#^ & that detail from the script hurts so bad

[graythursday]

selina’s confusion and irritation around bruce was so warranted tbh. the man goes around calling himself vengeance, a word with a very strong brutal connotation attached, but he doesn’t kill. and how is she supposed to know that? on top of the animalistic notion the word vengeance can carry, she’s grown up around killers and abusers her whole life. she goes to him when she needs help tracking down kenzie, and bruce responds like a complete asshole, pissing her off AND confusing her because again, man calls himself VENGEANCE. she literally begs him to help her, “will you help me? PLEASE.” and when she brings kenzie to him from her point of view he’s upset with her because he doesn’t believe what she’s saying about annika. “i’m telling you goddamnit she called me!” she professes as he demands she puts the gun down. after he hears the voicemail and kenzie confesses everything, he still refuses to help her. that is when she realizes where he stands. and she gives in; she’ll take care of it herself.

[milla-frenchy]

Close-up

8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions. 

a/n:  this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me

The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles. 

So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why. 

In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.

He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene. 

He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. 

It could only be you. 

That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”

“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”

“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch. 

Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you? 

At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did. 

Until today.

He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.

So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been  friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.

And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.

Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad. 

Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him. 

He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.

He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.

Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”

The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.

You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. 

But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. 

So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. 

It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up. 

If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.

All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question. 

The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between. 

His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.

Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.

Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.

He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.

You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.

He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.

Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you. 

He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.  

Until it was over. 

He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.

He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened. 

The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.

You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.

That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him. 

The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him  lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it. 

He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that. 

All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.

Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.

So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.

Ok, set up a meeting

Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy. 

He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.

He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him. 

And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”

To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”

That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations. 

As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep. 

He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.

You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.

“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended. 

“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.

“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.” 

Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.

“Joel, please, listen to me.” 

You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.

“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”

“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”

His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.

“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.

He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.

“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.

“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

“You?” 

A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.

Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.

“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”

“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”

“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off. 

“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”

He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”

You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.

“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.

“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”

“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”

He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed. 

Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.” 

Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left. 

In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.

You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.

You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.

Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.

He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”

“You knew it, you knew why.”

Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward? 

Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?

Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.

Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it. 

And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.

“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.

“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.

Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too. 

Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.

So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up. 

And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.

So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you. 

When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.

He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.

He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:

it’s Joel. Are you still in LA?  I have some questions about the script can we meet again?  I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!

He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.

The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen. 

Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered. 

Anything to keep his mind busy.

You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.

“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.

It was. 

You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.

You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.

Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.

He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair. 

He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.

But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile. 

His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.

And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature. 

A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long. 

Whether in a relationship or not.

And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.

“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.

“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.

“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”

“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”

He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”

“To do what?”

“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.

“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.

“A little,” he laughed.

He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before. 

“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask. 

“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?” 

But he couldn’t ask you that.

He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.

“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”

He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”

He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.

“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you. 

You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.

“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”

You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.

“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”

“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”

You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.

Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.

Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?

You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.

“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”

He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake. 

He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.

You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.

Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.

You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.

The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you. 

Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.

That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.

He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.

“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.

“I missed you too.”

You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.

“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”

He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.

You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.

“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”

The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch. 

It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.

He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.

He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.

He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.

It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again. 

Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.

You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”

You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together. 

“I, huh…” you stammered.

“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”

“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”

“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”

“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What?”

You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't…  Please, don’t say that.”

“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”

Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.

“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.

You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.

Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.

He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.

“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.

He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.

But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”

“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.

He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider. 

He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.

"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please." 

“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”

He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping  your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.

“Joel…” you whimpered.

“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”

“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.

“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.

He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.

“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head. 

“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.

He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in. 

“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.

“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.

Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him. 

You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.

“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.” 

For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.

Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.

“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his. 

“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.

You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.

“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”

“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”

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[vashtijoy]

Something I've noticed for a while is that Akechi doesn't appear to say that he was in foster care in the Japanese script.

Akechi おかげで僕は、色んな所を転々とさせられて、まあ、今じゃ気ままな一人暮らしだけどね。 okage de boku wa, ironna tokoro o tenten to saserarete, maa, ima ja kimamana hitori kurashi da kedo ne Thanks to him, I was passed from foster home to foster home. But, I do quite well by myself these days. After that, nobody would keep me for too long, so I got moved about a lot. But now I'm alone and free to live as I choose.

There are a few interesting points here:

おかげで okage de, "thanks to"

Akechi does not specify what or who he's crediting here; the translator has glossed in "thanks to him". IMO it's more likely to be "because of the death of my mother"—the thing he was just speaking of. Shido is responsible, but (at least according to Akechi's flow of speech) he is slightly indirectly responsible.

転々とさせられて tenten to saserarete

tenten to suru, in this context, means moving around often from place to place; living at a lot of different addresses. But note the passive-causative on suru here, saserareru. This is something that was done to Akechi, something others inflicted on him, something he experienced as a profound negative. This was bad. Looking at what he goes on to say later—"so someone would want me around!"—I've tried to capture this with "nobody would keep me".

Also note that tenten to suru, while not usually violent in this "moving about" context, is also a term for e.g. kicking a ball around, which again makes it an interesting choice of words.

気ままな一人暮らし kimamana hitori kurashi

This is a set phrase, essentially meaning "a free and carefree life alone"; it's used, often with a little irony, to describe the joys of living alone, or of being single. Note that Akechi does not mean this—he sounds (JP audio) miserable as fuck, and he's brought this up, rather ineffectively, to try and lighten the mood.

It comes across as "I was alone, and I'm still alone, but at least now I'm alone on my own terms and can do as I please"—which he knows is untrue, and we know is untrue, and Ren and Futaba can surely tell is untrue.

By the way, this quick use of a throwaway stereotype, as if it explains everything—ima ja kimamana hitori kurashi da kedo ne—is one of Akechi's verbal tricks; he becomes laconic in this way when he touches on things he doesn't want to discuss, things that are sensitive to him.

This is how he explains to the others in the engine room that he's illegitimate, for instance—tsumari kakushigo sa, "In short, I'm his secret child", kakushigo ("hidden child") here being a popular term, with no real English parallel, for the secret or unacknowledged child of someone famous or powerful.

You could maybe render his line here as a detached-sounding "but now I'm footloose and fancy-free", for the same effect.

色んな所 ironna tokoro

This is what has been translated "foster homes", but it just means "all sorts of different places":

Akechi 色んな��を転々とさせられた ironna tokoro o tenten to saserareta I was passed around from pillar to post.

So: he was passed from place to place, from pillar to post. Like a pebble rolling on a beach, or a ball being kicked around a field. Do we know what any of those places might have been? No; he doesn't tell us. There's IMO nothing here to suggest that he was in the care of the state—but equally, there's nothing that excludes it.

But Akechi returns to this in the anime, in Proof of Justice—and he is far more specific:

Akechi だから、母が死んだあとは、親戚の間を転々として行ったね。 dakara, haha ga shinda ato wa, shinseki no aida o tenten to shite itta ne After my mother died, I was passed around my relatives.

Anime Akechi gives us more detail, again with tenten to suru, but he removes a lot of the emphatic force—we gain the detail that he was with his relatives, but we lose that outraged passive-causative, that makes it clear this hurt him—what I've tried to capture with "nobody would keep me for long" up at the top. It's possible, of course, that the difference in tone is to do with the different tone in the two scenes—game Akechi is at a very low point, while anime Akechi seems reflective and chill.

But is this canon? Well, usually when the game and the anime contradict, I prefer the game for its lack of adaptation drift. But there are a couple of occasions when the anime seems to clarify things that were not clear in the game text—and IMO, this is one. Per the game, Akechi was passed from place to place; the anime clarifies that those "places" were with his relatives.

TBH, even the localisation's "foster home" doesn't necessarily imply state foster care; a relative who takes you in is a foster parent. Of course, if you want a backdoor here (which is in no way required, I'm not your mum), he never suggests how long he stayed with his relatives....

does anything in-game support this?

Well, there's one thing in the game that supports this reading, and it's actually on 8/28 itself. Immediately after Akechi says he was passed around after his mother's death, Futaba does this:

Remember, Futaba already does not like Akechi. She resents him for his pursuit of the Phantom Thieves, even before she suspects him of killing her mother. Yet when he mentions his sad past, she connects with him.

Why is that? It's because Futaba, too, was passed between her relatives—with the results we all know: they were abusive, exploitative and cruel, leading to her being rescued by Sojiro. The game draws an explicit connection here between Futaba and Akechi—suggesting that they have this backstory in common, of being passed between abusive relatives. It suggests we can glean a little more about Akechi's past by looking at what we learn about Futaba's.

And she was rescued; he was not. They both turned to crime to work off some of what they endured—but Futaba retained her moral centre, while Akechi fell off the edge. This is why she tells him what she does in the engine room: "You thought [being alone and not trusting anyone] was enough, right? That part I totally get."

but isn't he just lying his ass off here?

BTW, as to whether Akechi is just trying to ingratiate himself with Futaba (or with Ren) on 8/28—I don't think so; I think he tries, and then gives up after his performative cut-in. We just saw him trying to ingratiate himself with Sojiro—his failure there, at the start of the scene, is what upsets him and opens him up. So far, so good.

Is he trying to get in with Wakaba Isshiki's daughter, to continue his pursuit of her research on Sae's behalf?—the reason he was at Leblanc in the first place? No, because he never mentions it to Futaba, ever again.

What Akechi will do later is stand up for her, on 9/13, protesting Sae's threat to remove her from Sojiro's custody:

Sae: There have been frequent occurrences of mental shutdowns surrounding Okumura recently. Sae: If only there was a clear connection between him and the Phantom Thieves… Sae: Well, it would be problematic if there wasn't one. Akechi: So you're jumping the gun here. Akechi: You really told a man you would terminate his parental authority based purely on your speculation?

... and notice what he's doing here. Akechi clearly already knows about Sae's threats to Sojiro; she does not explain them in this scene. And Akechi has clearly not questioned her on it, as long as he thinks there's a reason for it. When it turns out there isn't one? He calls Sae out. Because Akechi knows what's it's like to be a child with nowhere to go.

Sure, it's not beneath him to throw Futaba to the wolves—or, ultimately, to try to kill her in the engine room. But he views it as distasteful, as unjustified, and as wrong. He knows gratuitous cruelty when he sees it—and it repels him. He knows the difference between right and wrong—he's just elected to ignore it.

And he expects far better than this from Sae.

revision history

click here for the latest version.

v1.2 (2023/11/21)—typos, plus extra context for the game and anime scenes.

v1.1 (2023/11/20)—reblog w/ additional commentary.

v1.0 (2023/11/20)—first posted.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Chapter 6 - Your Brother | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

Even though things were ‘good’ you couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about what you and Trent were doing. He was in and out of town so often for football it was hard to know what was happening. So, in the midst of flickering doubts, you had decided you would try to create some self-imposed distance to keep your heart safe. You’d gotten to a place where yes… you were sending nudes, videos of you in bed which in itself maybe wasn’t the smartest but it was happening, you were enjoying it in fact. But enjoyment couldn’t mask apprehension. Still, you were keeping everything just on the phone. Keeping everything hush, not even Layla knew how deep things were getting. And while this digital relationship was blossoming, you were keeping the public one that existed in front of everyone’s eyes at an arm's length. And it hurt to be living what felt like a double life.  You two clearly had no self control and that was evident in the text exchanges so keeping your distance felt smart.  With all of that in mind, you hadn’t expected to see Trent at your door this afternoon, let alone embracing you in a cuddle so warm it felt like he hadn’t seen you in ages when it’d been mere days. You stiffened at first, taken by surprise, but quickly melted into him. As much as you tried to pretend you shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this with him, you yearned for this very thing; the physical connection you were trying so hard to keep at bay. You tried to believe that space was the best thing to do to keep yourself safe but the second his arms wrapped around you… the world melted along with you. Memories of him flooding you. It was like he had your heart before you couldn’t even try to stop him from grabbing it. You were powerless and you loved being weak for him. 

“You’re back home.” Your voice was muffled against his skin in the embrace of the hug. He hummed, squeezing you that much tighter. Just as you began to pull back, his grin widened cheekily. 

“Can you wait here f’me? I got something for you.” Before you could respond, He smiled as he darted back out to his car, leaving you standing there, curiosity building, warmth flooding you. When he returned, he was holding a stunning bouquet, petals in shades of blush and deep red. 

“I don’t play footie in the park anymore so I thought you deserve more than a daisy.” He smiled earnestly with a glint in his eyes that almost looked scared. Trent was still grappling with how to show you just how much he cared. He was worried about Jack, sure, but keeping things hush didn’t feel so bad at the minute as long as he showed you he cared. He was looking for that sweet spot of past and present. And so began another attempt. You couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed as you took the flowers, turning them in your hands, admiring every detail. But Trent wasn’t done. “Pretty girl…” He cooed gently to grab you attention off the floral arrangement and back to him. He smirked holding two more bags. You raised your brow with a smile you couldn’t contain anymore. He handed you a sleek Dior shopping bag, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You know like… I was in just France for the game and… well, I saw this, and I just thought of you.” He stumbled through words with a smile. You turned and placed the flowers and the bag on a console in the foyer of the house unboxing it all. Inside was a mini red Dior lady dior, classic, chic, and unmistakably something you loved on sight. Yes, this was very much so a perk of present day Trent. 

“Trent, I—” You looked up at him, stunned, your heart racing. But before you could finish, he interrupted with a cheeky smirk.

“One more thing… because well, in my opinion it matches and…”  As you took the next bag he was pushing towards you and began to open the other, you smirked with a furrowed brow. It wasn't any more designer, instead something priceless. You pulled out a familiar red top you had just seen Trent wearing on the telly during his match days ago. You smiled seeing a Liverpool Alexander-Arnold jersey. One of his own. “If you ever want to wear one,” he said, his eyes softening. “I’d prefer it if it was mine. Because you know… you’re kind of mine.” The words hung between you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You ran your fingers over the bold name and number on the back, biting back a giddy smile. 

“This is… wow, are you sure, baby, It’s a pretty big statement.” you teased, glancing up at him. He stepped closer, his eyes serious, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I mean it.  You’re… You’re so important to me, Y/N.” That moment felt like a declaration all on its own, leaving you feeling lighter and less uncertain, ready to see where this might possibly go.  That maybe it wasn’t all just for behind closed doors. The gift in your hands felt weighty, more than just fabric or leather—it felt like a quiet promise. “I always liked when you were at the park watching me play growing up, and I really like it when you’re at Anfield now watching me.” His words stuck you deep. Maybe he wasn’t just making it all up about having a crush on your growing up in the park. The way Trent looked at you, the softness in his eyes and the little, lingering smile on his lips, spoke volumes. You glanced down at the jersey again, fingertips tracing over the double barreled last name. This wasn’t just a shirt; it was a claim, a gesture that felt almost absurdly personal. He watched you closely, gauging every shift in your expression. His usual confident demeanor softened, almost vulnerable, as he waited for you to say something more. But words felt clumsy in that moment, so you took a small step forward and wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. Trent hugged you back, his hands gentle against your back, pulling you in like he was afraid to let go.

“I… I don’t even know what to say,” you finally whispered into his shoulder, feeling both overwhelmed and elated. You pulled back, just enough to look up at him. “This is… it’s really thoughtful, T, baby.” He gave a little shrug, downplaying the significance. 

“Think about you a lot. I wish I could show you better. This is one way I guess.  And I just thought you’d look better in one mine, yeah?” His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed him. You could see the warmth, the intent behind this small collection of gifts. Grinning, you took the jersey holding it up between you. 

“So… I’m supposed to just wear this and be yours, huh?” You said with a smirk. His grin turned into a smirk. 

“That’s the idea,” he said, stepping in close, his hands finding your waist. “But only if you’re up for it.” You felt your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t break his gaze. His fingers began to play with the hem of the shirt you currently had on. You didn’t expect your heart to stutter the way it did seeing him today. You looked down, biting your lip, feeling almost shy under his gaze. 

“And you’re sure?” you murmured, looking back up at him. He reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, letting his fingers linger just a little longer against your skin. 

“I’ve known you too long not to be.” His voice was low, and there was a sincerity there that felt like a balm to every worry you’d been carrying. Without another word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, soft but intentional, letting yourself believe him. Trent’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, like he was anchoring himself to you. The kiss deepened, and you both sank into it, unhurried, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.  You finally pulled back from the kiss to really look at the jersey still in your hands. It wasn’t from a store it was very clearly one of his. He even had drawn a little heart, in only a way a boy would, but nevertheless cute, on the bottom of the white embossed  #66. The whole thing was incredibly sweet. 

“Guess I know what I’m wearing to the next match I go to. Someone just has to invite me.” You said with a teasing smile.

“You’re always invited but yeah, you better be wearing that,” he chuckled, his eyes shining. “I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna look perfect on you as well.” And with that, you felt some of your doubts fade, replaced by the excitement of whatever was waiting ahead and right now what was waiting was  thick sexual tension creeping in. As you held the soft fabric of the jersey, Trent's eyes sparkled with mischief. He stepped back into you once more, his muscular body radiating heat, planting a soft kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His warm breath fanning your sensitive skin as he gently nibbled, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. Swiftly a moment that was meant to be sentimental, suddenly began to steam up. 

"Do you want me to try it on for you, baby?" you suggested, your voice a little hoarse with desire. Trent hummed in response, his lips still brushing against your skin as his fingers idley returned to play with the hem of your shirt. With a swift motion, he lifted the shirt you were already wearing over your head entirely exposing your bare torso, no bra. Your breath caught at the sudden rush of cool air on your heated skin. Trent's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your full tits, your nipples already hardening in anticipation.

"You look so fucking gorgeous all the fucking time, baby" he growled, his voice thick with want. His hands glided over your shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then slid down to cup your tits. He thumbed your nipples, rolling and pinching gently, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

"I need you, T… now," you murmured before his lips found yours in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry, demanding, and filled with passion. Different than before. Trent's tongue danced with yours, exploring and claiming, while his hands roamed freely over your body, mapping every curve and valley. He kneaded your boobs, squeezing and lifting them, making you moan into his mouth. You clung to him, running your fingers over his curls, pulling him closer as if you could merge your bodies into one. His erection pressing against your lower belly, a hard ridge that promised pleasure and satisfaction you’d come to know well but couldn’t get enough of. His hands moved to slide around you down to your ass, over it and then under. Breaking the kiss, Trent lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you upstairs, making sure to grab both of your tops in his hand, sparing any damning evidence. His strong arms never faltering as you giggled breathlessly nibbling on his ear lobe whispering the naughtiest things in his ear despite feeling like an innocent princess in his hold. And then like a shot gun signaling a start, your bedroom door clicked shut behind you. 

Trent laid you down on your soft sheets, his eyes never leaving yours. In a blur of passion, you found yourself on your bed, both of your clothes completely vanished now, your legs wrapped around Trent's strong waist again. He hovered above you, his body a delicious weight pressing you into the mattress. You could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against you. His eyes, dark and intense, holding yours captive, and you knew in that moment it truly felt like you were his. The dominant glint in his eyes sent a thrill through your body, making you ache to surrender completely.

“Tell me what you want.” He cooed almost tauntingly.  Trent's voice was a low rumble, filled with desire and possession as he whispered above you leaning in to begin leaving kisses from behind your ear down your jaw. You didn’t answer you just nodded eagerly, giving him permission, your eyes pleading for him to take control. And he did. He pressed his lips to yours as his fingers trailed down your body, tracing your curves, before slipping between your thighs and  through your pussy’s wet folds.  “Such a messy girl. You're so always so fucking wet for me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. You were already soaked, your arousal glistening on your sensitive folds. Trent's touch was like a lightning bolt, igniting a fire within you. “Tell me what you want.” He demanded again and it started a fire in you, igniting something carnal. You whined and when he teased his fingers around your clit. 

"You, T, fuck… I want you," you whimpered as he stroked your clit, his touch feather-light but intensely pleasurable. His fingers dipped lower, finding your entrance and pushing inside, filling you with a delicious stretch. You gasped as you felt him slip two fingers all the way inside of you with a curl. He smirked watching your face scrunch up from the intrusion. You arched off your bed, seeking more, your hips moving in rhythm with his fingers. "Please, baby" you begged, your voice breathy and desperate. "I need you inside me. I want your cock, T." He grinned down at you, his eyes alight with possessiveness.  “I want you to be rough, T.” You whined desperate for him to just use you. 

"You want me to be rough with you? You like that don't you, baby?" He mocked in the hottest way. You reached out towards him, dragging your hand down his abs before wrapping your hand around his hard shaft. You pumped his cock with your spit mixed with his leaking precum,l. He pulled his fingers out of you swiftly. His one hand laced his fingers with yours pinning your hands above your head, the other tapping his cock against your clit, dragging it through your fold’s teasingly.  Neither of you had the patience for more foreplay. You needed him inside of you now and he was giving you just that.  His big brown eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. “You’re gonna be a good girl f’me, hmm?” His words send a thrill through you, a heady combination of desire and submission. You nod eagerly, your eyes locked on his.

"Yeah" you whispered. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hands moving to grip your hip firmly. You felt the broad head of his cock nudging at your entrance before he thrusted forward, filling you in one smooth stroke."Oh, God!" you cried out, your body welcoming him with a delicious tightness. Your hands broke out of his and grabbed to hold him. Your nails digging into his back muscles as he slid inside of you. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp. He rocked into you. Trent’s cock stretched you deliciously hitting the spot only he knew immediately. 

“Doing so good f’me, baby. Take my cock so well. You okay?” He asked gently as he flicked his eyes to yours. You nodded with a shy smile as he pulled back out just barely, leaving just the tip in. With a growl, he thrusted into you again, filling you so completely that you gasped once over. His cock, hard and throbbing, stretching you to the limit, and you loved every second of it. The sensation of being so full, so possessed, sent sparks of pleasure through your body. He set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with deep, powerful strokes. Your bodies creating a sensual rhythm, the squelching sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the room. Trent's jaw clenched, his eyes hooded as he watched his cock disappear into your slick heat.

"You feel so fucking good," you moaned, your breath coming in short gasps. "Feel so deep. Oh my god." You whined. You inhaled a sharp breath feeling a lightheadedness come over as you took him.  He kept his beautiful brown eyes fixed on you. The pupils in his dark eyes dilated as he felt his cock pulse inside you. Every movement was slow, deep, and intentional. His lips curled into a smug smile hearing you whine. You were completely his and he reveled in it. You dragged your ankle down his back muscles. He was so gentle yet harsh at the same time. Trent’s hand slid up your body and wrapped around your neck gently but assertively causing the knot in your core to tighten as you moaned more.   

"Whose pussy is this?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with need. 

"Yours, Trent," you whispered, your voice breathless. "Only yours." He quickened his pace, his hips snapping forward with each thrust, driving into you relentlessly. Your tits, full and heavy, bounced with each movement, the sensitive peaks grazing his chest, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. He let go of your neck and leaned back a little. Trent's hands moving to grip your thighs, holding your legs wide open, exposing you completely to his gaze and touch. 

"God, fuck. You're so fucking wet, baby," he growled, his eyes fixed on the junction where his cock disappeared into your body. "So good f’me." He praised you as you moaned, the explicit words and the sight of him pounding into your body pushing you closer to the edge. Your hands moved off him to clutch at the sheets, your knuckles turning white as you tried to anchor yourself against the force of his thrusts. The room continued to be filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your desperate moans, and Trent's dirty words. Trent could feel your pussy clenching tighter, he knew you were close. 

"Tell me, baby, whose cock are you gonna cum on right now?" Trent's voice was rough but smug, his face a mask of pure desire and self satisfaction.

"Yours, T," you panted, your voice thick with pleasure. “I want to cum on your cock." Your eyes rolling back as you felt the climax building. "I'll only ever cum on your cock, T." Your words seemed to unleash something primal within him. His eyes lit with possession. His hips pistoned faster, his cock pounding into your sensitive flesh. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, his cock feeling harder inside of you, and the knowledge that he was close to his own release sent you spiraling towards your climax. The words you’d just said had tumbled out. And to be honest, you kind of hoped your commitment was true. You only ever wanted his dick… it was that good. You wrapped your legs stayed around his waist, drawing him even deeper, your hands moving to clutch at his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks on his tanned skin. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading, possessing. His hips never stoping their relentless motion, driving you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

"That's right, you're my good girl. Only cum f’me. Only gonna ever wear my jersey too, yeah?" he grunted the question, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded as the coil in your stomach tightened. Orgasmic bliss barrelling towards you."Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you love my cock." His words were like a match to the kindling of your desire. His words pushed you over the precipice. Your body tensed every nerve ending singing as you soared into your climax. Trent's fingers dug into your hips, holding you firmly in place as he fucked you into your climax, his own release building. And then in a split second just when the outside world couldn’t have seemed further away you heard the tracks of the garage door begin to open.

 "T!" you cried out, your voice high and desperate. The distant rumble of Jack returning home made your heart stop but you couldn’t stop your body’s orgasmic convulsions though. Your climax exploded through your body, rippling waves of pleasure that caused your back to arch and your pussy to clamp down on Trent’s cock. You cried out, your voice a mix of pleasure and surprise and panic, as your release washed over you, the waves of pleasure so intense they left you trembling. Trent's name was a mantra on your lips you were trying to bite back as you rode the waves of ecstasy but it was all mixed with genuine fear. “T… T.. fuck!” You yelped,  your hands moving to press against his chest to push him off. He didn’t hear the garage, he was locked in. You knew he was about to cum. “Trent!” You yelped just as his body tensed above you. His eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a guttural grunt, his hips making one final, powerful thrust as he filled you with his release. “Jack! Trent!” You told him. Trent had never had a more conflicting climax in his life. Panic, euphoria, and disgust hearing his mates name while he finished all at once. Trent's eyes widened, and he froze, his cock still buried deep within you. His release leaking inside you. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a frantic rhythm that matched your own. The sensation of his hot cum inside you sent you over the edge again, a second orgasm washing over you, leaving you boneless and sated, Trent fighting back a groan as you tightened around him once more. Panting, your bodies glistening with sweat, you clung to each other, hearts racing but you needed to move. Now. The sudden realization that you were both naked and exposed snapped you back to the present. Anxiety flared in your chest as you scrambled to get Trent off you and find your clothes, your heart pounding. This was it. Jack was going to find out. 

"Shit," Trent cursed, quickly reaching for his boxers. "Your brother... we need to get downstairs." He instructed you. The urgency in his voice mirrored your own racing thoughts. You frantically searched for your clothes, scattered across the room. In a mad dash, you pulled on your panties and scrambled to find everything, while Trent hastily pulled on his trousers. The heat of the moment had turned into a frantic race against time. The sound of Jack’s arrival sent you both into a scramble, grabbing at clothes, fumbling with buttons, zipper, shirts pulled over heads, doing whatever you could to look convincingly casual. 

“Fuck, fuck!” you yelled in a whisper,  heart pounding as you clutched the sides of your shirt, tugging it over your head, trying to compose yourself. You shot Trent a panicked look.  Tears forming on your lash line. 

“Baby… Baby… we’ll be okay. You’re okay. C’mon.” He kissed your forehead before helping adjust your top. The slam of the door into the house had sent you and Trent into an even more panicked frenzy as you scrambled to not look like you just fucked. 

“My car,” Trent hissed almost to himself, eyes wide, realizing that leaving his car in the driveway was like leaving a neon sign that he was there.

“He’s going to see it…” You glanced at him, panicked. There was no hiding now. With your pulse racing, you tried to look as normal as possible, grabbing the closest thing you could find to play off a casual visit—a charger tangled near your bed. The two of you locked eyes, a silent agreement that this was your cover story.  You nodded back before you ran down the stairs just as Jack came through the other side of the house. Thank god the staircase up to your room was at the opposite end. You could hear Jack’s footsteps making his way towards you two as you made it downstairs. When he saw you and Trent his eyebrows raised, but he was relaxed enough. 

“Aye, mate, what’s up?” he asked, looking from Trent to you and back again. Jack looked at Trent with a faintly furrowed brow. Trent plastered on a relaxed smile, putting on his most casual tone.

“Yeah, good bro. Sorry, ah…left my phone charger here last time,” he replied smoothly, nodding toward the one you were now holding out like a lifeline. You forced a smile, trying to seem casual. Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a second, his expression skeptical. 

“So…” Jack’s tone held a playful curiosity. “You knew I wasn’t home?” Trent shrugged. 

“Yeah, bro, only a charger so I didn’t want to nag you about it,” he said, as you casually waving the charger like it was some grand prize he’d finally retrieve. “Y/N was just letting me grab it real quick.” You handed Trent the charger, feeling Jack’s gaze on both of you. Trent took it with a casual ‘Thanks,’ stuffing it into his pocket as if it had been his all along. You were mildly annoyed you were losing a charger but that was the least of your worries “Just thought I’d pop in, grab it, and head out.” Jack stared for a moment longer, lips curving into a smirk as he finally dropped his gaze. 

“Right… sound.” he chuckled.  Trent laughed, playing along, and you couldn’t help but join in, trying to mask your own nerves. Jack looked between you both, there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite read but it was more confusion at the energy in the room than a hint of suspicion. But he just laughed, shrugging it off as Trent left. Trent still managed to give you a tiny, playful wink before slipping out, leaving your mind reeling.

“He’s so weird.” Jack teased you, still watching Trent get in his car. “Man makes millions and he’s pressed about a charger.” You let out a small, nervous laugh, hoping to play it cool. You felt Jack’s arm wrap around your shoulder in a lighthearted squeeze, and he shot you a teasing grin.

“Nah, he’s just… Trent… mindful, maybe?” you managed, trying to fill the silence and maybe convince both Jack and yourself. Jack smirked, shaking his head. Your heart was still racing but at least Trent had remained calm. 

“Yeah, well, you were probably just gassed you got his attention alone for five minutes.” He laughed, punching at your arm as he passed you. You forced yourself to chuckle, hoping the nervous energy vibrating through you wasn’t as obvious as it felt. Jack’s teasing had hit closer to home than he knew, and as you watched Trent’s car pull away from the driveway, you felt a mix of thrill and relief. The cover story might’ve worked, but the spark between you two? That was only getting harder to hide.

“Oh, please,” you replied, rolling your eyes, trying to sound nonchalant as you looked down, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You laughed, a little too loudly, hoping it came off as amused and not as a frantic release of tension.  Jack gave a little shrug, seemingly satisfied. 

“Just saying, you love Trenty.” He laughed teasingly but you didn’t. Not this time. “Y/N… I’m kidding. I know he’s your mate too. Relax. He came for a charger, innit. I’m joking. Sorry.” He looked at you apologetically, mildly confused why a tease about you have a crush on Trent hit so differently than before. He always poked fun but your vibe felt weird. He opted to just  let it roll off his back, moving on and turned, remaining oblivious as he headed to the kitchen. Meanwhile you were left with a stomach full of butterflies, lined with guilt  and a heart still pounding from the close call. Watching Trent drive away, you felt an undeniable thrill mixed with something deeper, something that had you feeling torn between excitement and culpability. The cover story had worked for now, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping this secret would only get harder with time.

Sneaking around with Trent had quickly transformed into something more, something you felt deep in your bones. The thrill was undeniable, yet the way you kept finding yourself drawn back to him made it feel like it wasn't just about the thrill anymore. After Jack almost catching you, it just felt like you both actually thought what you were doing might’ve been worth it. Tonight felt like a step closer to something real, though the secrecy only intensified it. You'd told Jack you'd be staying over at Layla's, a lie that sat heavy, but the promise of a night with Trent made it worth it. When you arrived at his place, Trent's smile greeted you at the door, warm and familiar, and immediately, you felt all that tension melt away. He led you out to the back garden, where he had set up a cozy space just for the two of you. Blankets were draped over the outdoor couch on the patio, and the fire pit cast a gentle, golden glow. Jazz murmured softly from a speaker, blending perfectly with the low hum of the night, creating a sense of comfort that felt more intimate than you'd expected. The whole setup seemed to say: I wanted this to feel special. You nestled into the couch beside him, sharing the same blanket as the fire flickered, warming your faces. Trent leaned back, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, the other hand resting on your knee, and you felt yourself relaxing against him as if this was exactly where you belonged.

Although, it wasn't long though before he suggested a game of cards, his competitive spirit sparking in his eyes. You moved to sit cross-legged on the couch, turning to face him as you dealt the cards. Trent sat back, legs spread, confidence written across his face. But as the game went on and the tide turned in your favor, his expression shifted. He huffed when you won a hand, mumbling something about beginner's luck, but you could tell he was getting flustered. When you won again, his pout turned into a grin full of mischief.

"Nah, not having this. C'mon, there's no way you're this lucky," he teased, snatching the cards from your hand before pulling you into his lap, his hands snaking around your waist.

"Maybe I'm just better at it than you," you quipped, knowing it would get under his skin. He narrowed his eyes, pretending to look insulted but deep down you knew he hated hearing it, joke or not.

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" he murmured before leaning in, his teeth grazing your neck in a playful nibble, a cross between a kiss and bite as his hands gripped you tighter. You squirmed, laughing, trying to wriggle free, but he was stronger than you and wouldn't let you go.

"Just admit I won," you teased, breathless from laughing, glancing up at him with a triumphant smile.

"Not a chance," he whispered, voice low as his face hovered inches from yours, his eyes full of that look that made your pulse race. "The game's postponed. We'll settle it later." He said deciding he just wanted to be with you for the moment, no games. He let his hold on you loosen, and you rolled your eyes with a grin. 

"Whatever you want, baby." You murmured, your voice warm and teasing. He stilled, his gaze softening as he took you in, as if hearing you calling him ‘baby’ for the first time. Colloquially. The look in his eyes made your stomach flip, a moment of quiet that felt far more intimate than any kiss or touch. With a hum of satisfaction, he pulled you in closer, one hand tracing down your back.

"I like the sound of that." His fingers gently pressed into your skin, grounding you in that moment, and his other hand reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You stayed wrapped up together, letting the night carry you in the warmth of each other's presence. Hours passed without notice, the jazz lulling softly in the background as you nestled closer, feeling his hand rest securely around you. His touch was soft, comforting, as if to say he wasn't in any rush to let go. The stars were bright overhead, and the crackling flames cast shadows over his face. Trent looked at you with a rare openness, a softness that made your chest ache in the best way. He pressed a kiss to your hair, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on you. You rested your head against his shoulder, your legs curled over his lap, feeling the strength of his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. Every so often, he'd lean down, brushing his lips against your temple or whispering something sweet that made your heart stutter. It felt like you were existing in your own little world, a pocket of warmth and comfort that was just for the two of you. The night stretched on, but neither of you felt any rush to move or break the spell. This wasn't just a thrill, or a secret-you could feel the weight of something genuine growing between you, something you were both beginning to understand couldn't be hidden forever.

Settling into Trent’s bed that night felt surreal—soft sheets, plush pillows, and the faint scent of him in the air made it feel luxurious, almost like a dream. Yet, there was that small tug of something missing, a sense of feeling a bit out of place amidst the perfection. You liked your routine, your things, that’s all. This was well,  it was his bed, his room, his world. You didn’t quite realize how it showed until Trent, lying beside you with a gentle smile, noticed it.

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable. What’s up?” he asked, his gaze soft but curious. You shook your head with a half-hearted laugh, trying to dismiss it. 

“I’m not uncomfortable… I just…” you trailed off, unable to find the words. But he shook his head, unconvinced. 

“Nah, baby, c’mon,” he coaxed, “alright. Tell me what you usually do before bed.” He rolled over and looked at you with a smile. At that, you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Okay, so,” you started, tucking your hair behind your ear as you settled into explaining shuffling in the sheets.. “First thing’s first: I have to take off all my makeup. But that means using an oil cleanser first because it breaks everything down— mascara, everything. Then I use a second cleanser to really clean my skin. It’s called double cleansing.” You giggled as Trent nodded with a raised eyebrow, trying not to smile. 

“Double cleansing?” he echoed. “More than once seems like….” You widened your eyes silently asking to finish and continued on. 

“Trust me, it makes a difference because some of us don’t just wake up moisturize and go.” You teased and he rolled his eyes swiping his thumb over his cheekbone as if to show off his perfect skin. “But then I have to pat my face dry with specific towels or like disposable ones, you know? Like I can’t just be rubbing whatever to dry.” He leaned back, clearly amused but listening intently. You were pretty sure he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. 

“Okay, what’s next?” he asked, a playful grin on his face.

“Then it’s skincare time,” you declared. “I use a toner first.” Trent nodded but you knew he probably didn’t know what that meant. “After that, I have a few serums. Then… ” You cooed but Trent interjected. 

“A few!?” Trent’s eyes widened slightly. It was becoming evidently more and more clear he did not have a sister. A part of you laughed that you never realized how deep that fact ran and then a part of you felt a bit relieved this was the first time he seemed to be hearing this. The idea that any girl that had come before you had yet to explain this to him. 

“Yeah then we move to like eye creams, moisturizers next,” you explained and continued to rattle on with more. He looked impressed and bewildered at the same time. 

“That’s… a lot,” he said, but there was a note of affection in his voice that made you smile.

“And we’re not even done!” you pointed out. “After the skincare, I do my hair care. Apply some products for hydration. Oh and silk pillowcases are a must for both skin and hair. They’re gentler and prevent breakage.” Trent’s eyes sparkled with humor, but he nodded as if taking mental notes. 

“Alright, so we’ve got skin and hair. Anything else?” He smirked almost assuming you were done. 

“Obviously,” you said, feigning indignation. “Then I have to set up my room. I spray a lavender sleep mist onto my bed to help me relax, and I take my nighttime supplements—magnesium, a sleep aid if I need it, maybe some collagen.” You explained.

“Supplements too?” he repeated, clearly finding all of this fascinating. He had routines but it was more for optimizing performance and in a way you were doing just the same.

“Yep. And then I need like wattterrrs,” you explained dragging out the word, feeling more animated as you talked. “And sometimes, if I’m feeling really stressed, I’ll do a short guided meditation before bed. Just five to ten minutes to clear my mind.” Trent was leaning forward now, his chin resting in his hands grinning ear to ear. Trent started laughing, eyes wide with disbelief. 

“That’s like 15 steps, baby!” he exclaimed, shaking his head as if you’d told him the most extravagant bedtime routine on earth and maybe you had in his mind. You laughed along, shrugging. 

“Hey, you asked! Besides, don’t pretend you’re not just as high maintenance with all your Byredo lotions over there.” You smirked, nodding toward the sleek row of bottles lined on the counter in the ensuite. He rolled his eyes, giving a mock scoff. 

“Alright, alright… but that’s… that’s quite the process,” he said, his voice laced with teasing affection. “You really do all that every night?” You crossed your arms, pretending to be offended. 

“I mean I try to every single night! It’s called self-care, T. There’s more out there than just what the club tells you to do. You should try my routine sometime.”  You giggled teasing him. You knew he took really good care of himself but when it came to beauty he was more relaxed. He laughed, the sound filling the room.

“I don’t think I could handle all of that.” He smirked.  You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the compliment. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Even if he didn’t fully understand each step, he was there, listening and appreciating the lengths you went to for your own well-being. And that made you feel seen in a way that was hard to explain. Still smiling, he grabbed his phone, opening his notes app. “Okay, baby… give me the names and brands. Everything you need for sleeping here.” Your heart fluttered at the gesture, so thoughtful and unexpected. You began listing each product, and he typed them with an almost serious focus, nodding as if he were taking notes on a game plan; Slip pillow cases, Tata Harper cleansers, Maison Francis mists, a 14th Night Hair Elixir. 

“You don’t actually have to do all this,” you murmured, feeling almost shy. But his hand found yours, and he squeezed it gently.

“I want you to feel comfortable here,” he said softly, looking at you with that easy, open sincerity. “Besides, if it’s gonna make you sleep better, then it’s worth it. Keeps you in my bed.” He cheekily cooed. The thoughtfulness left you feeling a mix of warmth and gratitude, a sense of belonging that surprised you. And as much as you adored the idea of your favorite products sitting in his bathroom, what you loved even more was this—him, making space for you in his world, in his home. It also felt nice to know it’d be like a warning should any other girl be over. This was your marking your territory.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shifting closer to him, a smile playing on your lips. “Honestly, though… all I really need to feel at home is you.” He smiled, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you. 

“You’ve always felt like home to me.” He whispered back to you. Both of your admissions honest. The room was calm, the dim light casting soft shadows, and Trent’s fingers lazily traced patterns along your arm as you both settled into the cozy rhythm of conversation. The hum of street lights outside mixed with the soft rustling of sheets, making the entire moment feel even more intimate. Even after Trent finished noting down your list, he looked over with a smirk, still visibly amused by the whole process.  “So, am I missing anything? Or do we need to add a couple more things for this routine?”

“Oh, don’t even start,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge. “You wouldn’t understand—it’s just habitual; it’s so I can look pretty.” You batted your eyes at him. He laughed, tipping his head back, the sound warm and rich. 

“Well… you always look beautiful. Don’t think you need all this but, consider me converted if it makes you happy,” he said, miming a solemn vow. “But seriously, I’ll get it, alright? It’s not just about making you feel at home—it’s about you being at home here, whenever you want.” The sincerity in his words made your cheeks warm. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like for this to be your regular night: no need to pack an overnight bag, no sneaking in and out, just… this, every night. You snuggled deeper into his embrace, the weight of his arm draped protectively around you making everything feel somehow complete. He noticed the pensive look on your face and tilted his head, studying you. “What’re you thinking about?”

“It’s just… weird, you know? I didn’t expect it to feel this comfortable here.” You hesitated, then smiled softly. “I thought it would feel… wrong.” He ran his hand gently up and down your back, pulling you even closer. It was wrong. It was wrong what you were doing to Jack, but this? This felt very right. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But I also knew it’d be good. You and I have always been good. I want it to feel easy. Want you to feel like you don’t have to hide anything when we’re here or feel out of place here.” His voice was low, soothing, and he spoke as if he were letting you in on some quiet, long-held secret. He reached over, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering as he looked into your eyes with that calm, unwavering gaze of his. “I know we’re figuring things out, and it might be complicated but it doesn’t have to be here. We’re good here,” he said softly, his hand resting gently on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, heart beating a little faster. 

“You really mean that?” you whispered, almost afraid of his answer.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice steady. “I think we’re pretty damn good together.” He smirked. For a moment, the silence between you was filled with unspoken words, a warmth passing between you that felt equal parts thrilling and comforting. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and smiled, nestling closer to him.

“Okay,” you murmured, settling fully into the pillow beside him, letting his steady breathing and the soft glow of his gaze ground you. The weight of his arm around you felt like an anchor, keeping you steady even as your mind whirled with thoughts of what this meant, of what you meant to him. He pulled you even closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“So… really, pretty girl, any final steps in this ritual of yours? Any last ones?” he teased, breaking the quiet moment with a playful glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, laughing. 

“Alright, alright, since you’re so curious… And I’m generous, I guess I could share the one I never even leave home without.” You reached over, awkwardly leaning to grab your lip balm you’d already moved to the nightstand earlier to have on hand. It was a lip balm you brought with you everywhere, so tonight was no different. It was a rich Hermes lip balm. Nothing made your lips feel more well-hydrated, supple or better than this. You applied a layer to your own lips before leaning in, catching him with a soft kiss that tasted faintly of beeswax.

“There, now you’re officially a part of my routine,” you said, grinning. He shook his head, still chuckling, his fingers tracing along your jaw as he pulled you in for another kiss. 

“If this is how the routine ends, I’m in.” And in that moment, with the warmth of his arms around you, the soft glow of the lights outside, and the quiet thrill of realizing just how natural this all felt, you let yourself settle fully into the moment. Trent leaned over you and grabbed the sleek tube again. “You think the lads would take the mick if I rolled around using Hermes lip balm? Because this actually feels so good.” He asked you earnestly. You smirked knowing the answer would likely be yes but you just hummed. 

“Does it? Or was it my kiss?” You teased. “Nah, you could use it though. If you’d want you can take this one. I’ll get another one.” You cooed, pressing your lips to his again. Trent nodded agreeing. And he did. You let him take it the next day. But that night you fell to sleep happy, lips moisturized, and all the worries and doubts fading into the background, leaving just you and him, here together, finding home in each other.

As you bounded down the stairs, practically buzzing with excitement, you were already mentally at Trent’s, imagining the quiet moments you’d get to have again, just the two of you for another night. You’d been doing this a lot. Hiding it all from everyone but reveling in the time tucked together. Your heart raced as you went through the plan in your head—another night wrapped up in his arms, laughing, teasing, letting everything else fall away. But Jack’s voice cut through your daydreams, grounding you in an instant.

“Hey, you headed out? Who’s the lucky lad now?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes studying you closely. Your heart skipped, a blend of panic and guilt washing over you. You were sure he’d started to suspect something, especially with all the time you’d been spending away. Swallowing hard, you tried for a casual response. You didn’t think he’d even be considering Trent, but it was clear you were spending a lot of time ‘out’ with someone. No matter, lying to Jack… Jack, your big brother, your best friend; though you’d never tell Layla that, it all felt so wrong. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to jinx it, you know? Not yet,” you said with a soft smile, hoping he’d leave it at that. But Jack wasn’t one to let things slide easily. He just hummed, giving you a long, knowing look. Then, with a gentleness that caught you off guard, he spoke again. 

“Hey…” he started, and you could hear the tenderness in his voice. “I’ve never seen you like this before.” He sympathetically smiled. 

“What do you mean?” You looked up at him, surprised

“I mean, there’s a light in you that I haven’t seen in a while. It’s good to see it again.” His eyes softened, a mix of pride and love filling his gaze. “I don’t know what this lad’s doing, but whatever it is, it’s bringing out the best in you. Look happier. Healthier.” A rush of emotion swelled in your chest, catching you off guard. The tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them, and you looked away, trying to compose yourself. Jack noticed, stepping forward and wrapping you in one of those big, protective hugs he was so good at. You felt the familiar strength of his arms around you, his hand gently rubbing your back as he held you close. “I just want you happy,” he murmured into your hair, and the raw honesty in his voice almost broke you. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I told Mum and Dad I’d look out for you, you know?” His voice was low, laced with the memories and promises you both had carried for years. You felt horrible. You were lying. Why were you lying? “I know I can be a pain sometimes, but… I don’t want you being with anyone that treats you like…” Jack tried to say it but he couldn’t. Jack was protective, loving but as communicative and close as you two were he just couldn’t stomach the idea of men treating you poorly so he couldn’t get the words out. “You deserve to be loved, to feel safe, that’s all.” Jack was the only place you felt safe since your mum passed. Your dad closed off and Jack stepped up. You shut your eyes, feeling the warmth of his embrace seep into you. There were times when a hug from Jack felt like it held everything you missed, everything you longed for—comfort, security, family. It was a rare, grounding feeling, and one that made you ache with a strange blend of gratitude and sadness. Pulling back just enough to look at you, Jack brushed his hand over your cheek, a soft smile on his lips. “Maybe we go to Sefton Park sometime soon?” he suggested. “Just us, like old times. Feels like we’re missing each other lately. Never see you.” He smiled softly and it made your heart ache. The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you managed a nod, blinking back the tears that had filled your eyes. You felt his arm tighten around you for a second, and he chuckled softly. “And… maybe one day you can introduce me to this fella. He seems alright, if he’s making you this happy.” His words hit harder than you expected, the guilt flaring up in your chest as you forced a smile. 

“Yeah… maybe.” You sheepishly told him feeling nauseous at the idea that Jack knew this ‘fella’ better than he probably ever wanted to.  Jack gave you a gentle squeeze, reaching to teasingly pull on the ends of your hair like he used to when you were kids. 

“Alright, go on then. Don’t keep him waiting. Don’t fuck it up now.” He winked, letting you go, but the warmth in his eyes stayed with you. As you walked to the door, your heart hurt, the weight of your secret feeling heavier with each step. The excitement of seeing Trent was still there, humming in the back of your mind, but Jack’s words lingered. You felt torn, a part of you wanting to spill everything to your brother, to let him see the whole truth. But as you got outside, you forced yourself to push it all away. For now, you just wanted to hold onto the happiness Jack had seen in you. You wanted to be with Trent, to laugh, to feel that lightness and warmth without the shadow of guilt hanging over you. And even if it was only for a night, you let yourself believe that was enough.

When morning rolled in, you were tucked into the sheets, the soft weight of the comforter keeping you warm as you dozed off, half-conscious of Trent beside you. The light filtered in through the blinds, illuminating the room in a golden haze, and you felt a deep contentment, drifting in that hazy, relaxed state between sleep and wakefulness. But then you felt the bed shift as Trent sat up more. You looked around Trent’s room, feeling oddly out of place though, despite how many times you had now woken up tangled in his sheets, wrapped up in the ease and warmth he offered. Today, though, it felt different. Your lies seeping in the warmth.  The room, with its familiar scent of him, his things strewn about casually, almost felt like a stage where you were playing a part you couldn’t reveal. It was strange, bittersweet, this cozy little world of yours that felt so real here but that would eventually dissolve the moment you stepped back into your life with Jack.

“Hi, baby,” you murmured, blinking up at him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face trying to be present and not get lost in your thoughts. You scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nestling into him. He gave a soft chuckle, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” He leaned down, kissing the top of your head. “Hey, I need you to stay in bed for me for a bit, yeah?” he said, his tone gentle but somehow cautious. You raised an eyebrow, pulling back to look at him more closely, half-expecting it to be some cheeky invitation. 

“Stay in bed?” you teased, smiling as you placed a playful kiss on his chest. But then he spoke again, and you caught the slight edge in his voice.

“Yeah, erm… Jack’s popping over,” he said, watching you carefully. It was like a cold wave washed over you, jolting you fully awake. You immediately pushed yourself up, heart racing. 

“Wait—what?” You scrambled, trying to pull yourself together, suddenly very aware that you were in Trent’s bed, in his house, wearing only his shirt. Trent had forgotten Jack was swinging by today until he got the text moments ago reminding him. He had promised he’d donate a pair of signed boots or something for Jack’s company to auction off for charity and today… he was coming to pick them up. 

“I forgot. Honest. It’ll be alright though.” He tried to tell you. This could not keep happening. You couldn’t tell which situation was worse. Jack finding out the other day - Trent was fucking you at your house, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to be there… Or Jack finding out now - You weren’t having sex as he came over but there was zero reason for you to be at Trent’s this early. There would be no excuse. You couldn’t keep lying to Jack this was eating you up. One mildly redeeming thought popped into your head – thankfully, your car was in Trent’s garage out of sight. It was tucked away though because Trent told you, you needed to take better care of it and can’t just leave it out all the time but still your anxiety was spiking.  

“T, then I have to leave!” you hissed, frantically looking around for how you could possibly grab all your things in time. You could already feel the guilt bubbling up inside, imagining Jack’s reaction if he walked in and found you here. But Trent just reached out, gently tugging you back, his arms wrapping around you, grounding you.

“Hey, hey. Relax, yeah? Just stay here. He’s not coming up into my bed,” he murmured, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be five minutes. He’s just coming by to pick something up. Quick, in and out. We’ll be okay.”  You looked up at him, worried, still tense. 

“Trent…” you began, but he only gave you a soft, reassuring smile, his eyes full of that easy confidence he always seemed to carry.

“Please. Just stay here. It’ll be okay,” he murmured, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that you could never say no to. You sighed, settling back into his embrace, heart still hammering as you heard Jack’s car pull up outside. To be fair, it made more sense for you to hide but it felt even more shameful to do. Part of you wanted to pull the covers over your head, to hide and pretend this wasn’t happening. Instead, you sat tensely in bed, listening as Trent slipped downstairs, his voice echoing faintly as he greeted Jack. You could hear their friendly banter, and it twisted your stomach with guilt. You knew it was wrong to keep this from Jack, but the thought of losing these moments with Trent was just as hard. 

You sat there, still, hands nervously fidgeting as you heard their voices drifting up from downstairs. Jack’s laughter mixed with Trent’s lighter chuckle, and it churned something inside you—a pang of guilt mixed with a longing for this to be simpler, to be something you could share without worry. But for now, the thrill of sneaking around was overshadowed by the weight of keeping this secret from Jack, from the one person who’d seen you through everything, helped you through everything. But still, hearing Jack’s voice below reminded you of the stakes, of how much you valued him, his trust, and how deeply you felt the need to protect this secret with Trent—even if it meant bending the truth. You picked at the hem of Trent’s shirt, which felt soft and familiar against your skin. There was something comforting in wearing a part of him, yet it also made everything feel painfully real. This wasn’t just some fling. You knew it every time you looked into Trent’s eyes, every time he pulled you into his arms like he didn’t want to let go. And then you heard the front door close,  there was silence for a little while until footsteps came up the stairs breaking it. You held your breath, half-wishing you could vanish into the walls. When Trent finally walked back in, you met his gaze, searching his face for some reassurance that you weren’t just imagining this, that he understood the complicated feelings swirling inside you. When Trent came back into the room, you’d moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his shirt still draped over you, your hands fidgeting nervously, his face softening as he noticed the tension in your posture. He gave you a soft smile, walking over and tilting your chin up so you’d meet his eyes.

“Hey. All good, yeah?” he murmured, his voice gentle. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, and you let yourself breathe again, slowly, finding comfort in his touch. You nodded, exhaling as you managed a small smile, letting yourself relax into him. 

“I just… I hate lying to him, Trent. It feels so messed up.” You let out a shaky breath, relief mingling with guilt. Trent knelt down in front of you, his hands finding yours. 

“I know, and I get it,” he said softly, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your skin. “But it’s just us right now. And whatever this is,” he squeezed your hands, “I want it to be ours before it’s anyone else’s. Jack will understand that.” His words settled over you like a warm blanket, grounding you in the certainty you felt with him. The guilt didn’t completely vanish, but his reassurance made it bearable, made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could navigate this without losing what mattered. “You okay?” he asked, his gaze unwavering, full of that soft patience he always seemed to have for you. He came and sat on the bed with you. Keeping a cautious distance not wanting to overwhelm you but a gentle open hand close ready to hold yours if you wanted it.  You sat across from Trent, fingers nervously fidgeting in your lap, your gaze low as you struggled to put words to the feeling that had been building up inside.

 “I just… I feel so guilty, lying to Jack all the time. T, it’s fucked,” you whispered repeating it once over, barely able to meet Trent’s eyes. Trent’s expression softened, and he took your hands in his, his touch grounding. 

“I know,” he murmured, squeezing your hands gently. “I feel it too. But it’s like… I can’t let this go. I can’t let you go. It’s… “ He paused momentarily, grappling with this almost as much as you. “It’s hard to feel like we can have both.” He cooed. You looked up at him, eyes searching his for something, maybe an answer, but all you found was a mirrored sense of conflict. 

“I want this,” you admitted, your voice a little choked. “I want you. But I don’t know how to make it work. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, terrified of falling in either direction.” You sniffled, trying to keep your emotions in check. He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze intense, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he lifted one of your hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to hide us either, but I also don’t want to put you in the middle.” The two of you sat there, wrapped in a silence that felt heavy, a quiet admission of the fears you shared but couldn’t quite voice. You could feel the ache in your chest intensify, a lump rising in your throat as the weight of it pressed on you. You blinked, feeling a tear slip free despite your attempts to keep it together. Trent’s gaze softened immediately. “Hey, baby” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush the tear from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. “Talk to me. I know this is a lot.” You tried to smile, to reassure him, but it faltered, and instead, more tears followed, spilling over as you let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling raw, exposed. “It’s just… Jack’s all I have. And I’m terrified that by being with you, by hiding this from him, I’m going to somehow lose both of you.” Your voice broke, and you quickly wiped at your cheeks, embarrassed by your own vulnerability. Trent’s expression shifted, a deep sympathy filling his eyes as he moved closer, pulling you into his arms. He wrapped you up tightly, holding you like he could somehow protect you from all the things that felt like they were slipping away.

“You could never lose me,” he whispered, his voice steady, almost as if he was willing it to be true, willing it to ease the fear in your heart. You leaned into him, feeling his arms around you, his steady presence a balm to the ache that had been building. But the silence that followed his words weighed heavily, filled with all the things neither of you could find a way to say. You let out a shaky breath, burying your face in his shoulder, feeling both comforted and conflicted in his embrace. After a moment, Trent pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re all I think about,” he said softly, a tenderness in his gaze that made your heart ache in a different way. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose, and I don’t want you to feel alone in this.” You nodded, but the weight of the situation lingered. A part of you wanted so badly to believe that his reassurance was enough, that you wouldn’t have to choose, that you could keep this connection with Trent without losing your relationship with Jack. But doubt gnawed at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were balancing on a thin line, one misstep away from losing it all. As if sensing your inner turmoil, Trent tilted your chin up, his gaze steady as he looked at you. “You’ll never lose me, no matter what happens” he repeated softly, his words a gentle promise. But something about the quiet that followed felt almost uncertain, as if he, too, knew how fragile everything was. Neither of you knew what would come next, and as he held you, the silence stretched, filled with both comfort and unspoken fears.In that moment, you held on tighter, hoping it would be enough to keep things from unraveling.

“Okay.” You nodded, managing a small smile as you squeezed his hands back. He smiled, his eyes brightening as he pulled you to your feet and into his arms. 

“Always, always, always” he murmured against your hair, between kisses, holding you close as you melted into him. You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in his arms, finding strength in his steady heartbeat, letting yourself believe that somehow, everything would work out. While your brain was spiraling, Trent’s heart hurt just the same. He felt like a scumbag for lying to Jack, for being with you. But he also felt like for the first time he was properly falling for you, getting to know you in a way he’d always longed for.  He couldn’t just throw it all away now, now that  he had a taste. He was putting up a good front though holding you, telling you it was fine. It was hard, but fine, but he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t saying that to himself even more. He wasn’t sure he could stomach a fall out with you or Jack. 

One afternoon after things stayed as they were, Trent casually reached into his pocket, pulling out the sleek little tube of lip balm, twisting it open with the practiced ease of someone who’d clearly used it more than a few times. He applied a quick swipe to his lips, completely unaware of the attention it was drawing. Noah noticed first, his brows raising in surprise before he nudged Jack, nodding subtly toward Trent. Jack caught sight of the lip balm and immediately burst into laughter. 

“Bro…” he said, still chuckling, “pretty sure my sister uses that shit.”

“Yeah? What about it?” Trent glanced over, unbothered. Noah shook his head, grinning. 

“Mate, good thing you’ve got that contract lined up. What’re you doing spending pounds on… what is that? Lipstick? ‘Cause it isn’t Nivia innit?” he teased, exaggerating. Trent rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“First off, it’s a balm. Second, it’s moisturizing, and it’s not shiny or anything, so you lot can calm down.” Noah and Jack exchanged a look, both stifling laughs. 

“Alright, alright, Pretty Boy,” Jack teased, holding up his hands in surrender. 

“Just saying, Y/N buying Hermes chapstick is one thing… You? That’s mad.” Noah laughed. Unphased, Trent shrugged, narrowing his gaze on him.

“You ever see Y/N’s lips looking dry?” He held up the balm, grinning. Noah shook his head.  

“Yeah, but I’m not exactly looking, am I?” Noah chuckled, clearly having fun with it. Trent just shrugged again, refusing to give them the satisfaction of riling him up. 

“Just saying,” he replied smoothly. “You can keep laughing, but I’m the one not walking around with dry lips. Yours could use a little help, mate,” he joked, nodding toward Noah, who chuckled. Jack shook his head, still laughing. 

“Alright, fair play,” Noah shot back, grinning. “But careful, next thing you’ll be raiding her entire collection.” Jack just laughed, shaking his head. 

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’re actually using the same shit as my sister.” Jack said. Trent smirked, tucking the balm back into his pocket with a satisfied look. 

“Gotta keep up, don’t I?” he replied, unbothered. “She knows what she’s doing.” Noah and Jack looked at each other knowingly queuing up a joke. Trent rolled his eyes, already sensing the teasing wouldn’t let up anytime soon. But he leaned back on the couch with a smirk thinking of you and your lips.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 7 - Girl of The Season xx

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

I admire your patience with those readers who need you to spoon feed them the story. Everything is in the comics but they still manage to go pass it. I can't help but feel a bit sad for them? Do they not understand what they read? Are they not attentive when reading it? I'm legitimately concerned because I function so differently I can't fathom this. If you like a story, isn't it normal to make your best to grasp it's essence and reflect on it? I know I project a lot about this, everyone works and registers things differentely of course but sometimes it's very frustrating to see people consume any media and just completely miss all the important messages in it, or even just fail to get the scenario sometimes, and it feels like it's very common now... Idk I just wanted maybe to have your perspective on this? Sorry for the long post (Been here for a few years now and your a true inspiration to me. All my luv to you! ❤️)

You know, I'm gonna be honest. I used to stress out about this... a LOT.

As a story-brained person, this is definitely something that comes naturally to me, and perhaps to you, and to many other people who are wired similarly. To us, following the path of a story in an analytic, highly detail-motivated manner and unwrapping the themes can be as exciting as lifting up a rock to see the bugs underneath. It's an exciting mental activity that's stimulating and feels effortless.

And yes, as an author who spends literally 60% of my day thinking about this comic and how to draw it, panel it, script it, make it better (I script and panel in my head constantly)........ I have trouble realizing/dealing with the fact that some people are just here to CASUALLY enjoy the story that I am lowkey obsessed with.

But I've come to realize that... that's NORMAL! And healthy.

People have different attention spans for different things.

People have varied ways to read a story and engage with it.

People have unique interests.

People don't have the same amounts of energy to devote to reading!

Maybe someone missed a detail I lovingly and painstakingly put into the dialogue because they're reading the update late at night after a long shift at work. And maybe someone scrolled past the dialogue completely and just got the gist from looking at the art, because they're in a hurry to get to practice at their favorite sportsball.

And maybe someone just had a really bad day with a really bad encounter, and they're reading the update in a terrible mood and instead of seeing MY grey-morality narrative, they're focusing on all the negative points and misread the vibes because of their own biases that stem from places of hurt.

The thing is, I have to be okay with that as an author, because I will NEVER be able to get into my audience's heads and read this comic 'correctly' for my own sake.

They will always have a slightly different interpretation of things, and they will always misunderstand details and miss clues. And sometimes, they will be wrong about the way they read a character's motivations... and sometimes maybe they won't be! That's just a part of communication. That's a part of telling a story.

An imperfect delivery, and an imperfect reception should, in my opinion, be a natural and accepted part of storytelling. We're human, and we all have a different lived experience, and we will ALL have different takes on a comic, even if it's so close that we THINK we are both getting the exact same thing. That small human interpretation variation is a home-made touch that makes it feel more organic.

In short.... Not all light particles make it here from the sun, but damn the result is stunning anyway.

[sheeezu]

Hi, I'm pretty new to shifting. I have had that "tugging" feeling in my brain a couple of times where everything around me blurred but never actually shifted. Do you have any tips about what I should do doing these times? Like close my eyes, think of a certain things, etc.

I am very bad at visualization, so I was wondering if you have any tips for that?

And also I was wondering if a script is necessary to shift? Are there any more important parts in a script?

Thank you so much, even though I have never shifted I already want to permashift once I learn.

When you start feeling symptoms, which are too strong to be premature, than it means that your 3D (physicality) is shifting, as you have already shifted in your 4D (thoughts).

The first step is to remain calm, detach yourself from the shifting process, like affirming. Its best to not get excited, but if you're feeling excitement which you can let go of, make it so your DR self is feeling excited for any reason, so you're channeling your emotional energy towards your DR as well. Its important to act like your DR self from that point onwards.

My first method doesn't involve visualising, read my pinned post.

A physical script is not important, but a general idea of what you want is important. People who are experienced in shifting (doesn't matter if they shifted or not) stop physical shifting after they've created at least one script.

This is important because you could have general multiversal laws (it really is lawless out there) safety rules and regulations established first, so you can save yourself in trouble later on.

If you don't feel like it, sit down, brainstorm everything you need and will need in your DR, the script will be stored in your subconscious, regardless.

But anyways, your subconscious knows what you want, but it's best to decide consciously so that your human brain doesn't interfere during it.

Important parts of a script:

On top of your script, write a safe word. It's could be a phrase as well, and it's better to keep a single one for all DRs. You should script that no matter what happens, you'll never forget it, this safeword will instantly shift you back to this CR, or another "safe" reality which you've decided, this could be a waiting room.

Safety rules; general stuff like not getting hurt, others which ensure you're a master shifter and manifestor, so nothing unpredictable can happen to you. Also script a LIFA app, which is like a setting app for the multiverse.

Script that everything around you perceive you as a normal human being (or whatever species you are) so that even astral beings aren't able to figure you're a shifter.

Other details regarding your DR, this doesn't have to be detailed, it's perfectly fine to leave out information, because your subconscious will fill in perfectly for you, just provide a framework.

"Whatever I have not scripted works out perfectly and exactly how I want it to."

Sorry, I'm a bit short on time, but you'll find other great posts explaining everything.

Hope this helped.

[whatdidtheydotomygirljinx]

the problem is that it's so hard to really analyze anything about arcane, and draw any conclusions about the story, because of the way it was written and conceived in the first place.

to the people who're like "yeah season 2 was bad, but season 1 was a MASTERPIECE in story writing and PERFECT in every way", that's just not true. the cracks were already there in season 1. there's multiple things, especially overarching ones, that just don't add up, and several ways that the story progresses that seem like odd choices. the thing was that, to me, the rest of it was all so good... the small details, the contained scenes were so well done, so detailed, so touching, that i really believed that maybe those cracks were just hiccups after all, and it's not a big deal, and maybe they'll even make a lot more sense and all get tied up with a nice little bow in season 2 (ha)

to me, at this point, it seems obvious that the way season 1 came into being was that these three idiots (who should never be allowed to write anything ever again) wrote a script, that was so terrible that riot had to bring in help to fix it for them (cause they were that incapable) and then someone got handed their slop and told "save this as much as you can, but keep the main points the same", and save it THEY DID! but the overarching plot is still the original one. which is why there's this dissonance all across it.

season 1 often seems like it's trying to tell two different stories at once. the example that comes easiest to me is jinx's transformation from powder to jinx post time skip. to the people i know irl who watched it, me included, the difference between these two is jarring, to the point that it just doesn't seem realistic that powder would change that much. this is what most people's reaction to her transformation was. like, sure, she changed... but jinx is almost a completely different person. and we can sit here and analyze all we want, and say yeah, but look, in ep2 min37, powder laughs when an enforcer is hurt, so that shows that she is indeed attracted to violence even at this age, but like... first of all, im at this point fully convinced that these details were put in specifically for that, to attenuate the valley that is between powder's character and jinx's, and I also honestly feel embarrassed that i even have to do all of this at all.

other notable examples are whatever is going on between jinx and silco in their relationship. like, yeah, he was actually a good father to her... but actually, there's something weird going on between them... but actually, no... he was better than vander, but actually he was worse than vander and was actually the cause of everything bad in jinx's life..... and on, and on, because the literal story itself never actually makes up its mind on what it wants the relationship between these two characters to be. same as it never makes up its mind on whether powder was a cute, innocent kid who was just manipulated by silco, or if powder was born like that and was just looking for an opportunity to release her inner jinx. same way as it never makes up its mind on whether vi is a devoted sister, who would do anything to get powder back, as she herself says, or if she actually thinks this new enforcer chick she just met is kinda cooler, as her actual actions would indicate. does silco adopt jinx because he sees himself in her, or does he intend to use her as a weapon and then later on grows to actually care about her? there comes a point where "this is a complex story" just becomes an excuse for "we were actually working with three different ideas at once and we never really decided on which one we were gonna do and we kinda just prayed it would all work out somehow"

the one thing that arcane season 2 has on season 1 is that it doesn't suffer from any of these weird identity issues. it's bad and simplistic but it's bad and simplistic in its entirety and it doesn't ever seem interested in being anything else. the story has no continuity or congruence issues, except of course for the ghost of season 1 that haunts it, and especially haunts the writers, who so far have displayed nothing but dismay for the story that actually made this show so acclaimed, and have done all they could to bury it as much as possible in season 2.

now, personally, im a big death of the author truther. even more so in cases like these, where we're dealing with teams of people. power struggles happen in studios, and in writing rooms, and at every level of production. and these three people that have taken credit don't seem like the most emotionally (or intellectually) mature individuals.

so, to solve all these issues, just know that when im discussing or analyzing arcane, im going off the interpretation of the events that serves the story the most, and that leads to the most meaningful narrative and the one that is most worth telling. all of this weird lee and overton slop that snuck in im gonna be completely ignoring.

[acheronist]

to the ghost of henry peglar, congrats on writing your poem down 177 years ago!!!

to the actual academic scholars who have studied the pages before me....

so I took the royal museum greenwich's scan of the poem page (which is available online hereeee) and screwed around with its light levels in photoshop until henry's script was darkened enough to see more clearly. then I digitally traced over the darkened letters as best as I could, while also trying to discern his handwriting, and type up how I was reading it & this process took me about a week to get done between like... living my regular day to day life lmao.......

so when it WAS done, the final isabel acheronist peglar papers ["the open C"] transcript seemed a bit different than how I remembered the readily available russell potter transcript going ? (the poem is on the last two pages of that pdf for those of you who don't spend a billion hours a week looking at it btw)

it felt like I was getting more/different information out of it, compared to the potter transcript, which was kind of stressing me out honestly. so THEN I compared mine with barry cornwall's original poem and found more words that matched up? particularly in the second and third stanzas?

so!!!!! almost two hundred years later here's what I've landed on:

April 21 1847 the C the C the open C it grew so fresh the Ever free the Ever free the Ever free without it without it covered it will Run to Earth above Re gions Round I love the C I love the C when I whare & I wish to be with and and silence whare Never go if a sailor should a Come and Make the meek What matter what matter Come Ride Or Sleep there was shores white and of red morn at the noisy hours knew I was ever near I was Born the [...] in felt Unto the Maid the wale the young dolphin ...... yet thes back of gold the Call of gods When I was on Old England Shore I like the young C more and more oftentimes time flew to a sweltering place like a bird thats seeks it mother Case and ware she was bird oft to me for have I loved a young and Hopen C

so then after going thru All Of That, I wanted to have a version of the original poem with parts that Henry did remember clearly highlighted for comparison purposes:

I know it's a popular theory that Henry was writing a dirty parody of the original poem? which if true, is funny as hell. me when i have to write cheeky victorian porn before i die.

But (serious voice) something about that hadn't ever seemed exactly right to me... IN MY HEART it seems more realistic that around 1847 he (and also by extension, the whole surviving expedition crew) were starting to experience confusion / brain fog symptoms from being ummmm quite physically unwell. the lead poisoning/scurvy combo would have severe effects on the brain's ability to function properly, and I started to wonder if Henry was trying to test his memory somehow? So he picked a widely known and popular Victorian era poem about being a sailor to see how much he could recall??? and he then got a little whimsical with it, and wrote in his own words to fill in the portions he couldn't fully recall, because it's his own diary and likely didn't expect anyone else to ever read it, much less have it turn into ONE of TWO surviving sources about the expedition?????

like... idk... this is probably the work of someone in the exact moment as they were starting to realize how bad things were, and then was trying to cope by using poetry. and That hurts my feelings enough as it is, but going through it was also just a very weird and haunting experience....... like, I can recognize all these tiny details in this dead guy's script and handwriting now. and to read his own account of his life in his own words, what stood out to him and what he recalled, what he wanted people in the future to know about him? insane. it literally felt like i was getting haunted by him for no reason. on top of knowing that Someone (#teamarmitage) loved this guy enough to keep his memory protected and safe, even though They Were So Totally Fucked And Going To Die There, unknowing if they'd ever be found again........

SIGHING + SIGHING + SIGHING + SIGHING + CRYING A BIT HONESTLY

anyways thanks for reading this all. I don't think that this is revolutionary franklin expedition news by any means, and idk if there's a better different transcript somewhere that i've not found that already covers all this? but it's consumed a lot of my life lately lol and i wanted to share. because its the anniversary of henry writing it, and it felt...... important....? 💌....????

[fandomsnrambles]

The spinjitzu family has recently become my roman empire for some reason, you’re all going to see so much of them 😭

Anyway, i’ve been thinking about his relationships with his sons recently. And I know he doesn’t have a good relationship with any of them.

I know people argue ‘Wu was his favourite’ but i think if we actually look at how he acts, you realise he didn’t really have a favourite. I also feel personally inclined to respectfully mention that just because Garmadon said it, doesn’t make it true. Characters have biases that mess with their worldviews after all. It’s like saying Wu’s to blame for the devourer’s bite because he said he was. Even though he was like seven, maybe nine and had no idea that snake even existed.

Thats why you should take everything they say with a grain of salt and then consider their actions.

Wu’s relationship with his father is complicated. In the spinjitzu books he mentions how he wants his father’s approval, but doesn’t know how to start with getting it. We also get hints of the FSM’s (flawed) parenting methods in the show. I’ve noticed he’s emotionally distant even if he’s physically there. I mean, Wu says his father talked to them (Garmadon and Wu) less after the Aspheera incident. Makes me think that the FSM was definitely not there emotionally.

Due to this, Wu’s emotional needs as a child weren’t really met. His fathers distance hurt him and the FSM (maybe accidentally) neglected him. I say accidentally because i’m pretty sure the FSM is a traumatised child soldier who doesn’t know how to properly cope with everything so they just shut down/dissociate.

Wu was also raised with high expectations (alongside Garmadon.) This probably put him under a lot of stress to keep up. I’m thinking gifted child who got burnt out and more depressed as he aged.

I also think the FSM has trust and paranoia issues. You can look at Nineko and the way they went about dying for this. This guy really hands their son a script of where he died without telling him he gave it to him and mentions the bare minimum details. (I wonder if mentioning too much details got the FSM hurt. Maybe thats why he’s so distant.) Of course, trauma doesn’t really excuse being a flawed parent.

I also feel the need to mention that Wu unintentionally copies his father’s trauma responses. Heck, we could even talk about how Garmadon does the same, and later Lloyd. They all bottle their emotions and issues and hope nothing bad ever happens with that ever. Too bad for them though, we know how this ends

(Oof this is ✨generational trauma✨ at work)

Moving on to Garmadon, we know that after he got bitten by the devourer, the FSM helped him through his episodes and tries his best to find a cure. From this i can honestly say that the FSM did love and care for his sons. But this doesn’t mean they knew how to properly show that they did (especially because he doesn’t have a proper basis for what parent-child relationships should even look like.)

We see this when we get to know of Garmadon’s insecurities as a child. He doesn’t think there was anything wrong with him and seems to hate how the FSM tries to find a cure for him. Maybe because he doesn’t like the implication that he needs ‘fixing’ more than anything else. Garmadon’s also different than Wu in the sense that he grows more resentful of his father as he grows older whilst Wu clings to his father’s attention to get approval/praise.

I also want to mention how this resentment built up also affects how his perception of Wu’s relationship with their dad. He thinks Wu is favoured probably because Wu doesn’t have the venom and is the good one (because the venom apparently makes Garmadon the ‘bad’ one) and he sees his younger brother as the golden child. This probably built to jealousy and then guilt for the jealousy because Garmadon does love his brother a lot.

The high expectations also come’s into play here. It probably puts a lot of weight on Garmadon’s shoulders. Which doesn’t make his growing feelings of resentment better nor does it make his insecurities about his venom any better.

What makes this whole situation worse is that NO ONE in this family knows how to communicate. Wu doesn’t tell his dad or his brother how he feels, Garmadon doesn’t as well and FSM wouldn’t be caught breathing a word of his feelings to be honest.

This whole family would rather die than communicate ffs.

In conclusion:

[olomaya]

Toddler Bed : Now CASTable!

Thanks so much to @id-element0 for making the bed CAStable! You can download it here. Please note it will overwrite the one you have downloaded in the game (but you'd probably want to anyway).

I am working on an update to the bed that will allow Teens+ to tell bedtime stories to toddlers. Also to fix the "twitch" toddlers get after jumping off and some clipping, so stay tuned.

Older updates:

The updated version includes the proper animations that were meant for release and the following small fixes:

Tuck In interaction should now only show up when a toddler is actually sleeping (will not show up during naps)

Fun motive delta for jumping on the bed should be working now

I added a small energy drain for jumping as well (you can reduce further or remove entirely in the ITUN file)

Tuck In now only available for Sims that have a good relationship (30+ LTR) with the toddler (no randos tucking in your child)

@bh506 already let me know of one issue so if anyone is having similar issues after redownloading, please let me know!

Description:

This is a toddler bed, similar to Arsil's Napping Mat which was a big inspiration and great reference for me, especially the genius idea of using a geostate instead of dealing with pesky bed animations.

If you have the napping mat (you don't need it for this bed), you already know the deal. Toddlers can autonomously sleep or nap in the bed (they will climb in and out of it themselves with no adult help).

Toddlers can also jump on the bed for fun but they shouldn't because it's dangerous! They can fall while getting off and hurt themselves. If a teen or adult is around, they will stop automatically.

If a toddler is in a bad mood and is sleeping, they may have a bad dream and wake up and won't be able to go back to sleep for a couple of hours. (I forgot to mention that they won't get a bad dream if they have the Cuddle Time moodlet which you get from sleeping with a stuffed animal.) They can find an adult they trust and complain and be consoled which will get rid of the negative moodlet and allow them to fall back asleep. They can also do this if they get injured from jumping on the bed.

Credits/thanks: Arsil for inspiration and script references. The bed mesh is from TS4 but the blanket is from @aroundthesims. Old bed jumping animations from TheSweetSimmer have been removed but still going to include her!

Thanks to @nobodysgirl333, there's an alternative SFS link if you're having trouble with Box downloads.

Download HERE / SFS (CASTable version HERE)

______________

Please read additional info and details after the cut

Additional Notes:

You can copy the script to apply to other beds but of course depending on the size/height/position of the mesh, the animations may look weird. Update: You need to make sure that bed object has a 2 routing slots, however, named Slot.RoutingSlot_0 and Slot.RoutingSlot_1, otherwise the Sim will reset.

I set the energy motive to be low because toddlers IRL sleep a long time but you can go into the ITUN and adjust if you want.

Some of the animations are little wonky because I'm using a mix of TS4, TS3 and a period of about 10 months in terms of my confidence/skill level with Blender.

This is originally based off a crib mesh so the entry slot is only on one side (see pic below). You can put the left side against a wall but note toddlers won't be able to jump on the bed and other Sims won't be able to tuck them in since that is where they route to do so.

@pis3update @katsujiiccfinds @kpccfinds @xto3conversionsfinds

[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's Sweet and Sour Date (Part 2)

⚡Warning: This post contains detailed spoiler for a date which hasn't been released in EN yet!⚡

[Released Date: 6 December 2024]

[Section 3]

Seeing that my character in the script was about to be taken to a completely different place by Shaw's words, I started to think of an explanation in my mind.

MC (makes up a story): Uh... actually, I’m the sister of the Lovesick Maiden. My name is 'Qing Si, the Second Miss.'

MC: This person is indeed the one I like. He is the young master of the Ling family. MC: Because the elder sister is suffering from lovesickness and resting in her room, she asked me, her younger sister, to temporarily take her place and welcome kind-hearted guests.

The tourists all murmured a long "Oh," their expressions full of curiosity.

Compared to following the tasks and storyline step by step, it was clear that they were much more interested in this unexpected turn of events.

Tourists: So, do we still need to find the Lovesick Scholar? MC: Yes, yes, please take this mandarin duck sachet from my elder sister to him. He will explain things to you. Tourists: No problem, don't worry, Miss Second. How about Mr. Ling? Does he have any tasks to issue?

Shaw: Your task is to go find the scholar quickly. Don’t delay me and the Second Miss from enjoying our romance. Tourists: Hahaha, understood! You two continue enjoying your time together!

The tourists took the sachet, laughing and joking, waved goodbye. As soon as they left, I turned around and punched Shaw twice.

MC (pouting): Humph, you just want to see me embarrassed!

Shaw: Not at all, isn’t this the kind of improvisation an NPC should have?

Shaw didn’t dodge. Instead, he grabbed my finger and lightly bit it.

After we played around for a while and sent off a few more batches of tourists with the same story as before, Shaw pointed at the cloth bag on the ground.

Shaw: So, when can you get off work? After you deliver all these sachets?

MC: It’s still early. Handing out the sachets is just the first part of the storyline. After the scholar receives the sachet, he will understand the maiden's feelings and go back to work hard.

MC: Once the players help the scholar complete the 'achieve success and fame' task, there will be a scene where the Lovesick Maiden marries him. Only after that will the story be considered finished.

Shaw (fuming with anger): Getting married? So that's how it is…

MC (confused): So that’s how it is?

Shaw (someone is feeling jellyx1): What I mean is, Miss MC is in luck. The etiquette consultant for this town is Professor Shen. He's quite busy, so some of the work gets handed off to his graduate students.

Shaw (x2): When it comes time for the wedding vows, I'll be the one helping you with the reciting.

MC (speechless): ……

His tone wasn’t just jealousy anymore—it was like eating raw hawthorn or biting into a green lemon tart!

But instead of feeling bothered, I felt a sweet sensation blooming in my heart from Shaw's boiling jealousy. I grinned and leaned closer to him.

MC: Hey, you really don't want me to marry someone else?

Shaw (x3 + dangerous laughter): Well, it's not too bad. After all, it's 'Lovesick Maiden' getting married, it's all just acting.

Hmph, here it comes again, the classic Shaw stubbornness. I leaned in a little closer and lowered my voice.

MC: But I don't want to get married. How about you elope with me like you did last time?

[T/N]: This is a reference from his surging date!

Shaw (clicks his tongue): Eloping is such a bad idea. Miss MC is so responsible; how could I let you slack off at such a critical moment?

MC: …..

Seeing that he didn't respond to me at all, I couldn't help but get a little anxious.

MC (angrily): Shaw, enough already. I’m practically giving you a way out, and you...

Shaw (still not giving up on his stubbornness act): What do I need a way out for?

Shaw raised his eyebrows and turned his face away.

Shaw: Just go to work with peace of mind.

MC (feeling hurt): …..

The sweetness that had been flowing moments ago completely faded in the awkward standoff, turning into an indescribable sense of agitation.

I bit my lip, no longer trying to hide my emotions, and pushed him sullenly.

MC: No problem, I’ll focus on my work, you can go take a walk in the streets. After I finish the wedding, we can meet again.

Shaw: …..

Shaw turned his head and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just brushed off his clothes and stood up.

Shaw: Okay.

Shaw, this guy! He actually left!

I don't want to care about him anymore in my life!!

I initially thought Shaw was just trying to scare me, but after several batches of tourists came and left, that tall figure never appeared in the courtyard again.

My emotions fermented in the waiting and the emptiness, shifting from simple frustration to a more complex and unspoken anger.

A sourness crept into my nose, and memories of the small, unnoticed tensions whenever I was with him began to surface uncontrollably in my mind.

MC: It’s always like this, always...

I can’t recall how those events happened or how they were resolved afterward—-

It felt like all those memories had become fuel for a fire, feeding the flames of my anger, making it burn hotter and hotter.

Yet, when footsteps echoed at the entrance of the courtyard, I instinctively turned my hopeful gaze in that direction once more.

Sister Xiaolan: Oh, that's great, little MC, you're still here. MC: Sister Xiaolan? Sister Xiaolan: It's me. I'm sorry for having you cover for me all this time. I’m feeling better now, so I’ll take over the rest of the work. You can go get some rest.

I saw that she had changed into her outfit, looking much better, and after giving her a couple of instructions, I handed over the remaining sachets to her.

Finishing up early works perfectly—I can go find Shaw right now... and have a good, long argument with him!

Toot—toot—

The phone call went unanswered, the long busy tone ringing before automatically disconnecting. I slowly tightened my grip on the phone, as though I was tightening my hold on my own heart.

What does it mean that he’s not answering my calls? Does he not want to talk to me? Is he preparing to start a cold war with me?

MC: How is that possible? What am I thinking? Hahaha…

I knew I couldn't just let my thoughts and emotions slide in a scary direction, but the insecurity of not being able to contact Shaw was making me feel suffocated.

MC: It must be too noisy in the town, and he didn’t notice his phone... Actually, this kind of thing isn’t something to discuss over the phone. It’s better to talk about it face-to-face.

I forced myself to clear my mind of the chaotic thoughts, stood up and ran towards the long street.

The sunlight began to move westward, but the streets were still bustling with tourists.

At the end of the long street, I didn’t know when the sound of music began to play, likely signaling that today’s main event, the "Lovesick Couple's Union," was about to begin.

And none of this has anything to do with me.

I searched against the crowd, stopping passers-by one after another.

MC: Hello, have you seen a young man with blue-purple hair, wearing ancient costumes? Really? Thank you. MC: Hello, have you seen the young man in the photo? I lost him... Well, thank you, sorry. MC: Excuse me, have you seen the young man in the photo?

The festive music was getting closer and closer, so I had to raise my voice and ask again so that the tourists in front of me could hear what I was saying clearly.

She glanced at the photo, then looked around, and suddenly raised her hand, pointing in one direction.

Tourists: Isn't he the one you're looking for?

I looked in the direction she pointed and was stunned for a moment.

The wedding gown gleamed brightly, with sharp brows and starry eyes. The bright red headband accentuated the striking blue-purple hair, making it even more eye-catching.

How come the groom riding on the horse is Shaw?!

[Section 4]

MC: Shaw—! Tourists: Wow, the groom is so handsome, and he is a perfect match for the Lovesick Maiden~ MC (in a loud voice): Shaw, I'm here!

Shaw had a smile on his face, and was looking ahead expectantly. He couldn't hear my voice at all, nor could he see me in the hustle and bustle.

Tourists: Strange...I remember the scholar wasn't played by this person? Tourists: Maybe it's a plot setting, we'll know when we go to the wedding!

The crowd was like thick, impenetrable walls, and my calls were completely drowned in the noise. I could only watch helplessly as the wedding procession passed right in front of me.

I was swept forward by the crowd and arrived at the wedding square.

Master of Ceremonies: Invite the bride!

Surrounded by the crowd, the bride and groom came to the center.

Shaw looked at the bride in the red veil with a smile, tenderness in his eyes that could not be concealed.

Shaw (THE WAY HE RECITED IT WITH SUCH AFFECTION): The magpie has its nest, and the dove resides in it. The bride returns to her home, escorted by a hundred carriages.

[T/N]: This is a classical Chinese poem, often interpreted as symbolizing a woman’s marriage and her journey from her family to her husband’s home, accompanied by great ceremony and respect.

MC (stunned): ……

I stared at the newlyweds, knowing clearly that it was all fake, all acting, but the sadness and grievance that was ignored kept piling up in my heart.

In the end, it turned into overwhelming jealousy.

In an instant, I completely understood Shaw's feelings today that he never expressed out loud.

It wasn't possible from the beginning, even if it was just acting.

You cannot exchange 'affections' with anyone else, you cannot 'marry' anyone else, and most of all, you cannot have feelings for anyone else!

Master of Ceremonies: The newlyweds shall bow to each other—

As the officiant was about to guide the couple through the bowing ceremony, I didn't know where the strength came from, but I pushed my way through the crowd with all my might.

MC: Wait a moment-----!

For a moment, the music and the noise disappeared. I took a deep breath and shouted loudly to the stage, word by word.

MC (shouts from the top of her lungs): SHAW, YOU. CAN. ONLY. MARRY. ME!

Everyone's eyes were focused on me, and Shaw's eyes widened with disbelief.

Shaw (confused): Wait, why would you... Then she is…

Sister Xiaolan, who was playing the bride, quickly lifted her veil when she heard the commotion, and was also startled by Shaw in front of her.

Sister Xiaolan: Eh? I remember you were little MC's boyfriend, why are you here…

It seemed like everyone at the wedding had momentarily frozen, but surprisingly, it was one of the tourists who first recognized us.

Tourist A: Hey, isn't this the Second miss and her Young Master Ling? Tourist B: What, what, did I miss something?

The audience who had seen Shaw and I began to explain the "hidden plot" to others, and excitement spread among the crowd in an instant.

Sister Xiaolan: Didn't you hear what my sister said, silly boy, you almost married the wrong bride!

The music, which had previously stopped backstage, suddenly resumed. Shaw stepped in time with the notes, slowly making his way toward me with deliberate steps.

Shaw (lovingly): MC. 

As I maneuvered through the crowd, my skirt picked up quite a bit of dust, and the hairpin was askew.

But Shaw's gaze was as if he were looking at a precious treasure that had been lost and then found again.

In an instant, he finally woke up from his dream and quickened his pace.

Amid the crowd's exclamations, my groom rushed towards me and hugged me tightly.

I responded to his embrace with almost greedy force.

MC: Did you hear what I just said? Shaw (in a sweet, tender voice): Of course I heard it. Shaw (HIS A LOVESICK FOOL): Since you only want me to marry you, why don't you take me with you?

Shaw (DAMMIT, HE SAID THIS IN SUCH AN AFFECTIONATE VOICE SKSK): My bride.

The crowd cheered and applauded, automatically making way for us as if they were watching a good show. I held his hand tightly and ran towards the setting sun.

_

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, we “eloped” all the way to the deep bamboo forest, a place off-limits to tourists. As soon as we stopped, the phone from the performance team rang.

MC: Sorry for the trouble we've caused... Sister Xiaolan: It’s okay, the audience thought it was a plot arrangement, and later the scholar came back and completed the ceremony. Sister Xiaolan: The scriptwriter said this development was very interesting and planned to turn this accident into a permanent story!

After giving a few more instructions, I hung up the phone and turned to look at Shaw.

And he looked at me steadily.

We stared at each other for a long time, and finally Shaw spoke first.

Shaw (scream in pain): So... hiss!

Shaw was caught off guard by the sudden move, and just as I thought I could struggle some more, he had already firmly pinned my hand.

My emotions have been up and down all day, my mind has been in a mess, and I don’t know what to say.

MC: You don't know anything at all…

Shaw: You didn't say anything, how was I supposed to know? MC: You don't know how worried I was when I couldn't reach you... After finally finding you, you were about to marry someone else...

Shaw listened to my "accusation" and he also felt a little helpless.

Shaw (feeling wronged): This is such a mix-up! I couldn’t reach you either! I thought you’d keep playing the role of the young lady, so I went to find that scholar...

Shaw frowned and his throat rolled violently.

Shaw (he sounded so hurt and wronged here): I wanted to marry you, to give you a surprise. MC (starts crying): No surprise, what surprise? I’m not surprised at all… not one bit!

The bitterness finally had an outlet to pour out, and my eyes were red as I glared at him.

MC: Rather than some surprise wedding, I’d rather have you stop being so difficult all the time. MC: I want to hear your sincerity.

Shaw was silent again.

In the tense silence, his hand remained firm until the moment when a sharp pain radiated through my skin and bones. At that instant, Shaw suddenly released his grip and leaned against me.

Shaw (in a serious tone x1): ….. MC. 

His voice, hoarse and tinged with a nasal tone, reached my ear.

Shaw (x2): I'm not being stubborn... I just... just can't say it out loud. Shaw (x3): "I don't want you to be an NPC and pretend to be a couple with someone else, even if that person doesn't show up"; Shaw (x4): "I don't want to see you marry someone else, even if it's just a show.”

Shaw (troubled by his own feelings): The thought of myself fretting over such trivial matters like an ordinary person disgusts me.

Shaw: I thought I could solve it in some "cool" way.

Shaw: Without making me say such petty things, I still want to make you happy.

MC: I'm not happy…

Shaw: But you're not happy.

Shaw's voice overlapped with mine. He gently cupped my face, and a kiss landed on my eyes, hotter than the tears that had yet to fall.

Shaw (in a low gentle tone x1): I know you've discovered it a long time ago…

Shaw (x2): Every time I pretended not to care and turned everything upside down for you, I was actually jealous to death.

I nodded, and Shaw's kiss slid to the tip of my nose.

Shaw (in a soft, sweet whisper x1): I am very petty and a super stingy person.

Shaw (x2): Do you still want to marry such a stingy person?

MC (happily): I do, so much.

The restless heart that had been wavering finally found its anchor in the shared breath, resonating with the fervent rhythm of his heartbeat.

Shaw let out a soft, muffled laugh. His lips descended again, capturing mine in a seamless, fervent kiss.

Suddenly I remembered that we also escaped from a wedding a long time ago.

At that time, Shaw seemed so relaxed and unrestrained——

Has he already become a super miser?

Not even a needle can fit in.

Until our breathing and moods slowly calmed down in this kiss, I snuggled in his arms and belatedly remembered the most important thing.

MC: ...Now that the theater has already ended, we can't hold the wedding ceremony, right?

Shaw (HE'S SUCH A GREEN FLAG): Then we won’t do it. MC: But if we don’t do it, wouldn’t it just be a runaway marriage? Shaw (in a lighthearted tone x1): Who said that? Shaw (x2): "Where there are no clouds, there is no rain; where there is no matchmaker, there is no marriage." As long as we find a "matchmaker," it won’t count as a runaway marriage.

Perhaps it was because he had untied a huge knot in his heart, Shaw's voice sounded particularly comfortable at this moment.

He looked around and pointed forward toward an old tree at the end of the bamboo forest.

Shaw (x3): Let's go with that one. It looks just like a matchmaker.

MC: Pfft... How do you know this tree looks like a matchmaker?

Shaw (x4): It feels right. Besides, there are precedents in ancient times for using trees as matchmakers. Since it's "getting married," following ancient customs is fine.

MC: That's nonsense.

Shaw (x5): Nonsense is still logic.

As Shaw spoke, he took out the red veil.

Shaw (x6): Want to cover it?

MC: Yes!

I nodded without hesitation, and he covered my face with the veil. For a moment, my eyes were full of burning red.

Because my vision was blocked, Shaw didn't walk very fast with me.

He walked step by step with determination and confidence, but the slight dampness in the palm of his hand revealed his current emotions.

MC: Shaw.

Shaw (clicks his tongue): Tsk, have you ever heard of the rule that a bride cannot talk when she is wearing a veil? MC: But I really want to talk to you, you don't want to listen, do you? Shaw: Want to hear.

There was no stubbornness, no retort; this rare display of sincerity from Shaw made my heart, which had calmed down, race again.

MC: I want to say… MC: I didn’t dislike the roundabout way you used to be, it was cute. Of course, the straightforward you now is also very cute. Shaw: Can you use a different word? Do "cute" and I even go together? MC: How about "cool"? Shaw: Aren’t those two descriptions a bit too far apart? MC: But in my heart, it's all you.

Shaw snorted. Even through the veil, I could tell what his expression was.

Shaw: If you say so, I also have something to say. MC: What?

Suddenly, the veil that was covering my eyes was lifted up by a hand.

I looked at the young man in front of me with a bright smile and unconcealed affection in his eyes.

I really love the new BGM which starts playing at this part!

The dim sunlight, with the warmth of a warm winter, was filtered through layers of bamboo leaves and fell on us.

Shaw (HIS VOICE SWEET AS HONEY X1): Just now, you were as wronged as a red-eyed rabbit, and then you stood up during the ceremony and loudly “stole the groom”. Shaw (X2): Both cool and cute.

It’s hard to explain, but it feels like he shoved a mix of sour dates, sweet pears, and bitter apricots all at once into my mouth.

In the end, I couldn't say anything and could only snort loudly like he did just now.

MC: The cool, cute, and petty bride is now giving the groom his first task — to repeat his vows just for me.

Shaw's smile became wider and he held my hand even tighter.

Shaw (laughs): Is the oath enough? Shaw: Together we share, and in unity we bond. As a student of a ceremonial advisor, my efforts are not in vain. Shaw: MC, everything you want, I can do it all.

He and I couldn't help but quicken our pace, holding hands, our hair and red thread flying in the air.

Maybe we still can't grasp the so-called perfect measure of getting along with each other, but I am sure that we will become what each other expects.

We both know that happiness is just ahead.

Shaw: The auspicious time has arrived.

[Section 5]

I regret it.

The moment I left the garden, I regretted it.

The instinctive urge to find her made me turn around and take two steps, but I forced myself to stop.

After all, what should I say when I get back? Say that I know I was wrong?

But I don’t know where to start talking about this “wrong”. Besides, if that was "wrong", she was wrong too.

I raised my head and looked in her direction.

From this angle, all I could see was a small section of her dark blue hairpin. She had been standing motionless by the artificial hill, almost like an NPC. I stared at her for a long time, until the clouds in the sky slowly moved away, and the overly bright sunlight fell on the hairpins in her hair. The reflected light hurt my eyes. ... Don’t you want to look for me at all? Not even lifting your head?

I don't know why, but I suddenly felt a dull discomfort in my chest. This feeling wasn't the first time I'd had it today. I had the same feeling when she smiled and said she wanted the players to give the mandarin duck sachet to a scholar this morning.

But how can I tell her?

"I’m so sad! I’m jealous! You’re not allowed to play a couple with anyone else! ... Just thinking about it makes me feel disgusted. If being in a relationship makes me turn into such a cliché person, I’d rather die. Thinking of this, I simply turned and walked toward the long street, stopping a tourist holding a pair of mandarin duck sachets. 'Hello, do you know where I can find the lovesick scholar?' I’m Shaw, and of course, I’ll solve the problem in my own way. The frustration from the morning had already been eased by her first 'lovesickness,' but I can’t just sit by and watch her become 'a couple' with someone else."

The negotiation with the scholar went much smoother than I had imagined, and I was also clear about the wedding process. But when I changed into the wedding dress and picked up the wedding vows, I still felt a bit stunned. When I helped them refine the wedding ceremony, I never thought that in the end, I would be the one using them.

"The magpie builds its nest, and the dove dwells in it. The bride goes to her home, escorted by a hundred pairs of guards..." I whispered each word softly.

———— Thousands of years ago, when weddings were still called “wedding rites” (the ceremony for marriage), the groom would recite such words. Thinking of this, my heartbeat inexplicably quickened, and the scenes that had once been chaotic in my mind became increasingly clear under the influence of the words.

In the dusk, she stood at the end of the long street, wearing a wedding dress, waiting for me. I would recite the vows, lift her veil with my own hands, drink the wedding wine with her, and finally hold her hand, accepting everyone's blessings. It’s so interesting. A person like me, who doesn’t believe in marriage at all, can still feel sweetness in such a childish fantasy, like playing house. I looked at myself in the mirror and tugged at the corner of my mouth.

When I put down the vows, I glanced at my hand. In a daze, it seemed like another hand appeared in my palm, hers. It was much smaller than mine, much softer, and with just my fingers together, I could completely envelop her hand.

... It’s just that when it comes to hitting, I do have some strength. If it weren’t for my impulsive decision to leave, I should still be playing the role of Young Master Ling, holding her hand and frolicking in the garden, right? The moment that thought crossed my mind, a wave of regret suddenly surged in my heart. I started to doubt whether replacing the scholar to marry her was a bad idea. What if she doesn’t like it?

"How could that be?" This completely unexpected surprise, she would definitely like it. Absolutely.

I repeated this word in my mind, stood up, and walked toward the door.

It's time to go get married.

—

⚡Call 1

⚡Call 2 

[papatacomia]

what i learned during my shifting break

tw: a little demotivating in the beginning, skip if you don’t wanna read!! also long post btw xd

While I was on break from shifting, I took the time to really ask myself “what shifting meant to me?” I’ve spent so much time and effort trying to shift that it became a chore, and something I desperately had to do.

I would have the intention to shift, hype myself and affirm throughout the night only to wake up in my cr. It honestly became stressful, and at times I felt like I was stuck. No matter how much effort or energy I put into shifting, I would always end up in the same place.

At some point, I didn’t even bother trying to affirm or visualize that I was in my dr, I would just roll to my side and hope for the best. I felt hopeless, and decided it was time to take a break from shifting entirely.

Although it hurt taking a break, I decided to use my time wisely by reevaluating what shifting meant to me and what I wanted to gain from it. At the time, I saw shifting as something out of this world and put it on a pedestal. I didn’t bother to actually do the research about shifting, I just heard “oh you can go to (x reality) and have the best time of your life!!!” without actually learning what it is.

I would watch so many videos about shifting, how to do it and spent hours trying to perfect my script that I didn’t have the patience to learn the basics of what shifting actually is. When I started doing research, I realized that shifting isn’t special or unique, but something we’ve all been doing with our thoughts and choices.

Something else I learned was that I didn’t need methods or subliminals to help me shift because all I needed was myself. I made myself shift, not a method or a subliminal. They’re simply tools to help you reach that end goal but they’re not the reason why you shift.

This was also the time where I learned about law of assumption and how it can be applied to shifting. Just to save time, I learned that LOA states that whatever you assume to be true must be true. For example if I assume that shifting is easy, then shifting is easy. Our thoughts create our reality, by telling myself that shifting is easy then it becomes true because I assume it is.

(There is a more detailed explanation about using LOA and shifting by @/heliosoll, I really recommend you reading their post!! super informative and helpful)

With all of those things in mind, it really helped change my perspective about shifting, and why I wanna shift. One of my main goals with shifting is meeting new people and gaining new experiences that I otherwise couldn’t here. I wanna be with my s/o and also develop long lasting relationships with other people.

Shifting is no longer a chore or something I need to do, but it’s something I enjoy doing and have faith in myself for. I know there’s still a few things I need to adjust, but I’m so thankful that I’ve reached this point where I no longer view my “failures” as something bad but a step closer to my dr.

I originally wanted to make this a small post, but I thought it would be more helpful to somewhat detail what I did and learned. I know I’m not the first nor last in doing this but I hope whoever reads this realize that you are never stuck or hopeless when it comes to shifting. Take a breather, and step back from shifting if you have too because it can really be beneficial and even helpful to your journey.

anyways thank you for reading, take care of yourselves and i’ll see you in the next time !!

[dayscapism]

My Thoughts on the Percy Jackson TV Show (was not a fan):

Months have passed but, I guess I like to throw wood to embers to make fires again. Honestly, I would have abandoned it after episode 3 if it weren't one of my favourite book series ever and I wanted so bad to be hopeful and pleasantly surprised.

I don't think it's a terrible adaptation, but I think it's boring, badly edited, with character inconsistencies, has first-draft-level writing and just missed potential. I'm happy it's been working for so many others, but I've also seen a lot of people being so reluctant to negatively criticise anything about it. Which is weird, it makes me feel like we're watching two different shows and I'm the problem (am I the drama? perhaps. I don't care.)

It's not been an easy time to watch for me; it's a sustained, painful, physical effort to pay attention to this show, especially during dialogue scenes. Like how do you make a show about a bunch of ADHD kids and make it so NOT ADHD-friendly to watch?? (The writers and editors should watch EEAAO, that's how an ADHD brain approaches visual media). The pacing, the terrible exposition, it's the static and uninteresting camera work, the lack of a campy hyping music/soundtrack, the lack of stylization, the lazy editing, the actors stopping to chat in a static shot every other minute, no running during urgent situations, etc. Nothing is engaging! It's such a boring show! There's always exactly 1 thing happening on screen and nothing else around it, no hidden meanings, no mystery, nothing that could be layered storytelling, which is such an important thing in a TV show where you only have 8 episodes to tell your story! Spekaing of, ADHD and dyslexia don't seem to be shown or discussed again after it's mentioned that Percy has it in episodes 1-2. I was hoping for bolder representation with that. (Why didn't they include the little dialogue where neither Percy of Annabeth can figure out the sign at the emporium because of dyslexia, and Grover has to tell them? These little moments count so much for representation of this kind!)

The dialogue paired with the pacing/humour is not landing. It truly feels unpolished, like a first draft. Like technically it serves its purpose, but it's an ineffective, unengaging manner to write a tv script. They should have done more flashbacks too, to give context and exposition. But instead, everything is given to us like you would in a book. (And this is coming from someone who read the books years ago so I NEED this exposition because I don't remember a lot of details, but the exposition isn't even helpful and the writing doesn't keep me engaged enough for me to even pay attention to the exposition!) The actors are doing the best with the material they have, they're all really precious, but this writing and directing is hurting their acting so bad. The dialogue and scenes are so awkward, which hurts the chemistry between the characters too (I expand on my issues with the characters later).

A lot of the tone and pacing issues could just be a book-to-tv adaptation thing because we're no longer in Percy's head with his funny sarcastic remarks and long paragraphs that can give us context. But then why didn't they include narration? Why didn't they keep it up after the intro in episode 1?? Why did they even include that bit if they weren't going to keep it up?? We have 4th-wall narration in lots of things these days (from the top of my head, Fleabag and Deadpool), usually done for comedic and style effect. This would help so much with the pacing and tone! the lost potential is so frustrating. Many movies/shows don't need narration; this one could have benefitted so much from it.

The show is not funny whatsoever when the books are hilarious. At no point did I laugh out loud here. Such a crime. I hate to be one of THOSE but the movies at least got the unserious and funny beats right. Like why is the music in this show just an epic forgettable MCU-like soundtrack but with a serious tone? Why didn't they include modern or campy songs? They should have taken clues from the Umbrella Academy's first seasons. And they could have included Greek music in it too! How cool would that have been? It's not a bad soundtrack by any means, but if nothing else is used in a very strange manner in some scenes because it sometimes cuts the action or doesn't match the energy or vibe of the scenes. The visuals and settings are pretty good, I admit, but these are underserviced by the entire production's lack of style and music and tone are a big part of that.

Some people have said the action scenes are bad, but I feel the problem is there's no sense of urgency, of danger (no layered storytelling here either). The fights with the monsters are okay, great even, the problem is this lack of excitement. The problem is the setups to the action: the lack of tension and then rushed resolutions. For example, they dragged the scenes with Medusa and Equidna talking that it lost all suspense. Equidna literally says instead of just jumping to it, showing what she would do to them kids. (Ok the chimera is cool tho, looks really cool. I want it as a pet 😊 And the editing when Percy falls from the arch is pretty cool too, rare exception.)

But most feels so underwhelming. These kids should also be running everywhere, not calmy walking (bad directing!) This makes the monsters not feel as menacing, because they always have time for a calm exposition break long conversations in the middle of what are supposed to be life-or-death encounters with ancient Greek monsters. And mind you, these pauses for conversation aren't even layered, they're often shot with a static camera, with dull dialogue no 12 yo would speak. They could be having these conversations while running, while hiding, while doing something else! Mix dialogue and action! Layered storytelling, it's about themes and characters but also about how you present the scenes themselves.

An adjacent problem is also that the actualization of the myths for a modern audience is a bit surface-level (like with Medusa). They could have done so much more here.

Now, issues with characterization:

Characters can really make or break a story. Here we have a lot of character inconsistencies, or rather, a lack of definition of the characters. It's not about the show being exactly accurate to the book here, it's the show wasting perfectly good character and plot moments from the show, while not being true to tone and to the core of the characters. Change in adaptations can be good, to consolidate or make things clearer and work for the new medium, but they character work here was very ineffective and inefficient.

Percy is supposed to be cunning, smart but not knowledgeable about the Greek world. The show has this being reversed many times.

Grover is perceptive and has more life experience but he is reduced to nothing here. Like I'm wondering why is he even here?

And Annabeth... Oh. Annabeth is a hard character to portray and write, tbh, it's easy to make her unlikable and straightforward, can very easily come off as annoying, pedantic perhaps, though I am all for unlikeable female heroines. But this is such a baffling iteration of her character. She comes off as a stalker in the first episodes, then she's mean and bossy yet she doesn't seem to actually plan or have good strategies (all is deferred to Percy really), then she sort of uses "the power of friendship" to resolve things but never her growing wisdom. Yes, she could be weird and caring and smart but they didn't nail any of those traits either. They striped her of any complexity. But my biggest gripe is that they didn't make Annabeth nerdy enough! Annabeth sure recalls a lot of facts during the show to look smart I suppose, but she rarely gets to problem solve or truly nerd out neurodivergent kid style, which I think is a huge missed opportunity.

An example, which might be very niche but it shows my issue with her characterization and I have to talk about it cause I'm a physics nerd (literally, it's my major), the part in the ST Louis Arch in episode 4 where she tells Percy and Grover stuff about the construction is so... basic. Like she just read it out of a tourist pamphlet or something. She just says how tall and wide the arch is and that it's symmetrical. That's it. Right...

Why didn't she mention what type of arch it is?? (A catenary arch, more specifically one that follows a weighted catenary curve. It isn't just held by "symmetry" it's tension! It's cool math!) Maybe she even mentions that it's a hyperbolic function and Percy and Grover can be like omg what are you even talking about, and she keeps going on and on about calculus and architecture, like a neurodivergent kid would about their interests. I mean, sure she's like 12, but she's supposed to be like a gifted kid, daughter of Athena, right? She probably knows some of the science and engineering behind the arch. Missed opportunity. Or maybe it's just that I see so much of myself in Annabeth and it hits too close when they can't make her justice. Idk. Like having a true nerdy, brilliant, neurodivergent, bossy but caring, black Annabeth would have been amazing. I guess the world wasn't ready for that.

This was episode 4 and the episodes are NOT getting better...

Also, Annabeth and Percy get sincere with each other really quickly after like 1 day of knowing each other, no layered storytelling or emotional reactions to them baring their deepest fears and darkest backstories either. (Poor kids are doing their best with mediocre adaptation, though Walker is carrying the show at this point, tbh.)

Annabeth and Luke's relationship also suffers a lot from telling and no showing. Why don't we have flashbacks?? Such a missed opportunity for a show. As a rule, showing isn't superior to telling, but these two techniques need to be balanced in the writing, they can be combined too to serve the story during a specific scene or passage. In this case, telling was the wrong way.

For Luke, if they want his arc to have the emotional hit it has in the book, they really needed to build his character more and give him more screen time! Which could have been done with flashbacks. Because with Annabeth's stoic acting, too, we don't really get the emotional reactions appropriate to the events she recounts. So how are we going to feel with the betrayal since the relationship hasn't been built strongly so far? Nothing. We'll feel nothing.

Annabeth's actress is doing her best with what she's given she portrays her like she's in a Disney Channel kids sitcom from the 90s, deadpan but snarky, which is not a flavour of acting that helps this adaptation. This might be a larger directing issue, though, because Percy barely reacts when he sees his mother "die" in front of him.

Anyway, Flashbacks and narration could have saved this series alone, tbh. We don't even know how Thalia looks like! How are we gonna know it's her at the end of the book with the fleece reveal??

Ok, disclaimer, I didn't finish the show. I got distracted and bored and couldn't be bothered. I think I stopped after the Underworld episode (episode 7 I think.) I couldn't be bothered to watch the finale even with Toby Stephens in it. That's how enthusiastic I am about this.

Also a bit of a nitpick but why isn't it explained why are Percy and Sally are stuck with Gabe in the first place? About his scent? Why is the abuse so... sanitized too? Like yeah, we could have a more psychological and verbal form of abuse situation, of course, but we also didn't get that? Gabe was just unpleasant and a bit of a jerk, pathetic, but that was basically all. Also, no explanation for the blue food?? When it's such insight into Percy's relationship with his mom?? So much EXPOSITION in this series yet they missed many of the important parts!

Disney watered down Sally too. They really did. Her makeup is nice though.

So... yeah, they could be doing so much more with all the characters.

Concluding thoughts:

I don't hate the show (the visuals are great and Walker Scobell's acting is amazing, such a young talent!), but every time I finish watching an episode, I'm just bored and underwhelmed and wished I had done something else with my time.

I know it's frustrating that in previous decades usually had 20+ episodes, plus season 1 and 2 being shot side by side so we didn't even have to wait and fear of cancellation after so little; shows really don't have to be perfect from season 1, they need room to grow, but they have to have SOMETHING to pull the viewer in from the beginning, to make them stay. Anything! This show is giving me nothing to work with. I do hope the show gets better in season 2, and I understand that the 8-episode-season model is a constraint for writers, but I still think it could have done much better with the resources it did have.

For example, Black Sails had an infamous first season, but then it grew to be what imo is the best show ever put to TV. And yes, it took a while for it to find its perfect footing, but it was like a delicious cake that maybe has some bad frosting but the foundation is there, it just needs polishing and a few changes. But this PJO show doesn't live up to its potential and it's just so frustrating because I wanted to love this show so much but I'm finding it difficult to think of anything that I truly loved about it other than Walker Scobell's acting and course Toby Stephens (but I already love him from his previous work so it hardly counts).

Honestly, I'm a little bit tired of discourse going around saying that critiquing a show from season 1 is not acceptable because the show hasn't finished growing and we want a second season, we don't want the criticism to affect a season 2. But this is irrelevant and that's not how media criticism works. People can get very on board with good shoes from 1 season alone. That's no excuse. There are genuinely good book adaptations out there that make changes for the better and get a good foothold from the get-go! Look at Lockwood & Co, OPLA or Anne with an E. It can totally be done. The criticisms we have are precisely because we love the books, because we wanted this adaptation to succeed, because we wanted to love it, but it disappointed us. And we are allowed to voice that, as long as is done in good faith.

I'm happy this show got renewed because of the fans who enjoyed it, love the Percy Jackson series, it is truly dear to my heart, but would I be sad if the show was cancelled? Honestly, no. I couldn't care less what happens to this show at this point. Why should I? I was given no reason to care, aside from my already existing love for the books. I'm not intrigued about how they're going to adapt book 2, I didn't connect with the characters, I wasn't having fun. Nothing. And sure, I want young kids to be introduced to Percy Jackson, great if it's through this show, I want younger generations to love this series too, but I don't know any gen alpha who would enjoy such a show. (Hell, I really wanted my audience-age-appropriate niece to love it, but she couldn't care less about it and jeez, I wonder why...) Kids deserve better shows than this.

Will I watch season 2? Idk. Maybe? I can put it in the background while doing something else perhaps. I do hope they improve stuff but I don't have my hopes up. Will I watch episode 8? No. Life's too short. I already read the books so why bother (hehe)

[theaquamarinearchives]

[ a day in the sun ― albedo & kafka ] "happy birthday, my love. may the sun shine in the sky only for you on this day - shall we take a walk?"cw. gn!reader, fluff, modern!au, established relationships, reader wears dresses, petnames (dear, baby), just some sickly sweet fluff overall, ooc kafka

aquamarine's findings. happy birthday to my dearest little dove, @heiayen !! i hope this day proves to be fruitful and kind to you. you deserve the world !! ♡

with the sun shining bright in a seemingly endless blue sky and spring in full bloom, ALBEDO had plenty of ideas for this special day - it was just his hardest decision deciding which one to go with or even more so, creating an itinerary just for you. unfortunately for him the moment klee had found it your birthday was approaching, she begged him to let her in on the plans. you truly are adored by that small girl.

your toes sink into fine grains of sand, warm beneath your steps with two blondes at your side. one is bouncing, her small hand grasping yours as she tries to tug you along the length of the beach. in her spare hand is a melting ice lolly you wish she would pay a few seconds more attention to now that it's starting to drip down her hand.

the other blond somehow can't contain the small smile on his face as he watches the pair of you, the way you're laughing and yet still sending worried glances at klee's ice lolly. he can imagine the sticky mess that she's going to create the moment she reaches for something - or someone - with that hand later.

"klee, give them a break or you'll hurt their arm," your lover tries to reason with the excited child who - at the prospect of hurting you - quickly lets go of your hand to run ahead, squealing as she kicks up sand, "are you okay, dear? she can be overwhelming."

"how often do you bring her to the beach? she acts like she's never seen it in her life." you find yourself musing as the young girl crouches down to inspect something. your curiosity peeks, wandering to crouch with her as you tilt your head. albedo watches the pair of you in intrigue, the way you are both tilting your heads like confused puppies.

albedo refrains from attempting to defend his little sister's overexcited actions and instead peers to see what has got the two of you in awe. a pile of neatly collected seashells in an array of shapes and colours, embedded into the sand. klee gasps, a chubby finger pointed at a particular pastel purple seashell and you also let out an excited noise - albeit a little quiet.

his blue eyes soften, that small smile from earlier widening on his face as mid-length blond locks tickle his eyelashes, the sea breeze drifting through them and creating an even more messy appearance. no matter how long he's been dating you, he can't seem to stop admiring you. his eyes dance over how the breeze carries your hair and the pretty summer dress you decided to wear for today, how your jewellery compliments every aspect of your outfit... how did he get so lucky?

he almost chuckles at his thoughts, his cheeks warming considerably and he wonders if he could blame the weather should klee's keen eyes notice. the artist is undeniably in love with you, after all you're the source material of a lot of his works now. he's familiar with your every crevice and detail, familiar with painting them delicately onto his canvas.

he wouldn't change that for the world when your sparkling eyes return to him, a happy smile on his face as you hold up a seashell to him, exclaiming excitedly as you fawn over something so simple and yet so treasurable.

━

you knew very well how your girlfriend's job worked and whilst you never interfered, you wished sometimes that she could spare you a glimpse of time outside of what her boss' 'scripts' leave you with. that's not to say she was a bad partner - oh no. regardless of that slightly insufferable teasing attitude she has, the one she always brings to the table in a light-hearted manner, you knew KAFKA loved you. perhaps more than she's willing to convey with words.

kafka follows her scripts intricately, never missing a detail right up until the last second. these control her days, creating schedules upon schedules she's never faltered to argue against nor break the habit. yet she fails to tell you that in the days leading up to your birthday, she'd been very much planning to do just that.

"you look beautiful," she chimes when you enter the lounge, pausing in your steps when your eyes meet hers. she quirks a brow, amused by the way your eyes widen in surprise, "what is it, baby?"

you squint, hesitant to approach your girlfriend - what did she have in mind? what was going on? usually at this hour, the shared house you live in together was filled with the melodic sounds of kafka's classical music and in turn, her own violin. slowly, your confusion regarding the silence of the house settles in as to why your girlfriend was here and not in her study.

"did you forget your own birthday?" kafka raises to her feet, shaking her head as a light laugh escapes her lips, "oh dear, we can't be having that - definitely not today."

the woman saunters closer to you, slim hands drifting over the curves of your body in that sundress as she smiles coyly, eyes glinting in the reflection of the sun through the open window. there was never any telling what your girlfriend had planned, with the woman being exceptional at keeping her schemes concealed and hidden safely in her mind. oh, how you'd pay to be inside her mind for a mere day.

"of course i didn't," you pout, awkwardly avoiding her gaze as she presses her forehead to yours. her hands settle on your hips, a hum coming from her chest as she examines your behaviour, "you're not-"

"in my study?" she cuts you off, finishing off your thoughts as your eyes snap up to meet hers again. they're glittering, filled with mirth and amusement as her fingers tap at your hips, shaking her head before she presses a soft kiss to your lips. it's demanding despite how soft it is, her grip on your waist tightening if only for a few seconds.

when you pull away for a moment of air, kafka hums yet again and straightens up, taking hold of your hand in her gloved one. the feel of leather sends a shiver down your spine, contrasting to the cared-for hands beneath them. the ones you knew were very much soft, gentle, smooth - and they knew your body equally as much, every inch and fibre of your being.

"the sun's out and i intend to spend this day in it - with you so come on. we're going on a walk and later you can choose dinner. today, elio's scripts are off the table."

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© theaquamarinearchives 2024 ; reblogs appreciated. do not re-upload, translate, etc. my works on any platforms or feed any of my works to ai.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/5/2024

i am going to do my absolute fucking best to stay off the internet today. also the next time i write one of these i will be goddamn thirty. yeesh.

listening

it took three hours to make a normally brisk 50-minute trip back from the airport on sunday bc there were simply so many accidents. my phone wasn't charging, i was kind of locked into the one way i actually knew how to get home, it was pouring, and the only radio station that was reliably coming through was the local dad rock station.

i don't think i've ever actually heard this song all the way through before! i have of course heard the chorus in eight billion advertisements and trailers etc, but i tuned in right at the lyrics

I was a willow last night in my dream I bent down over a clear running stream Sang you the song that I heard up above And you kept me alive with your sweet flowing love

big ren faire lady of shallott vibes.

-

reading

witch hat atelier, the first twelve volumes that are out in english anyway. let's yoink the setup from the fan wiki.

Coco, a girl living in a small village, had been dreaming of becoming a magician since little. But people who don't know how to use magic since birth are unable to become magicians, or witness the moment magic occurs. But one day, Coco accidentally saw Qifrey, a magician that was visiting the village casting a spell. Ecstatic to finally know how magic works, she tries it immediately and transforms her mother into a stone statue. With the help of Qifrey and his disciples, Coco will embark in a magical journey to save her mother.

this gets a lot of ghibli comparisons, and i get it-- there's a lot of concern about healing scars from a near-cataclysmic magical war, lots of contraptions, bucolic countryside, loving shots of food, etc. i think there is a focus on academia and cohort-building, and how networking is a profession all to itself, that we do not generally see in ghibli films. i think the comp pull should go beyond the aesthetics, as well, but ghibli is still a good comp-- the world of witch hat atelier is dangerous and can hurt or kill you, but it treats the reader's heart with the same care a ghibli movie will. things may not be happily ever after or go perfectly at all times, but there are no twists for the sake of twists, and it doesn't sneer or make fun of you for caring about a character. there are no whedonesque "well THAT happened!" moments. these characters are going to learn and grow and you will learn and grow along with them goddamnit. it is queer but incidentally queer. the folx side of the fags-folx spectrum will feel very welcome here but this is not a tenderqueer kind of gay book. characters are incidentally gay because of course they are, that's just how the world works, look at all the fullness of human expression you can encounter in your one short life, why NOT be gay

i did not expect this series to kickstart a fresh wave of grief for my own academic experience. coco leans on her cohort so much and they truly do work together to solve problems and come up with good solutions and i wish i had had that kind of astronomy experience. it's kind of cold comfort that i don't know and have never heard of a woman having a good astronomy experience.

witch hat atelier: very fun to sink into the details on a page (Kamome Shirahama knows how functional but pretty clothes work), endlessly charming veneer on a very taut game of political ethics happening in the grownups' background

-

watching

happy noirvember!!!

Another Man's Poison (1952, dir. Rapper) courtesy of Kanopy's little revolving carousel of new noir films.

An English mystery writer (Bette Davis) kills her husband, then tries to kill a man (Gary Merrill) posing as her husband.

In his review in New Statesman and Nation, Frank Hauser wrote "No one has ever accused Bette Davis of failing to rise to a good script; what this film shows is how far she can go to meet a bad one."

a plot that could only happen in a country where appearances are everything. i must agree with mr hauser and most of the critics of the time who said Huh???? to the script and basic premise. AND the ending is a little too pat. a breakneck ninety minutes filmed in three months where its stage play bones show. however i really like Bette Davis and it's so much fun to watch Bette Davis pace around an English manor house like a caged tiger.

-

playing

fallow week, i am having a consistent problem with the now five year old gaming rig overheating and once i solve that issue i am very excited to play Red Dead Redemption the original (thank you again @pasta-pardner !)

-

making

deep cleaned my entire house. drove three hundred miles this weekend to pick up my sister and her friend from the airport, go to the ren faire, come back from the ren faire, and take them back to the airport. houston delivered to me some of the worst fucking driving experiences i have ever had here. really upsetting torrential downpour for nearly an hour on a road with no shoulder to speak of.

the actual ren faire was fun! i did not realize how vital a chair or bench with a fucking back was to my rest and recovery. it was nice to go with fellow adults and not help wrangle several small children, as fun as a kid-friendly experience can be. got my overpriced gyro for the year. got my bootleg anime merch for the year. wish it hadn't rained but i feel very smug for packing enough umbrellas and ponchos.

[thejakeslayla]

I have a script idea in my mind, but if you don't want to, you can of course not write it.

I had a fight with Jake this morning and i got angry and went to the club with my friend to drink. The end of the night, i was so drunk, my friend called my bf Jake, and asked him to pick me up. Then while Jake is trying to drive me home we start arguing about why I went to the club and why get so drunk. Later, when he sees that we are really bad-drunk, he worries about me and takes good care of me.

I'm sorry if it's too much, you don't have to write it. I hope it didn't sound like an order. I dont want to be misunderstood. :(

╰─▸❝ going through hard time in your relationship with jake ❞

idol!jake x gn! reader ୨୧ genre angst, fluff at the ending ୨୧ warnings profanity, alcohol, neglect of relationship and a dog, arguments, kissing, sfw intimacy (jake helping reader change) ୨୧ wc 3k

you woke up unusually early today. your boss had called you two days ago and requested that you come in earlier due to the recent workload at your company. you agreed to the request, and the night before, as you prepared to wake up early, you asked jake to walk layla, your adorable border collie puppy.

as you left the bed, jake sensed the absence of your warmth and presence. he shifted in bed as you gathered your things from the desk. glancing in his direction, you greeted him with a smile, taking note of how he was presently rubbing his sleepy eyes. he appeared incredibly endearing, with disheveled hair and a groggy expression on his face.

"where are you going, angel?" he asked, his morning voice, with its deep and soothing timbre, melting your heart. you packed everything into your bag and approached the bed. you playfully tousled his blond locks and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"i'm going to work, baby. don't forget to take layla for a walk, okay?" you reminded him, thinking that he might still be half-asleep and not thinking clearly. as you began to move away, jake grabbed your wrist, preventing you from getting too far.

"what? I have morning practice today, i can't," he said, and you looked at him, realizing he was fully awake now and understanding the situation.

"jake, I told you yesterday right after you got home. do you even listen to me when i talk to you?"

you understood that your boyfriend had a busy schedule, but lately, it felt like he wasn't fully present when you spoke to him. he used to pay attention to even the smallest details of your conversations, but recently, he seemed to forget the topics altogether. when the first week passed, you attributed it to him being overworked, as it had happened before, but now it had been weeks.

he didn’t have time for you, which you at some point got used to, you understood, it was his job. but layla was his puppy, he was the one to grow up with her and you just came into his life, when layla was already there. at the very least, he should be able to spare some time for her, a single walk wouldn't hurt him. 

you sighed, your expression becoming more irritated. he remained silent for a while, and when he finally responded, you couldn't help but explode in anger.

“y/n, i can’t. just walk her today, please.” 

he had the audacity to ask you to walk her, even though you did it every day. it's not like you didn't enjoy it; in fact, you loved it. but you weren't the rightful owner of layla. sometimes it felt that way, as you were the one feeding her, playing with her, taking her to the vet, and walking her.

“jake, literally what the fuck is wrong with you?” you exclaimed, unable to contain the anger that had been building up over the weeks.“are you aware that layla is also your fucking dog? i moved in with you, and yes, i agreed to take care of her too because i treat her like my own, even though she isn't.” 

“i get that and i truly understand that you’re too busy to spend time with me, but she’s a fucking dog!I can't explain to her that her dad is a neglectful owner who's too busy with work to even walk her when i'm busy!” you shouted. “you're not the only one with a job here. i've had to leave early numerous times to take care of her or handle things for you because you were too busy.” 

“show her that you love her at least! you already don’t show me that, so do it for her!” 

with those words, you left, slamming the bedroom door behind you. your whole day was now ruined. you despised how jake had been treating you and your precious "puppy daughter" lately. you noticed how layla always waited by the front door, ignoring your calls when it was bedtime, falling asleep on the doormat rather than in your bed right behind you. she was always near you, ready to comfort you when you cried because of jake's absence. she missed him as much as you did, but she was a puppy who wouldn't understand why jake wasn't home.

you said goodbye to hear, promising her that you'd be back soon. leaving the house, you felt a heavy weight pressing down on you with each step. a knot of anxiety and unbearable sadness twisted in your stomach.

on the other side, jake remained in bed, utterly shocked by your words. when he realized that he should probably apologize and agree with you, that he had been a terrible owner to layla and an awful boyfriend to you, it was already too late. you had left.

he looked at layla, who appeared clearly clueless, wagging her tail as she noticed that jake was awake. he patted the mattress, inviting her up.

as you arrived at the office, your coworker and best friend of several years instantly picked up on your bad mood. she didn't press you for details, knowing that you would open up during lunch. 

and it did happen. as you took another bite of your rice, she sat down next to you, and it took only a few minutes for you to vent and share the morning's argument with jake 

"i just don't understand. it's not like i don't enjoy taking care of layla, but it feels like he's changed. we used to take walks with her together, play with her together, and—" you sighed, toying with your food as your mind filled with memories of you and jake spending time together.

"i absolutely adore her. it really feels like she's just my dog, like she's not jake's dog anymore. but he told me when i moved in that she's our dog now, that we'd both take care of her." 

"i don't know anymore. i just want to get absolutely wasted tonight," you concluded, looking at your best friend.

"well, you could say that you three are like a family now. it says a lot about jake if he's treating layla and you like that. i don't even want to imagine if layla were a human, not a dog." 

and you thought about it. jake wouldn't treat his own human daughter like this, would he?

you didn't even realize when the scenery changed, and you found yourself in a nearby club, sipping on your second, or maybe third, drink. you were ready to order another one when your friend stopped you.

"remember that you're lightheaded, okay? i don't want you to end up sick from another drink." you could tell she was concerned, but you paid her no attention. your goal for the night was to forget all your problems.

after about two more drinks, you danced for a solid hour, immersing yourself in the crowd, engaging in small talk, and meeting new people. one drink too many, and your head landed on the table. everything was spinning, and your stomach felt uneasy. you tried to calm yourself with deep breaths, you weren’t ready to go home, you didn’t want to see jake just yet.

as you closed your eyes to rest, you immediately regretted it as everything spun even faster.

"y/n, you don't look well. i think that's enough for you," your best friend's soft voice whispered near your ear. 

"maybe you should pick up the phone and ask jake to come get you?" she asked. you had been ignoring jake's calls since you finished your first drink. it was even later now, and your phone showed 23 missed calls and 31 messages.

"he's probably worried about you, y/n. you should at least text him that you're okay."

and as she said that, your phone rang again. you weren't quick enough, as your best friend picked up the phone.

"hi, umm... i work with y/n. she's okay, yes. she's safe, but... well, she's drunk. i told her to call you, but she keeps saying she doesn't want to talk to you. i'll message you the address. please come get her."

and just like that, almost ten minutes later, you heard his voice. god, how much you hated his beautiful voice right now. 

"y/n! princess, my dear," you heard him getting closer. he wrapped his arm around your waist as he sat next to you. "why didn't you tell me you were going clubbing?"

"leave me alone, jaeyun. i don't want to talk to you," you mumbled, trying to move away, but he was simply too strong.

"it's okay. let's just go home and talk, okay?" 

you couldn't resist his firm grasp, and he easily guided you into the car. with all the movement, your stomach churned, and you had to fight the urge to throw up. as you got into the car, jake handed you a bottle of water and fastened your seatbelt, but he didn't start the car yet.

"can we talk?" he asked, his voice gentle and quiet.

“there's nothing to talk about. just drive me home," you replied, ignoring his extended hand holding the water bottle.

“y/n–“ 

"there's nothing to talk about!" you shouted, frustrated and intoxicated enough to raise your voice. 

“can you at least fucking listen to me?” he also raised his voice, trying to be heard over you. 

“listen, i know i fucked up. i walked layla this morning, i left work early, and i spent time with her. i understand how you felt, and—“ 

“you don’t understand shit.” you spat out. “you have no idea how much you've hurt me.” 

“but layla is fine–“ 

"it's not about layla! for weeks, i've been wondering why you're avoiding me, because that's how it feels. you're only home to sleep and, sometimes maybe eat, when you feel like acknowledging your girlfriend. but oh, sorry, you don't even listen to her!" you cut him off, too angry to hold back, the alcohol removing any filter.

"i really don't get what changed. i don't understand what i did to deserve this treatment. but if this is what our relationship is going to look like, i don't want to be in it." 

jake’s eyes widened, shocked that you could actually break up with him. you – the love of his life, his princess, his angel, his everything. e was one hundred percent sure he couldn't live without you. his source of happiness, you were his source of happiness. he grabbed your wrist, gently squeezing it. 

“y/n, don’t say that.” he finally spoke, and you finally realised how hurt he was, the sadness in his voice evident.

“drive me home.” 

and he did. he helped you out of the car, and you clung to him as if your life depended on it. he guided you to the bed and left you there to change, going to fetch water, a bowl in case you needed to vomit, and some medicine to prevent a hangover the next day.

as he returned to the bedroom, you were lying on the bed, still in your clothes, wrapped in a blanket.

"hey, angel. here, drink some water, okay?" he said softly, brushing the hair from your face. he helped you take a few sips, but you ended up chugging the entire glass.

"let me help you, okay?" he said, helping you sit up. he handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of your pajama pants. he sighed when he turned around to you and you were laying down again. after yet again, forcing you to sit up, he grabbed the end of your blouse. 

“may i?” he asked and when you nodded, the cold air attacked your warm skin. you groaned at the feeling. “here, here. one second, princess.” he said, noticing your reaction. he helped you put on the t-shirt and quickly moved to your pants. you accidentally kicked him a couple of times as he tried to remove your clothes, but it wasn't hard enough to hurt him.

once you were changed, he wrapped the blanket around you. then he left the bedroom again, returning with another glass of water. as he set it down, he noticed you had already fallen into a deep sleep, your cheek pressed against the pillow as you hugged a plushie.

he remembered the day he had won that plushie for you. you had joked that it was a miniature version of him, as it was a golden retriever plushie. secretly, he had sprayed it with his perfume every time he had to leave for a tour, leaving you with it to cuddle at night. 

he adored the way you looked when you slept, your face so relaxed, your body rising and falling with your steady breathing. you appeared innocent and pure. he couldn't resist himself, and despite the strong smell of alcohol on you, he placed a kiss on your forehead and then your cheek.

his hand almost unconsciously moved to your head, softly stroking your hair as he sat beside you.

"i'm so sorry, angel," he whispered, still admiring your face. "i should've known better. i should've realized you were hurting."

"i love you so much. if i could, i would go back in time and fix everything. spend more time with you, appreciate you more, and show you just how much i really love you."

if only jake knew that you weren't asleep, that the moment he had touched your head, you had awakened. you couldn't help but feel sad, heartbroken even, as you heard his words. 

"i'm so sorry for being a bad boyfriend, a bad dog owner, and just... overall a bad person. i got so caught up in my work that i forgot i also needed to take care of you. you're way more important than work. you're the love of my life, the person i want to spend my future with. i have so many plans that involve you, my angel."

"jake..." you whispered, slowly opening your eyes.

he withdrew his hand, realizing that you had heard everything he had just confessed. instead of saying anything else, you opened your arms, inviting him into a hug 

"i love you," you said, as he wrapped his arms around you.

"i love you so much, y/n. i'm really sorry. i'll spend more time with you, i promise. i'll be better," he spoke softly, right next to your ear, then pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"it's okay, jake. i understand. it's your job, and you have to be there most of the time. i just wish you were home more often."

"i will, i promise you that, love."

in the following days, jake made a sincere effort to keep his promise of spending more time with you. he adjusted his work schedule to free up some evenings and weekends, ensuring that he had quality time to devote to both you and layla.

one sunny saturday morning, jake surprised you with a homemade breakfast in bed. it wasn’t perfect, the toast slightly burnt and your coffee had too much sugar, but it just made the whole gesture more adorable. he'd even prepared layla's favorite treats, and the three of you enjoyed a cozy meal together. it was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you.

as the weeks passed, you noticed a positive change in jake's behavior. he was more present, attentive, and genuinely engaged in your conversations. he made an effort to plan special outings and romantic date nights, just like when you first started dating. it was as if he had rediscovered the magic of your relationship.

your bond with layla also strengthened during this time. you both took her on long walks in the park, played fetch and each day jake sent you at least one article on how to take better care of your dog. it was clear that he was determined to be the best dog dad he could be.

one evening, as you and jake cuddled on the couch watching a movie, he turned to you with a heartfelt expression. "y/n, i can't thank you enough for helping me realize what truly matters. i was so consumed by my work that i lost sight of the most important things in my life—you and layla."

tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand, your fingers interlocking with his. the emotions swelled within you, and you felt a profound connection to the man beside you. "jake," you began, your voice filled with sincerity, "we all make mistakes. what matters is that we learn from them and grow stronger together. i love you, and i'm so glad to see the changes you've made."

jake leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. the affectionate gesture sent a warm shiver down your spine, and you nestled even closer to him, finding comfort in his embrace. as the movie continued to play, all while their loyal four-legged companion, layla, lay at your feet, contentedly dozing off, feeling the warmth of her family surrounding her.

as time went on, the two of you learned that love wasn't just about saying "i love you." it was about showing that love through actions, and jake had proven that he was willing to do whatever it took to make your relationship stronger.

. . . . . -ˋˏ ✎ author's note! oh my!! i enjoyed writing this one so much, thank you for requesting with so much details, it was easier to understand your request and write what you actually wanted! hope you enjoyed ♡ requests: open © 2023 — all rights reserved to user thejakeslayla, please do not steal, plagiarise or translate any of my work !