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oceantornadoo · 2 days ago

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ch11 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: a little piss bc reader is refused a toilet. some light torture scenes and violence.

“Where. Is. She.” Ghost slams John against the wall, his forearm to John’s throat. The man’s snarling, an unrestrained beast in a mask. The world zeroes in on the gaze between them, the terrible acceptance that they have a shared weakness. A shared weakness who is gone, potentially dead. All they can do is beat the rotted carcass of this feeling until it breaks.

Thirty minutes earlier

For the past two hours, there’s been something vibrating under John’s skin. It was there when he pulled Gaz by his collar in the store, searching the man’s eyes for deceit. It was there when he eventually let him down, satisfied with the steel reflecting back at him. It was there when someone handed him his wife’s phone, the screen filled with unread text messages from him asking to get dinner and talk it all out. It followed him all the way to the Castle.

Gaz relocates them quickly, saying he has more devices back at home. John’s home, your home, your shared home. The whole car ride John’s knee shakes up and down, nervous energy permeating the air. All he does is replay your last conversation over and over.

“I am trapped, John.”

“No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage.”

“I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity.”

“I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.”

The words swarm through his head like wasps, picking at the insecurities he hides everyday. The worries that you wouldn’t pick him in a normal world, that this has been pillowtalk to pass the days. If you love something you’re supposed to let it go, but he can’t decide between being noble and hoarding you until you forget what life was like before captivity. And of course, all of these thoughts assume you’re alive. He hasn’t let himself consider the full possibility that Shepherd has hurt you in ways that would defile your mind and your body, never leaving you whole again. It all coalesces into an evil energy, vibrating under his skin as the London streets roll by outside the car.

Gaz leads John into the security room with words not meant for him. Murmurs to the house staff, directions ordered over ear pieces. They blur and buzz in John’s eardrums, these damn wasps becoming parasites. He’s too old to consider hunting you himself, knows that he has to trust his man, but the urge is there anyways. Thoughts of escalating into straight warfare, bombing Shepherd’s home without any care for the innocents within.

That’s what he’s thinking about when Ghost arrives, dragging in coattails of vengeance and dread.

Now

“Stand down, Ghost. This ain’t helpin’.” He croaks out against the pressure in his throat. Ghost’s eyes flare, soulless black pits that see too much. They search John’s, within and around, poking and prodding at the emotions he’s been holding in for the hour since he learned his wife is gone. Whatever Ghost finds is enough, John deemed worthy not to die by the loosening of Ghost’s grip. They pant as one, wishing they had never let themself love a woman enough to destroy their dynasties for her.

The world resumes as Ghost turns away. No one mentions the threat, the way John would have let the guilt drown him if Ghost didn’t. John should have pushed harder, should’ve accompanied you to the store instead of letting you go in his shirt with a faint goodbye on your lips. Like you knew what would happen and went anyway, just to see how far his heart could stretch until it tears.

MacTavish is murmuring low calming words to Ghost, unintelligible over the hum of computers and screens. In this room, all pretense is given up, one man’s hand stroking the other’s. To have a half of a soul live outside the body is a dangerous thing, even more when attacks come from all sides. If he squints, there’s a flash of your glare in Ghost’s, the same half-tilted frown hidden by the mask. It’s like you’re haunting him, no, taunting him with the fact that he’s lost you and now he has to deal with your ghost. It’s all his fault, but he lets the pity fester inside instead of releasing it on everyone else.

“Update, Garrick?” Another croak, a near two minutes after the incident. This is why Gaz is his heir - all he does is hand John the nearest iPad without a mention as to what happened. John reads the screen fast, a list of possible abandoned warehouses near Shepherd locations. It makes sense but the timing is all wrong. He’d expected this if things had been quiet, but there was another scrap between Price men and Shepherd men last night. This kidnapping must have been calculated by someone separate, someone like Phil with a solo mission. He should’ve killed the man when he found out he was working (almost) alone with his wife.

“It’ll be somewhere symbolic. Shepherd likes to make a statement.” Garrick mentions. John hands the tablet silently to Ghost, an offering of peace. In the corner of his eye, he can see MacTavish conferring with Mare, the head of the weapons team, speaking a language only the two of them know. The man frowns, then shakes his head at something Mare says. “Dinnae work like tha’.” It travels over the distance of the room, confusing John enough that he walks over to learn what’s happening.

“Report?” Mare is a bit skittish but cool-headed in times of need, the reason he hired the first ever woman on a Price Family leadership team. He trusts her and her chemistry degrees, plus her sense of urgency. “Sir, we’ve just received word that the weapons stores have been compromised.” It’s like a pin drop, other conversations falling silent as she speaks. “Meaning?” He asks, toeing the line of impatience. “Shepherd’s men struck last night, around the same time as the street fight. We believe it was coordinated between that and the kidnapping to hide it as long as possible. They cut the WiFi, so we only found out during the shift change. All the guards were killed and the weapons taken.”

John prides himself on acting like a real corporate boss, restrained and professional. However, this is his last fucking straw. “You’re saying Shepherd took my fucking weapons, then my fucking wife? How the hell does this happen?” Ghost grunts at the word ‘wife’ but John ignores it, too focused on the situation at hand. Instead of answering, Mare’s eyes flit around the room. Since it was converted from two bedrooms, it fits up to thirty people and is currently at capacity. He can read his employee too well, and knows she’s nervous about the many ears around. While he usually trusts his people with his life, it’s been an odd day and he decides to err on the side of caution.

“Mare an’ everyone related t’ me, this way.” There’s an elevator to the upper floor in the back of the room. Ghost and MacTavish fall in line, but Garrick seems frozen and unsure. “Gaz, that includes you.” They don’t acknowledge the head nod, brushing elbows as John hits the elevator button. Once all five are in, John hits the emergency stop between floors, leaving them in purgatory. “Speak.” He instructs Mare.

“There’s a mole. It’s the only way they could have gotten in. I designed that facility myself, sir, and there’s no way they could have gotten in with the tools and soldiers they have. Unless our intel was wrong, and I don’t think it was, we have a rat.” Her words echo in the metal chamber. She meets MacTavish’s eyes and he nods in confirmation.

“Price.” Ghost grunts, his first words in a while. “It’s someone in that room. They’d hav’ to be on yer security.” John nods at his words and turns to Gaz. “How much longer to narrow down locations?” The man still seems flustered by John’s earlier words and needs a nudge to the shin to spit it out. “An hour, tops. We’re thinking of an abandoned weapons facility or church. Something about what he stole, weapons or marriage.” John grunts at the symbolism of it all. “I’m the first one there.” He demands. “Sir, I-” John turns to look his second in the eye. “I’m the first there.” Gaz nods. John turns back to Ghost and MacTavish, staring at him with twin glares of violence.

“Right, men. We got a rat t’ catch.”

“You don’t know what I’d do to find ya and keep ya.”

John’s words echo through your mind as you eye Phil, standing in the corner with a water bottle. You haven’t peed since this morning, 12 hours ago, and he knows. Taunting words sung with a Southern accent, promising a toilet in return for the weapon codes. He’s banking on your embarrassment, that you won’t want to piss yourself in this hellhole. Too bad for him you don’t like to listen to what men tell you to do.

“C’mon, sugar. Know ya got t’ go. Give me the codes an’ I got a nice lil’ bathroom for you. Even has one of those bidets.” You shake your head, refusing. Your bladder is pushing against your stomach, tension growing with every breath. It wouldn’t be too bad if he hadn’t kept feeding you water. You think you’re on bottle six now, what seemed like a blessing turned into a curse.

“Fine. Time f’ another one.” He unscrews and steps to your side, checking your handcuffs before coming near your mouth. It’s like he’s under orders not to hurt you physically. There’s been no beatings, no threat of knives or guns. He needs you alive, and you’re pretty sure you know why. The weapons require both a code and an eye scan, something you can’t fake with a dead body. Johnny created the code section and Gaz added the eye scan later, his coding skills a thing of beauty. His quick thinking is the only thing keeping you alive.

Water pours down your throat. He presses down your tongue to force you to swallow every last drop. When he leans over you, it’s like rose-colored glasses have been removed. His blond hair is limp, face sweaty with concentration. Gone is the charming assistant, bright and fun. You bet he needs you to stay alive for his own safety, his life relying on it.

As water slips into your belly, the pressure to pee goes stronger. With a dirty hand, he pushes on your stomach, and you whine in discomfort. He shouldn’t be touching you, especially in a place so sensitive. The loss of body autonomy is your biggest fear, whether it be motherhood or this. Only John would understand, you think, berating yourself for being so stupidly stubborn. That’s when you make up your mind, to still have control over the one thing you can.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re fuckin’ disgusting, you dirty bitch.” The piss soaks your jeans and, with enough force, dribbles on his shoe. Phil jumps away in disgust, eyes hardened into flint as he glares at you. “Fuck you.” You spit out. A glob of it lands near his shoe, making him jump again. You almost pity how weak he is enough to torture a woman for a living. Almost.

“You’re gonna be sorry you did that.” He bites back. Phil glances at the mirror and for the first time in hours, you let yourself feel a lick of fear. You’re pretty sure you know who his boss is, someone too violent for the games you’re playing. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” Is what you can muster. Instead of answering, he shakes off his shoe and knocks on the door. When it opens, there’s a person in full PPE, holding a metal tray with a filled syringe. You jolt back, but the chair is bolted to the ground and doesn’t allow you to move.

“Wait, please, Phil-” He’s fast, shooting something into your arm. Everything goes dark after that.

Gaz was right. It only took an hour.

But it takes longer than that to rule out each location. It’s been 24 hours, and they haven’t found you yet.

John insists on checking out every place by himself, as does Ghost. They’re even-keeled enough to split up to make it go faster but insist on Gaz scrounging up more earpieces so they can keep in constant contact. They slept in shifts too, six-hour blocks once it hit midnight, so they weren’t trudging through their search. Johnny stays back to work with the engineers on testing the security system he designed, while Gaz comes along with whoever is searching. The four of them stay on their own radio channel like a task force, acting more military than mafia.

They start from the inner city and expand outwards. It’s methodical. It’s calculated. It’s the exact strategy Gaz planned months ago when the marriage was proposed. He’s the clearest headed out of all of them but there’s still a bite to his tone, a tension in his shoulders, a furrow in his brow. If John wasn’t so out of it himself, he’d be glad that his right-hand man seems to care for his wife.

They sweep warehouses top to bottom. John tugs on every alliance he has, every favor owed. They get pledges of loyalty from smaller gangs, who do their own searches as well. It’s so much and yet not enough because John Price does not have his fucking wife in his hands. Your shampoo scent is not in his nose, your laughter is not in his ears, your waist is not in his grasp. You are gone and he is at fault for not protecting you.

“Focus, Price.” They’ve both slept and are now in their third church in the past 90 minutes. It’s abandoned like the rest of them, creaking doors and blown out windows. They’ve gotten into a rhythm now, sweeping the building efficiently. You’re not there. They finish in twenty minutes, Gaz outside on the phone with the rest of the crew. When they emerge, he stands tall at attention.

“Sir, we’ve got a hit.”

“How you feeling, hun?” The world is woozy, half-tilt on a rollercoaster. You sway from right to left, only steadying when firm hands grasp your shoulders. Your eyes flutter, vision blurring in technicolor. You’re somewhere else, with paintings on the walls and carpet on the floors. That’s when you do a body scan and realize you’re not in the clothes you were kidnapped in.

You jerk away from the man touching you. The wooden chair you’re strapped to falls to the floor and takes you with it. He tries to pick you up, moving in a blur of dark grey, but you thrash away like a fish out of water. His touch is poison, and you fear it was him who undressed you, him who saw you naked against your will. “Get away from me!” You screech, vocal cords sore from disuse. The man’s hands are gnarled crooked things, clawing at your shoulders until your chair is straight again. You try to flinch but your miniscule reactions are still slurry from whatever you were injected with. Once you’re straight, you bite back a gasp.

It’s him. The General. Shepherd.

Square face with a buzzcut. Weathered and old with a cruel gleam in his eye. He sits back down into a chair in front of yours. This one is red leather, squeaking comfortably with weight as he sits down. The man was in the army in a past life, hence the styling of The General. He wears dark slacks and an army-like jacket. The bravado of it disgusts you. A title like that should be earned, not worn like play clothes. You put on your brave face and sneer at him, a cat backed into an alley.

“I see why John likes you.” He looks you up and down like he can see through your clothes. You flinch against your will. “You don’t deserve to say his name.” You bite. He laughs jarringly. “Fucking brat is what you are. Even got Phil under your spell.” That’s news to you. It’s certainly at odds with his behavior. You don’t react, easing your features into a smooth mask.

“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t have the codes.” He stares at you dead-eyed. “Not necessary. We don’t need the codes.” He’s bluffing. You’re willing to bet your life on the hard work of Johnny and Gaz. There’s absolutely no way, no workaround. That’s when you get an idea.

“Oh yeah? You’re just going to put me in front of the eye scanner and go from there?” He frowns like you’ve figured out his plan. You almost laugh. “Too bad. You’re still missing a step.” That reels him in. Shepherd sits forward, elbows on his knees, searching your gaze for a lie. You raise your brows defiantly. “What, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out?” He squints harder at your words.

“My brother’s old school. Doesn’t trust technology, or anybody else.” It’s certainly true. Simon’s well-known for not trusting people. Even the General looks intrigued. “What are you sayin’?” He murmurs. It’s like you’re holding a prophecy in his hands. Men are so easy.

“There’s a key.” He scoffs and looks away. “And I’m Robin Hood.” You shrug, leaning back as much as you can into your chair despite the ropes tying you to it. “Believe what you want. I’m just saying, my brother has more checks than you can imagine.” Another truth to reel him in. He scratches an invisible itch on his knee, then gets up. He pulls something from his pocket, and you flinch, thinking it’s a gun. He laughs at your reaction. “Fucking brat.” He murmurs. Shepherd turns to the corner of the room and calls someone, talking in low tones.

When you examine the room, it sends a shot to your heart. You’re in a church. There’s blood red carpeting with paintings everywhere, but it’s not wellkept. There’s dust and no windows, the lighting frail. Perhaps recently abandoned?

Shepherd is back, knife in hand. He thrives on watching you flinch and thrash as he comes closer. You stop when he’s in your face, knife trailing down the length of your nose. “Where’s the key?” You answer without hesitation. “My father’s grave.” It’s the kind of sick shit Ghost would do, and Shepherd knows it. That’s when the knife slips through your ropes, freeing you. There’s a gun in his other hand pointed straight at your head. “You’ll take me to the key. And if it’s not there, so help me God, I’m blowing your brains out on your father’s grave.” You nod, short and shallow.

It’s only halfway up the dilapidated wooden stairs when you hear it. Pounding footsteps and a low British tone. Shepherd was stupid enough to trail behind you, and even stupider to stop at the noises as well. That’s when your years of self-defense classes with Johnny kick in, quite literally.

You aim a kick to his head. He dodges, of course, but all that body mass has to go somewhere, and quite slowly. It knocks him off balance, a half-step down, giving you enough leverage to elbow the nose. One of the most sensitive places on a man, as Johnny told you. The door above you opens as Shepherd gets one more insult in as he goes down.

“Fuckin’ bastard.”

Yes i was thinking of the 21 savage song snitches and rats

Also sorry for comparing motherhood to torture i just really needed to justify reader peeing LOL

Oops shes a girlboss SORRYYYYYY

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boxoftheskyking · 14 hours ago

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Might I give some advice:

Not everyone has (or needs to have) the energy to thoughtfully respond to republicans on the Internet. You do not have to do that.

But some people do, and can. And I think we gotta let them.

An example:

I have a former teacher, I'll call her Grace, who is an incredibly kind woman in her 70s. Devout catholic, had voted for various parties over the years, but has been pretty strictly democrat over the past 15-20 because that aligns with her values of kindness and service.

She shared a post about the pope's recent letter and expressed that she agreed with his concerns about how trump is treating immigrants. A friend of hers commented a long paragraph basically saying "dear Grace I care for you but I don't understand how you can be a Christian and a democrat. Blah blah abortion blah blah gender blah blah drugs."

Grace replied "I'm very busy right now but I am going to respond to you soon with my thoughts". When she did it was an incredibly generous, rational monologue that connected with this person's humanity, their shared religious values, and made a beautiful case for why she supports who she does. I didn't agree with a good half of what she said as I am not a Christian, but the result was an expression of values that I think put her on the side of justice and compassion.

The person replied and thanked her and said she had a lot to think about. It was probably the best case scenario for a Facebook politics conversation

You know what came very close to ruining it? A bunch of (mostly younger) people piling on with "fuck you you racist maga pos" and "no one has to explain anything to you, go to hell" etc etc. Even after Grace wrote that she intended to reply herself.

I watched this republican respond to all the easy, quick insults by saying "this is why I don't think any democrats can be Christian, this is how you all speak to me." If Grace hadn't put so much work into writing her response in a way that was tailored to fit this person, I would not be surprised if that person left Facebook doubly certain that Christian nationalism is the way to go.

I'm not saying we can't cuss out jackasses. I'm not saying everyone needs to respond to bad faith arguments like Grace did or use their time like she did.

But this was on Grace's Facebook page, and interrupted the work she already volunteered to do. Just so these individuals could feel like they "did something" and got a shot off at an enemy.

I think that's selfish and childish and unproductive. They could have said anything they wanted in their own space, but they made grace's job harder for no fuckin reason. And then "loved" her reply and said "that was beautiful Grace, thank you for sharing your thoughts"

Like... Buddies. Pals. If someone volunteers to scrub the toilet fucking let them.

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penumbra-mayhem · 2 days ago

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The Answer - Sam/Darlin’ fic

Darlin’ gives Sam their answer on whether or not they want to be a vampire.

(I hc Darlin’ with a stutter, more on that here)

—————————————————

Sam had woken in the late evening, bed empty next to him from when Darlin’ had left for a gig hours before. Having no work that night, he carried through his “morning” routine in languor, record playing, windows open, coffee brewing.

He filled the time waiting for Darlin’s return researching new places to live. The new position Gabriela had offered him paid well, but certainly less than he made now. Once he officially left the Solaire House, they’d have to downsize considerably and possibly (he shuddered at the thought) move closer to the city.

Just after 1 am, Sam heard the rumble of Darlin’s bike as they pulled up to the house. Rising from his desk, he headed to the front door to greet them. They beat him to it, rushing inside as they yanked their gloves from their hands and shucked their jacket off.

“Hey,” Sam started, his voice quickly dying in his throat, “How was…work…”

Darlin’ was fumbling with the strap of their helmet, a weak whine leaking from their throat as they struggled. Sam closed the distance between them and grasped their hands, drawing them away from the strap and replacing them with his own.

He unclasped it and slid the helmet off, taking care to not catch it on any of their piercings, before placing it on the coat rack.

Sam could feel Darlin’s core whirring. “Rough gig?” he asked, wincing when Darlin’ actively avoided his gaze.

They gave a half-shrug, their voice feeble, “Something l-l-l-like tha-that.”

Then they were retreating towards the door, muttering before Sam could speak, “I-I-I’m going for-for a run.”

—————————————————

The next few hours were…tense. Sam tried to keep up the house hunt, but found himself staring at an empty search bar until his eyes were strained and his head was buzzing.

He finished his coffee, refilled his mug, then downed it again. He cranked the volume up on his record player and kept the front door open so he could hear the music from the porch.

Nothing could calm his nerves. Not the music. Not the crickets and frogs. Not even the coffee. He sat on the top porch step, resigned to wait for Darlin’, unable to focus on anything else until he knew they were okay.

—————————————————

Sam could smell them before he could see them; the wind carried their sharp, smoky scent through the trees. That alone helped to ease his anxiety a bit.

Soon after, Darlin’ stalked out of the surrounding forest, still in their shifted form. Tongue hanging from their open jaw, their breath came out in heavy pants as they made their way to the house.

He said nothing as they approached. Instead, he placed his mug down beside him and scanned their body from afar for any injuries they might have sustained on their run.

Claws clicked against wood as Darlin’ climbed the porch steps and heaved their head onto Sam’s lap. His hands untangled the wind from their fur with delicate fingers and careful strokes; the two stayed that way for a long time before Darlin’ shifted back.

They kept their head in Sam’s lap. They didn’t move at all.

Sam was about to break the silence when they finally found their voice.

“I-I can’t d-do it-it.”

Sam’s hands only halted in their hair for a moment before continuing. After they didn’t elaborate, he asked, “Do what?”

Darlin’ didn’t respond. Tracing his fingertips down their left arm, he brought their clenched fist to his lips before asking again, “Darlin’, what can’t you do?”

Darlin’ slowly pulled their hand out of Sam’s grasp, then raised their head from his lap. Making themself into a ball on the step, they continued to avoid Sam’s gaze, looking down at the steps before them instead. They took a trembling breath.

Then it came out, all at once, their voice thick with guilt:

“I-I’ve b-b-b-been thinking since y-you asked mmmme—and-and then t-t-t-today sssomeone mmmade a-a joke at-at wwwork about mmme t-turning. They d-didn’t even knnnnow you asked b-but it-it just…I…I-I can’t t-t-turn. I’m sorry.”

Sam’s stomach turned.

“It’s nnnot b-b-because I-I don’t wwwant t-to b-be wwwwith you. I-I p-p-promise. I’ve just wwworked so-so hard to get wwwwwhere I-I am wwwith the p-pack and wwwith mmmy own wwwwolf, and I-I don’t wwwant to l-lose that—b-but I-I don’t wwwant to l-lose you either…I-I’m ssso sorry.”

There it was again, that apology. It made Sam’s stomach sour.

Darlin’ looked scared shitless. They stayed completely still as Sam scooted closer to them and wrapped his arms around their tightened frame. Even when he pulled them into his chest, even when he kissed the top of their head and ran his fingers through their hair, they didn’t move. All their movement was centered in their chest, their heart a flurry of palpitations.

“You have nothin’ to apologize for, love. Absolutely nothin’,” he promised, kissing their head once again, “I’m so glad you told me. I’m so…” He took a moment to steady himself as the tears pooling in his eyes threatened to crack his voice. “I’m so proud of you.”

Darlin’ pulled back in confusion, asking, “P-Proud?” They blanched at the sight of Sam’s glassy eyes. “Y-You’re crying.”

“Happy tears, darlin’,” he assured them as said tears began to slide down his cheeks. Despite the fear and uncertainty of how Sam really felt lodged in their chest, Darlin’ couldn’t help but reach out to brush the tears away. Sam leaned into their touch instinctively, pressing his cheek and then his lips into their palm.

“I’m proud that you told me,” he explained, his voice muffled by their hand. As he moved closer, they dropped their hand. Sam let them, holding their gaze whenever their flitting eyes met his.

“I know that must have been scary—terrifyin’, really, if it felt anythin’ like it did for me when I asked you about turnin’. So yes, I’m proud that you told me.”

He grasped Darlin’s hands. As more tears appeared, their paths were pulled into the lines of his beaming smile. “I’m proud that you made the choice you wanted, not what you thought I wanted. And I’m so happy you get to make that choice. That you get to decide whether you turn or not. That’s why I asked in the first place. To let you know that it was your decision. No one else’s.”

“You’re nnnot disap-p-pointed?”

Sam pulled them into his arms once more, kissing their lips before answering, “Never. I’m not disappointed. I don’t feel betrayed. There is only pride and love in my heart for you.”

“I-I’m gonna grow old,” they admitted, their arms tight around his torso.

“Yes. And what a beautiful thing.”

“…b-but you wwwon’t.”

Sam frowned. “Maybe not physically. But in spirit? In the ways that matter? We’ll grow old together.”

Darlin’ kissed his shoulder before pulling their head back and meeting Sam’s gaze, a delicate smile on their lips.

“I-I’d l-l-like that.”

#i needed to write this before Erik makes the video with Darlin’s answer #i don’t know when it’ll come but i feared it would be soon #but goddamn i haven’t had any time or energy to write #too much work :(#it’s of my FIRM belief that Darlin would not turn #willingly at least >:)#but i am a little curious how that convo would go if they did choose to turn #really hope Erik doesn’t have them turn #it would feel like such an insult to darlin’s whole arc and hard work they’ve done to integrate back into the pack #we’ll just have to wait and seeeee #anyway #mayhem is brewing #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted fandom #redacted fanfic #redactedverse #redacted sam #redacted darlin

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possessedmen · 2 days ago

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Legal Affairs

The clock in the corner of Atticus's office ticked rhythmically, a sound that had long since faded into the background of his life. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where he sat, papers strewn about in an attempt to distract him from the thoughts that had been plaguing him for weeks - thoughts of William.

There was a knock at the door, soft but insistent.

"Come in," Atticus called out, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he felt.

William stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a click that seemed to echo in the quiet room. He was dressed in a sharp suit that did little to hide his youthful vigor. His eyes, however, held a mischievous glint that Atticus had come to both dread and anticipate.

"Working late, Atticus?" William asked, his voice a velvet whisper as he approached the desk, papers in hand.

"Seems like I'm not the only one," Atticus replied, his eyes following William's movements. He couldn't help but admire how the younger man's suit fit him, tailored to accentuate every curve of his body.

William leaned over the desk, placing documents down, but not before his eyes met Atticus's with an intensity that made the older man's breath hitch. "I found something incredible at this antique store," William began, his voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial tone.

Atticus raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And what might that be?"

"A book," William said, pulling an old, leather-bound volume from his bag. "It talks about ancient rituals, including one for body swapping. Imagine, Atticus, getting a taste of youth again with my body."

Atticus's interest was piqued, but he kept his tone skeptical. "Body swapping? You can't be serious."

"I am," William insisted, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Have you ever thought about what it would feel like to... make out with your own body? To see yourself through someone else's eyes?"

The suggestion sent an unexpected thrill through Atticus. He tried to dismiss it, but the idea was too tantalizing to ignore. "And how exactly does this work?"

William moved around the desk, standing closer, now behind Atticus, his breath warm against Atticus's neck as they started kissing, William's hand roaming over Atticus' chest. "I want to experience what it's like to be the boss." He then whispered, "We need something personal from each other. Something intimate."

Atticus nodded, reaching into his desk drawer to pull out a tie he often wore. William, in turn, unbuttoned his shirt slightly, revealing a silver necklace. "This should do."

They moved to the center of the office, where William had already set up candles. He opened the book, its pages yellowed with age, and began reading from it, his voice a low chant. The air seemed to thicken around them, charged with an energy Atticus could feel against his skin.

As William finished the incantation, a sudden dizziness overtook them both. When Atticus opened his eyes, the world looked different — taller, somehow, and the mirror across the room reflected not his own seasoned face but William's youthful one.

"Atticus?" William's voice came from Atticus's own body, sounding bewildered yet thrilled.

"This is... incredible," Atticus said, touching his new, younger face, feeling the smooth skin under his fingertips.

William moved closer, his eyes wide with wonder as he touched Atticus's face, now his own. "We did it."

The exploration began, each touch a discovery.

"Now, you're the young associate," Atticus said, his voice now William's, vibrant and eager. He pushed William, now in his own mature body, against the desk, roleplaying the power dynamic. "Show me how you'd impress your senior partner."

William, in Atticus's body, played along, his hands fumbling with the unfamiliar buttons of the suit, his touch more deliberate, mimicking the authority he now embodied. "I'd start by showing you how much I've learned from you," he said, his voice deeper, commanding.

They explored each other slowly, Atticus marveling at how his own body felt under his hands, the hard muscles, the slight sag of age replaced by youthful tautness. William's hands, now Atticus's, traced over the firm chest, down to the stomach, feeling the texture of skin that was now so alien yet intimately known. Each touch sent shivers through Atticus, the unfamiliar sensation of his own body's skin under his fingertips, now William's, making his breath catch.

"You're always so composed," William teased, running his fingers through Atticus's hair, now his own, feeling the thrill of control. "But how composed are you now?"

Atticus, in William's body, found himself responding as if he were William, his movements more daring, his touch more exploratory. He kissed down the neck of his own body, tasting the salt of skin, feeling the pulse quicken under his lips. He whispered, "You've always wanted to be in charge, haven't you?"

William, playing the part of the senior partner, guided Atticus's hand to his own erection, showing him how he'd pleasure himself in these stolen moments. "Learn from the best," he growled, his eyes dark with desire. Atticus felt the warmth, the weight of it, a new sensation that made him ache with desire.

They moved to the floor, the carpet rough against their skin as they switched roles again. Atticus, still in William's body, sat atop William, now mimicking the senior partner's usual demeanor, riding him with an enthusiasm that was both William's and his own. Each thrust was a lesson in sensation, the feeling of tightness around him, the heat, the friction, all new and exhilarating.

"Look at you, so eager to please," William gasped, his hands gripping Atticus's hips, now his own, with a strength that surprised them both.

Just then, the phone on the desk rang, vibrating across the wood. Will, in Atticus's body, looked at Atticus with a wicked grin, quickly picking up the call on speakerphone.

"Atticus Montgomery here," William said, his impersonation so perfect that even Atticus raised his eyebrows in surprise. He watched as Will, in his body, leaned back, chewing on a pen — a habit Atticus had, which William mimicked flawlessly.

"Atticus, it's Henry. Need to run through the latest on the case," came the voice of Will's father and Atticus's long-time friend and partner.

"Sure, Henry, go ahead," William responded smoothly, his voice carrying the authoritative tone Atticus was known for.

As Henry talked, Atticus, still in William's body, decided to push the boundaries further. He moved between William's legs, now his own, and began to work his mouth over William's cock, who was now in Atticus's body. Will's eyes widened, but he managed to keep his composure on the call, his voice steady despite the pleasure.

"Uh, yes, Henry, I've noticed some discrepancies in the client's statement," William said, his breath hitching slightly as Atticus took him deeper, his tongue swirling around the head, eliciting a soft moan that he tried to cover with a cough.

"Everything okay there, Atticus?" Henry asked, concern in his voice.

"Absolutely, just a little throat irritation," William managed, his voice steady as Atticus continued, his head bobbing rhythmically. "I think we should consider involving William more in this case. He's shown remarkable insight."

"Wait, what? Will's too green for this case, Atticus," Henry argued, his tone sharp. "We can't risk it on his inexperience."

"He's not as green as you think, Henry," William countered, his voice firm, the roleplay adding an edge to his words as Atticus continued his ministrations, his lips and tongue working in tandem. "He's been instrumental in piecing together the evidence timeline. He caught something we all missed."

"And what's that?" Henry challenged, the skepticism clear.

"He found that the witness's timeline was off by an hour, which could change the entire narrative of the event," William explained, his voice steady despite the distraction. "That's not something a 'green' lawyer would see."

Henry paused, considering. "Alright, but I'm not convinced. We'll discuss this further. Now, about the deposition..."

As Henry detailed the deposition strategy, William listened, his voice sometimes faltering with the pleasure of Atticus's skilled mouth. "Uh, yes, I think William should be there to observe. He might catch something else."

"Fine, but he's to observe only," Henry conceded reluctantly. "I want to see if he can keep up."

"Absolutely," William said, his breath hitching as Atticus took him deeper, the sensation overwhelming. "I believe in his potential. We should nurture it."

Atticus, now in the spirit of mischief, moved to Will's feet, now his own, and began to massage them, his fingers pressing into the arches, a silent promise of more to come. William's breath caught, the sensation new but intensely pleasurable.

"And Henry," William continued, his voice thick with suppressed desire, "I've been thinking... maybe William could take on some of the witness interviews. He has a good rapport with people."

Henry's voice was doubtful. "That's a lot of responsibility, Atticus. Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," ambitious William said, his voice cracking slightly as Atticus's fingers found a sensitive spot, sending a shiver up his spine. "He's ready for this step up."

"Well, if you're sure... But we'll review his performance after the first one."

"Agreed," William managed, his voice a mixture of authority and arousal as Atticus's hands continued their work, now kissing the soles of Will's feet, the act both worshipful and erotic.

Once the call ended, Atticus, still in William's body, pointed out, "You played me too well."

With a playful smirk that held a kernel of truth, he replied, "I could get used to being you."

Atticus chuckled, his hands still on William's feet, now his own, caressing them with a reverence that was both playful and sincere. "You even got the pen chewing right. But how did you know so much about the case?"

"I might have been paying more attention than you think," William said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or maybe I'm just that good at pretending to be you."

Atticus, with a laugh, leaned forward, his breath hot against William's toes as he spoke. "You're too good, Will. It's almost frightening."

William, still in character, retorted, "Frightening? No, Atticus, I think you mean 'impressive'." He wiggled his toes under Atticus's touch, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through him. "Besides, you seemed to enjoy me 'being you' quite a bit."

Atticus's cheeks flushed, the truth undeniable. "I can't argue with that," he admitted, his voice low, his hands moving up William's legs, now his own, feeling the familiar yet new contours. "But don't get too comfortable in my shoes... or my body."

William grinned, the playful banter continuing, "Oh, I think I might just enjoy this little twist of fate a bit longer. Who knows, I might even learn to tie a tie like you do."

They laughed, the sound mingling with the soft glow of the candles, their bodies still intertwined in the complexity of their swapped selves.

"Henry seemed scarily impressed," Atticus noted, his tone a mix of admiration and humor. "But are you sure you didn't put too much work on yourself? Witness interviews, depositions?"

William shrugged with a playful grin. "Maybe I did, but I think you'd like the idea of someone else doing your work for a change."

Atticus couldn't help but smile. "You got me there. I must admit, the thought of you handling some of my responsibilities while I get to sit back and keep an eye on you... it's quite appealing."

"Now where were we?" Atticus kissed William as they continued the exploration of their bodies, the boundaries of their roles blurring in Atticus' office.

#male bodyswap

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clairerosetarot · 2 days ago

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What’s your Dark Feminine Energy? PAC Tarot Reading

Decks Used:

Goddess Power Oracle & Intuition

Pile 1 ❤️

Hi Pile One,

I pulled Persephone, Aphrodite and Morrigan for your cards, and right away what I’m sensing is that this represents a powerful arc in your story that you have gone through, are going through, or will get through. This story is of a young girl, carefree and full of naive passion who then through some from of external influences and relearned her true nature and powers within herself.

You could be someone who is discerning on the inside and calm/shy/quiet on the outside. Your energy is placed perfectly and with meticulous concentration, I’m hearing. And you might not even know it yourself?

Your dark feminine energy is war-ful and lush. What I mean by that is these goddesses aren’t afraid or back down from a fight, to protect those they love most, but perhaps weren’t always depicted that way. You might be the same, and could have had to ‘fight’ to get your way through things and recognition. I also sense loads of s*xual energy here. Your darker energies can take center-stage in those moments and your current/past/or future partners love it 😊.

I also don’t know if these speaks to anyone directly but you may feel a particular heavy-heartedness towards goddesses not being worshiped in the modern era as gods are. You could have a strong tie to powerful women and this manifested within you. You are the black sheep who is okay with not painting themselves white. Love that energy!

♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Angelina Jolie, Rihanna and Bollywood actress Rekha.

Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3

——————————————————————————————————

Pile 2 ❤️

Hi Pile 2,

I pulled Hathor, Lakshmi, and Hera for you. I am getting that you come across to others as a very joyous and even a bit innocent. You could have big doe eyes that unknowingly cause people to trust in you or over share to you. However, for your dark feminine energy, while it’s not as ‘dark’ as most women. I still get that with Hera being here, you have a very rigid, Virgo-esque maturity and knowledge to you that many overlook.

People might underestimate you a lot, and assume you are just 100% bubble and maybe even an airhead on the inside because of how you look/act/seem. However, you dark energy lurks beneath the surface and might never come up and manifest itself out worldly like many other women. It could your hidden superpower that no one really sees coming or your biggest secret that thwarts your haters and knocks them off their feet 🤭.

Some advice I would give to you is to keep your dark energy hidden. Not to be “fake” per se, but don’t show everybody the depths of your soul, and let them be fooled until you pull the rug from out underneath them at the last second. I’m getting that you are someone who doesn’t think revenge is sweet but trust me girl sometimes it is necessary!! ♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Selena Gomez and Character Edwina Sharma from Bridgerton Season 2. Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3 ——————————————————————————————————Pile 3 ❤️ -

Hi Pile 3, I pulled Maat, Artemis, and Persephone for you. You have similar energies to pile 1 so perhaps you feel the need to go read that one as well. I see one big difference in your energies however and that is you have reallly big “girls-girl” vibes, to the point where you might feel disconnected from other women because you either decanter what doesn’t serve or maybe even are an outspoken woman in a place where that isn’t accepted unfortunately 🥺. Oh dear, I’m also hearing you might even be closed off from your sexuality due to trauma reasons which causes you to disconnect with other women 🥺 Please keep a safe mental space for yourself bae

I think you might even be tomboy-ish either on the inside or outside or both and could see this whole dark feminine energy thing as sexist or as a joke.

Well i’m here to tell you that for you, your dark feminine energy is much less to do with looks and all about the thinks you say. You are a real truth teller in your community/ maybe even the world. Perhaps when you were younger you believed in a lot of societal lies society sells young girls but you have awakened and are reworking your mind.

You totally march to the beat of your own drum, and many are jealous. If I could give you one piece of advice it is to be humble and never look down on other women who aren’t as “free” minded as you, it your role to either help them or move on silently as talking/thinking bad about these kinds of women is dangerous because they have evil eye/ strong karma. Hope you be safe!

♠️🦓Celebrity with your dark feminine energy: 🦓♠️ Malala and Emma Watson.

Remember to take what resonates leave what don’t and let yourself be loved. <3

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meadowfics · 3 days ago

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the lamp

kang dae-ho x f!reader

a perfect world for dae-ho and you.. right?

warnings: mentions of death, post squid game au, ptsd

everything is perfect.

you sit on the couch, cradling your newborn daughter in your arms, her tiny body warm against your chest.

byeol’s little baby hands rest on the bottle as she drinks, her eyelids fluttering every now and then as sleep tries to pull her under. she’s only two weeks old, and already she looks like dae-ho’s twin…his nose, his soft lips, even the way she furrows her brows in concentration as she drinks.

you can’t help but smile, smoothing a gentle hand over her barely-there strands of dark hair.

she has your cheeks, and your eyes, but she is dae-ho’s twin.

in front of you, in the middle of the living room, your husband is fully engaged in a very serious transaction with your three-year-old daughter, seo-ah.

the toddler’s chubby little hands press buttons on the toy register with the utmost concentration, her lips pursed like she’s handling the most important sale of her life.

“that’ll be five dollars, appa!” seo-ah exclaims, holding out her tiny hand.

dae-ho gasps dramatically, patting his pockets.

“five dollars? oh no, i think i forgot my wallet!”

seo-ah giggles, shaking her head.

“no money, no food, appa.”

you watch the interaction with pure adoration, your heart full, almost too full.

seo-ah has always been so full of joy, radiating happiness like the sun, just like her father.

she has his energy, his optimism, but she’s all yours in looks…your same eyes, your same small nose, your same round cheeks, your eyebrows. she’s a perfect mix of you both, but in personality, she is her father’s daughter.

hopeful, warm, a little bit mischievous.

“what if i pay you in kisses?”

dae-ho bargains, reaching out to tickle her sides.

seo-ah squeals, laughing so hard she tips over onto the floor, her little feet kicking in delight.

“appa, nooo! you need real money!”

you chuckle softly, shifting byeol in your arms as she finishes her bottle. the infant’s small body relaxes against you, full and content, her breathing slow and steady.

you press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling her sweet newborn scent, then look up to find dae-ho watching you.

your husband’s smile is soft, filled with something deep and unwavering. love. the kind of love that makes your stomach turn into butterflies, even after all these years.

the kind of love that has never wavered, never dimmed.

“what?” you murmur, feeling a little shy under his gaze.

he shakes his head, still smiling.

“nothing, love. ‘m just thinking about how lucky i am.”

your heart flutters.

“me too.”

before he can respond, seo-ah scrambles to her feet.

“i need more stuff for my store! appa, wait here!”

she declares, already dashing off toward her bedroom.

dae-ho salutes her playfully.

“yes, ma’am.”

you giggle, shifting your gaze around the room, taking in the home you’ve built together.

your living room is cozy, perfectly lived-in, with framed pictures of your little family lining the shelves. toys are scattered everywhere…seo-ah’s dolls, blocks, stuffed animals…but it just makes the space feel warmer, more real.

your eyes land on the blue lamp beside the television.

for a second, it looks fine.

then, something flickers.

you blink. the lamp is blurry, fuzzy, like static on an old tv screen.

you frown, confusion creeping up your spine.

that’s strange.

your chest tightens.

something feels... wrong.

you look back at dae-ho, but he’s still smiling at you, completely normal, completely real.

you swallow, trying to shake the unease creeping into your bones. maybe you’re just tired.

maybe—

then the world tilts.

the warmth, the laughter, the love…everything shatters. the edges of your vision blur, your living room dissolving like smoke in the wind.

no. no, no, no!!!

you snap awake.

the cold air bites at your skin, seeping through the thin blankets wrapped around you.

you’re not in your living room. you’re not holding byeol. you’re not hearing seo-ah’s laughter.

you’re alone.

your chest tightens, and for a second, you can’t breathe.

the reality slams into you like a freight train, like a fist to the gut, like the sharp edge of a knife twisting in your ribs.

it wasn’t real.

your family…your perfect, beautiful family…was never real.

your hands shake as you press them against your face, a sob breaking free before you can stop it. you squeeze your eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop the tears, doesn’t stop the way your heart feels like it’s splitting open, breaking into pieces you’ll never be able to put back together.

dae-ho is gone.

he sacrificed himself for you in those death games, the squid games, just so you could live.

after the failed rebellion, all he wanted to show you was that he was not a coward. he wanted to prove to himself that he was strong, something that you’ve always known that he was.

however he didn’t. he sacrificed himself in the marbles game so you could have a future. swapping the bags so he had the rocks.

this is so you could have a chance at something better, something more than what those cruel games would have left you with.

he should have been here.

he should have been with you.

you should have been the one to go.

these torturess daydreams have been in your head everyday since his death. he died in the games two years ago.

your sobs wrack through your body, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

you curl into yourself, arms wrapping around your torso like they could somehow hold you together, like they could somehow stop the unbearable ache hollowing out your chest.

you wanted that life. you wanted seo-ah, with her bright eyes and endless giggles. you wanted byeol, small and soft and perfect.

you wanted dae-ho, with his warm hands, his kind eyes, his steady love.

you’ll never have it.

you will never have that perfect family with the only man you’ll ever love.

your hands claw at the blanket, gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

its cold, 4am and its lonely. dae-ho should be here. he should be holding you, should be kissing your forehead, should be telling you that everything is okay.

it’s not okay.

it will never be okay.

you don’t know how long you cry. time loses meaning, drowning in the grief that wraps around you like a vice, suffocating, endless.

your body shakes, exhaustion weighing down on you, but sleep won’t come.

not again. not when you know the moment you close your eyes, you’ll see them. you’ll see him.

you’ll see the life you’ll never have.

eventually, the sobs fade into quiet sniffles, your body drained, eyes forced to be dry, your throat raw.

you stare at the ceiling, empty, hollow.

dae-ho wouldn’t want this for you. he wouldn’t want you to be stuck in this cycle of grief, unable to move forward.

he gave up everything so you could live, but how are you supposed to live without him?

how are you supposed to live when the best part of you is gone?

you take a shaky breath, wiping at your wet cheeks. you don’t have the answer.

maybe you never will.

I'm sorry

masterlist

#kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic #multifandom account #meadowfics #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x you

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amourtoken · 1 day ago

Note

hey so speaking of blood now all i’m thinking about is jacks feral need to mark you with it. no better way to claim you than his blood stained into your body. maybe a little spit it into your mouth heyo i am unwell bro

tw for blood/pain kinks pls don't ingest if it bugs you

if you're unwell, I'm already dead 😭 cause I love this sm

To put it simply, Jack is fucking gross. Not physically by any means, but mentally. OH he's a freak-

Bite marks, bruises and handprints only go so far yk? They're nice, he'll never get tired of seeing them on you but sometimes it's just not enough. He needs you in a way that surpasses sex and crawls into an undying primal way. He doesn't just wanna fuck you, he wants to- no. needs to become a part of you in one way or another. Since he can't physically brand his name onto your body yet, he'll find other ways to tangle his DNA up with yours.

He gets pretty rough when you fuck, but loves when you return the energy. Dig your nails into his back until you break skin, pull his hair like you want it to hurt, beg for him till your throat is so raw you can't speak. The way he drives himself into you makes you think he wants to split you down the middle and the way his fingers dig into your hips when he cums only furthers the theory. Speaking of cum, he'd rather actually be put to death than cum outside of you. Doesn't matter if it's in your mouth or pussy he's just outright refusing to finish if he's not balls deep buried in you, and anything that runs out is quickly gathered up by his fingers to be fucked back into you. You catch him mouthing off about knocking you up every time he gets close, it's almost entirely mindless chatter but it still makes your face heat up when you hear him choking out pleas begging for you to let him own you like that.

His freak rlly reaches a peak after your teeth sink into his lip a little too hard one evening. He didn't even bother pulling away from you immediately, just deepening the kiss despite the stinging feeling radiating from his bottom lip. When he does finally take a breath, the sight of your lips covered in his blood makes his cock twitch so hard he nearly cums right there. No other sight could possibly compare, he's sure, but fuck he needs to see more.

You'd end up thrown onto the mattress with your clothes strewn in random corners of the room while Jack trails his lips everywhere they can reach. The constant pressure kept the small cut from healing, leading to a pretty trail of red tracing the dips and curves of your form. It decorated you like the prettiest lingerie in the world, he couldn't get enough. Jack would work his way between your legs just to hike them onto his shoulders and bury his face in your pussy like it was the last thing he'd ever taste. He'd have you shaking and tears burning at your waterline so fast you could barely think, which helped him out when he used your fucked out state to get you to open your mouth for him.

Spitting in your mouth is nothing new by any means but the mix of his saliva, blood and the taste of your own release was absolutely new.

#Tw tag #Ask #Jack #jack hughes x reader #Jack hughes smut #This is so gross but fuck it's good yk?

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valkyriexo · 1 day ago

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When You Start Getting Distant Because You’re in a Relationship | Hyung Line

ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Headcannon, angst

ᑉ³warnings; none I think!

ᑉ³authors note; I hope you enjoy <3

╰┈➤ Chan

Tries to be the mature one, but it kills him inside. He tells himself that as long as you’re happy, he should be happy too…but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest every time you pull away.

Overthinks everything. Did he say something wrong? Did he do something to make you uncomfortable? He replays every conversation in his head, searching for a reason why you’re slipping away.

Still checks up on you, even when you don’t respond right away. Sends casual “Hope you’re doing okay” texts or reminds you to eat and rest..because no matter how much it hurts, he can’t stop caring about you.

Pretends to be fine around the others, but they can tell. He still smiles, still jokes around, but his energy is off. The sparkle in his eyes when he talks about you? Gone.

Tries to convince himself that he’s just your friend…but jealousy betrays him. Seeing you with someone else makes his stomach twist in ways he hates. He laughs it off, but deep down, he’s unraveling.

"Right. I get it." His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something almost bitter. You’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s holding back.

"You’re happy with them, huh?" He lets out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "That’s good. That’s… that’s what I wanted for you."

You open your mouth to respond, but he exhales sharply, shaking his head.

"No, actually….screw that." He suddenly looks at you, and for the first time, you see it. The frustration. The heartbreak. The feelings he’s been shoving down for who knows how long.

"I hate this," he admits, voice quieter now. "I hate watching you slip away because of some guy...do you even realize how much I care about you?"

He lets out a soft, bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I thought we had something. And maybe that was just me being stupid, maybe I was reading too much into things—but I…" He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line.

Then, barely above a whisper—

"I was supposed to be the one making you smile like that."

╰┈➤ Minho

Acts like he doesn’t care…but he definitely cares. At first, he just observes, waiting to see if you’ll come back on your own. But when you keep pulling away, he starts getting annoyed.

Gets passive-aggressive. His usual teasing turns sharper. If you cancel plans, he just shrugs and says, “Figured you’d be too busy anyway.”

Refuses to ask what’s wrong. He’s stubborn. If you want to push him away, fine. He won’t beg for your attention—but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

His eyes always give him away. Even when he plays it cool, you can see the way his gaze lingers, the way his expression darkens whenever your S/O is mentioned.

Starts distancing himself before you can fully leave him behind. If you don’t need him anymore, then maybe it’s easier if he’s the one to walk away first.

Finally snaps when he catches you avoiding him. If you won’t give him an explanation, he’ll demand one.

"So, am I just not important to you anymore?" The words hit you like a slap, and when you turn to face him, he is standing there,arms crossed, face blank, but eyes burning.

"Because that’s what it feels like," he continues, voice quieter but laced with frustration. "One second, we’re fine. And then suddenly, you’re too busy, too distant....too… gone."

You stammer, trying to explain, but he lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head.

"Yeah, whatever. You’ve got someone better now, right?"

His tone is mocking, but there’s a crack in it...just enough to betray him. Just enough to show that this isn’t just annoyance.

It’s hurt.

He turns to leave, but then

He stops. His fists clench at his sides. He doesn’t face you when he speaks next, voice barely above a whisper.

"I liked you first."

Your breath catches.

"You know that, right?" he finally looks at you, expression unreadable but eyes raw with emotion. "I’ve liked you for so long, but I waited. I waited because I thought… I thought maybe you’d see me, too."

A pause. A breath. Then—

"And now, I have to sit here and watch someone else have you?"

His voice is tight, controlled, but the pain is there. He takes a step back, shaking his head, his usual confidence gone.

"Forget it."

╰┈➤ Changbin

At first, he doesn’t take it seriously. He jokes around, playfully whining about how you’re ditching him for your “new best friend.” But when he realizes it’s not a phase, his smile starts feeling forced.

Keeps trying to reach out. Sends you funny memes, random gym updates, or voice notes just to see if you’ll respond like you used to. When you don’t? Yeah, it stings.

Overcompensates by acting louder and happier around others. He hates feeling like the sad, jealous guy, so he pretends it doesn’t bother him. But his jokes get a little sharper, his laughs a little less genuine.

Starts working out even more. If he can’t control the way you’re slipping away, at least he can control something. He pushes himself harder at the gym, but no amount of training can distract him from missing you.

Gets mad at himself for feeling jealous. He tells himself he should just be happy for you...but the thought of someone else being the reason for your smile makes his stomach churn.

"Are you serious right now?"

His voice is sharp, frustrated.

"I get it, okay? You have someone new in your life. That’s great. But does that mean I just—what? Stop existing?"

You open your mouth to explain, but he doesn’t let you.

"Do you know how stupid I’ve felt? Sitting here, waiting for you to text back, waiting for you to just—acknowledge me?" He lets out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "I’ve never had to fight this hard just to talk to you." He sighs.

"And I hate that I’m jealous." The words come out softer, but they hit harder. His jaw clenches, and for once, Changbin looks uncertain.

"I hate that I care this much. That every time you talk about them, I feel like I’m losing you a little more." He swallows hard, eyes meeting to yours.

"I wanted to be the one you looked at like that." He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

"Forget it. Just… just tell me one thing.." his voice wavers, but he keeps going, "Did I ever even have a chance?"

╰┈➤ Hyunjin

At first, he pretends it doesn’t bother him. He convinces himself you’re just busy and that things will go back to normal soon. But as days turn into weeks, the distance between you feels crushing.

Becomes unusually quiet around you. He still smiles, still laughs, but there’s a hesitation now. A pause before he speaks, like he’s choosing his words carefully...afraid of saying something he can’t take back.

Starts expressing his emotions through art instead. If you won’t talk to him, his sketchbook becomes his outlet. Page after page filled with drawings of you, his way of holding on when he feels like he’s losing you.

Acts like he’s fine, but his eyes give him away. Whenever you mention your S/O, his eyes tell you everything you need to know....sadness, frustration, something he doesn’t want you to see.

Becomes distant, too—but not because he wants to. If you don’t need him anymore, maybe it’s better if he stops clinging. But every time he tries to walk away, he finds himself waiting. Hoping.

"Just tell me what I did wrong."

His voice is quiet but firm, and when you finally look at him, Hyunjin’s expression is unreadable...except for his eyes. His eyes are full of everything.

"Because I don’t get it," he continues, laughing bitterly. "We were fine, and then suddenly, you’re too busy, like I don’t even exist to you anymore."

You shift uncomfortably, but he steps closer, shaking his head.

"You don’t even look at me the same."

His voice wavers, and for the first time, you see it..The vulnerability, the pain he’s been trying so hard to hide.

"I should be happy for you," he admits, exhaling shakily. "I tried to be happy for you." He lets out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "But every time I see you with them, I just—"

He stops himself, his lips pressing into a thin line. His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets out a slow breath, taking a step back.

"I guess that was never an option, was it?"

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lilianne-tarot · 1 day ago

Text

PICK A CARD: Which Artist Wrote Your Future Spouse? ✮⋆˙

I. II. III.

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

For personal paid tarot reading click here!

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

♬⋆.˚Pile l

Ooooh, okay, let’s get into this. You pulled The Magician, Page of Wands, and Ten of Swords—and lemme just say, this is already giving "main character energy meets redemption arc with a spicy twist". Like, your future spouse’s vibe is bold, restless, charmingly reckless at times, but also carrying some deep emotional baggage. So now, let’s spill the tea on which two singers could’ve written their essence into existence.This person has a very "put-together" look, almost effortlessly charismatic and stylish. they might look younger than their actual age or just have that playful, adventurous glow. (seriously, you’ll catch yourself staring for too long)

The Singers:

1. Bruno Mars – Because tell me why this person screams "Grenade" and "Talking to the Moon" energy while also somehow being the embodiment of "24K Magic"? Like, The Magician + Page of Wands together? This is someone who can literally manifest whatever they want and also a very smooth talker😉

2. Shawn Mendes – WELL I TOLD YOU the tortured yet idealistic lover-boy energy is STRONG. This person is the type to run headfirst into love, say all the right things, and make your heart melt, but (and it’s a big BUT) they also struggle with self-doubt and the fear of not being enough because of their bad past perhaps. They have that youthful, adventurous spirit, probably love travel or trying new things, and are always looking for their "great love story" moment.

What This Says About Their Personality:

this person is a natural at commanding attention. They know how to use their charm, words, and presence to get what they want (lowkey, they probably flirt without realizing it—you might have to tell them to chill sometimes. BABY, they love with their whole chest (WHY DOES THIS PERSON SOUND LIKE A KDRAMA 2ND MALE LEAD😭). But the downside? They might have a history of falling for the wrong people or giving their all too quickly, leading to major emotional crashes. Although This person has had their fair share of heartbreaks or betrayals, but instead of staying down, they come back stronger. One thing about them which i see is, They HATR feeling stuck. Whether it's their career, love life, or personal growth, they need movement. Stagnation = death to them. Tbh, they might have commitment issues at first, not because they don’t love deeply, but because they fear getting stuck in the wrong thing again. They believe in deep, soulful connections, but they’re also witty, a bit cheeky, and have a playful side.

Overall they have that mix of "boy-next-door but also lowkey a heartbreaker." Like they could be the flirty lead in a rom-com but also have that deep, emotional intensity. If they walk into a room, you’d definitely notice them, even if they’re not trying to stand out.

For personal paid tarot reading click here!

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⟡ ݁₊ .Pile ll

OHHH, okay, i should say this, this spread is givinga "rich daddy aesthetic but also a secret softie"—and I am OBSESSED. This person is so layered, so multi-dimensional that you’re not just getting a future spouse, babe—you’re getting an experience😭. Now, let’s talk about singers.

The Singers:

1. Lana Del Rey – LISTEN. The High Priestess + The World combo SCREAMS "mysterious, poetic, and possibly on a higher spiritual plane than the rest of us." Your future spouse embody a WHOLE DAMN aesthetic. They have depth and an "I know something you don’t" energy that makes people naturally drawn to them. But oh, honey—this is someone who isn’t just vibing in They give off a "tragically beautiful but also rich and successful" vibe. SO LANA CODED.

Althtough i feel like this person has that hardcore LANA aesthetic and i wasn’t going for any other singer for this pile but i am also hearing hoizer???? Cuz look, This is the type of person who might have everything—money, status, power—but they’re still searching for something deeper, and if that ain’t this spread’s energy, I don’t know what is.

What This Says About Their Personality:

This person does NOT spill their secrets easily. They’re the type to just stare at you for five seconds, and you feel like they know all your past lives. It’s giving "intimidatingly intuitive," like you can’t lie to them even if you tried. Probably has a strong work ethic, maybe even runs their own business or is at the top of their field. But here’s the thing—they’re not flashy. They’re rich in a "quiet luxury" way rather than a "LOOK AT MY GOLD CHAIN" way. (Omg i feel like i am writing a wattpad fanfic😭) . they’ve been through enough life experiences to be WISE AS HELL. So that means, ther standards? High. This isn’t someone who jumps into relationships impulsively—they observe, and they only commit when it’s real. This person doesn’t do loud, over-the-top gestures Their love language is probably acts of service and deep conversations over wine while jazz plays in the background. They have a very ‘If You Know, You Know’ Aesthetic (lana reference again💅) They have this untouchable aura. Not everyone gets to see their soft, romantic side, but the few who do? Game over. People are either intimidated by them or completely mesmerized.

So overall, They might seem reserved or intimidating at first, but once they let you in, you’ll realize they’re the kind of person who loves profoundly, protects fiercely, and builds an empire while contemplating the universe. Good luck handling this one, bestie. They’re not for the weak.😀

For personal paid tarot reading click here!

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

✶⋆.˚Pile III

Your future spouse isn’t just built different—they’re built for the grind, the patience, and the long game. This is someone who knows struggle, doesn’t quit easily, and is out here crafting their legacy.

The singers:

1. Taylor Swift – I mean, COME ON. The Nine of Wands + 7 & 8 of Pentacles? This is someone who has been through battles, faced major setbacks, and STILL got back up every time. Your future spouse has that same relentless work ethic—they’re not the type to sit back and wait for things to happen; they MAKE them happen, even if it takes years. This person has had doubts, failures, maybe even moments where they felt like giving up—but they’re still here, still pushing, still thriving.

2. The Weeknd – Okay, hear me out. This person is obsessed with mastery. They aren’t just working hard for the sake of it—they want to be THE BEST at what they do. This energy is very ‘work now, enjoy later’—like they probably spent their younger years hustling, learning, and leveling up, while other people were out partying. They have discipline, ambition, and an almost obsessive drive to perfect their skills.

What This Says About Their Personality:

This person has been through hell, taken hits, and STILL keeps going. They’ve probably had moments of exhaustion, burnout, or self-doubt, but instead of quitting, they just rest, re-strategize, and come back even stronger. They’re like that one character in a movie who’s bruised, bleeding, and still smirking like ‘That all you got?’ Babe, this person is MARRIED to their work. Like, actually(you’re the third wheel) . They probably live and breathe their career or passion. Late nights, early mornings, constantly improving, never satisfied— this is someone who values progress over comfort. (Have they ever heard of a vacation? Probably not.) So by this you just know, if they are going on dates with you, giving their time to you, you’re the ONE FOR THEM🫠. This person doesn’t half-ass anything. If they’re going to do it, they’re going to do it RIGHT. They have high standards for themselves and expect the same from others. Translation: If you’re slacking, they will side-eye you.

I also see, your future spouse is strategic as hell. They’re not impulsive or reckless—they think ahead, invest wisely, and understand that real success takes TIME. (Financially stable king/queen? Love that for you.) So when they propose you, just know each of their actions were planned weeks before LOL.

For personal paid tarot reading click here!

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

Thank you so much for reading till here! I hope my reading resonated with you and you had a good time reading it! Let me know what pile did you choose and i love hearing your feedbacks of my readings♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

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lululocomo · 3 days ago

Text

The past: Macaque's Reaction

(this is about my Forgotten Wukong au! feel free to look at the masterpost linked at the end if you wanna know more!)

_______________

Liu Er Mihou was the first to notice something happened.

It’s been some years since his fight against Wukong, in which the Great Sage explained the best he could why he had to go through this pilgrimage and protect this monk. Mihou decided to give him one last chance and Wukong promised he will get home as soon as this Journey ended. Now Macaque is back on Flower Fruit Mountain hoping the King will keep his promise.

Macaque listens now and then in direction to the west, to know if the travel with the monk and the other pilgrims was almost done. The last time he listen what Wukong was up to, he was on his way to get his circlet removed by Guanyin after sealing the brotherhood in a scroll.

Finally! Wukong did kept his promise of getting back home after all of this was done! And about the brotherhood, well, Macaque wasn’t that sad about them. Sure they were friends, but not anymore, not after the fight against heaven and how they completely abandoned Wukong after it. Macaque still did try to find him and talked to him, even if the result was a smashed peach on the ground.

Mihou was still very conflicted about how to feel toward Wukong, they needed to have serious talk as soon as the King will be back on the mountain. But something wasn’t right, something was missing. Macaque couldn’t shake off this feeling of something missing, something big. Then he notice.

Wukong’s magic. He couldn’t feel it anymore.

Minutes ago he could feel it getting closer, feeling Wukong getting closer to Flower Fruit Mountain. But now, nothing. It vanished into thin air. And then he noticed the lack of sounds.

He could no longer hear Wukong's breath, or his heartbeat. Normally Macaque is able to hear it even if he is far away thanks to his six ears.

But now, there was only a deafening silence. He couldn’t understand, what just happened?

Not wanting to alarm the other demon monkeys on FFM, he continues to listen, to find any hints, anything to ease his mind and to tell him that all of this is a cruel joke.

His mind went blank. There was no way Wukong just disappeared like that. Yes, he still hasn't forgiven him for going with the pilgrims and how he abandoned him, but he never expected all of this.

_________

No more than an hour later, Nezha was at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain,asking to see Macaque or any monkey in charge of Wukong's kingdom.

Macaque was pulled back from his spiraling of thought when he noticed Nezha's presence.

Using his shadow to teleport to him, he told him he better have a good reason why he's there.

Nezha told him about all the things the Jade Emperor said; how Wukong died from a powerful curse he got during his journey, that apparently one of the many demons he fought had a cursed weapon capable of slowly killing an immortal being . And now his staff became cursed and is protected by a powerful barrier.

“ …where is he?” Macaque ask. “I- I don’t know. They didn’t answer when I asked, only saying he got disposed of.” “What do you mean disposed of?! You’re telling me it’s only been an hour since he supposedly died and he’s already disposed of??!” Nezha sighed: “Look I know this sounds very bad, and I agree something is awry. That’s why I came here as soon as I could to tell you this. Apparently his body was emanating a cursed energy after dying so that’s why they acted quickly” “... this doesn’t make any sense.." macaque paused "and what do you mean by something is awry? I was sure you would agree to whatever Heaven decided to do”. “I am not completely blind to what they do. Not long before they announced this, I saw that a part of the celestial army left the palace in secret and they got back when the news was spread. Perhaps it is connected, perhaps it is not. But my intuition tells me something is just wrong.”

“...”

“I know we are not on good terms but I thought it would be correct to tell you all this. I need to go now , my condolence for your loss.”

Nezha left the mountain as quickly as he got there to go back to the celestial palace.

Macaque stayed in the same spot,paralysed, still processing all the informations. ________

The news spread like wildfire. And everyone was too scared to go near the mountain with the "cursed magic staff".

Time passed, and Mihou was still looking for Wukong whenever he could, while protecting and taking care of the kingdom left behind after the sudden departure of the King.

Au Masterpost

#forgotten wukong au #lmk au #lego monkie kid au #lego monkie kid #lmk #my art #fanart #lmk fanart #lmk macaque #lmk six eared macaque #lmk liu er mihou #six eared macaque

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kangshxrtie · 2 days ago

Text

20 . the date

you were currently sitting on top of your bathroom counter getting your makeup done by julie while belle, sitting on the other side of the counter, managed the playlist.

"okay, tilt your head a bit this way," julie instructed, holding your chin lightly as she worked on your eyeliner.

"do not move," julie instructed, holding your chin lightly as she worked on your eyeliner. "i really don't feel like starting over on this."

"i'm not moving!" you whined, trying to stay perfectly still. "y'all act like i'm a child or something."

"because you are," julie teased, stepping back to admire her work. "alright, that's one eye done. belle, does this look good?"

belle leaned forward, inspecting your makeup. "it slays," she declared.

before you could respond, julie's phone buzzed on the counter. she glanced at it and sighed dramatically. "it's yunjin. she said, 'i'm literally fighting for my life in this traffic, but i'm almost there.'"

"she better not crash trying to get here," you muttered, knowing how yunjin got when she was excited for something.

julie finished your other eye and began rummaging through her bag for lip products. "don't worry. she's too stubborn to let anything stop her. plus, she'd never miss this. she's more invested in this date than you are."

"i am invested!" you defended yourself.

belle raised an eyebrow at you. "you are, but yunjin's on another level. she's probably gonna interrogate dani afterward."

"seems like some shit she would do," you said, shaking your head but smiling.

at that moment, the doorbell rang.

"that better be her," julie said, capping the lip gloss she'd picked out.

belle hopped off the counter and went to open the door. "yunjin's here! finally!"

"finally!" yunjin yelled from the doorway, her voice echoing through the apartment. moments later, she appeared in the bathroom, slightly out of breath but grinning. "i made it, y'all. the people on the streets tried me, but i persevered."

"you're just in time," julie said, holding up the gloss. "y/n's makeup is basically done. now we just need to pick the outfit."

you hopped off the counter, and the four of you made your way to your room, the energy buzzing with excitement. yunjin plopped down on the floor, leaning back against your bed, while julie and belle claimed the two chairs near your desk.

"alright, let's see the options," yunjin said, already making herself comfortable.

"i've got a few ideas," you replied, opening your closet. "i just need some second opinions."

"that’s what we’re here for," julie said, grinning.

you pulled out some of your outfit options, holding each one up for your friends to judge.

first up: light blue jeans, a pink top, and a light cream jacket, just in case the night got chilly.

second: baggy jeans, a white belt, a cute white tank, and a light brown jacket to pull it all together.

last: a light blue long-sleeve paired with a white skirt.

"i really like the first one, but maybe i’m just biased," belle said, tilting her head.

"nah, i think the second one’s the move," julie chimed in.

"yeah, you’ll match dani so good in that outfit," yunjin nodded in agreement.

"okay, at least i’m down to two options now," you said, eyeing the clothes.

belle squinted at you, then the outfits. "actually, i changed my mind. the second one’s gonna go with your makeup the best."

you laughed. "i don’t think picking my outfit has ever been this easy with y’all."

"’cause you finally gave us good options for once," julie teased.

"bitch, i’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that and protect my peace," you shot back, smirking.

"when are you gonna tell daniela you’re ready?" yunjin asked, glancing at the time.

"if i tell her i’m ready now, by the time i finish up, i should be good to go," you reasoned.

"then do that," belle said, tossing you your phone.

you quickly texted daniela.

"alright, she’s on the way," you announced.

"so, get dressed!" belle said, practically pushing you toward the bathroom.

"i’m trying!" you laughed, gathering everything you needed before disappearing to change.

when you stepped back out, all three girls let out loud cheers, yunjin even letting out a whistle.

"damn, you look so good," julie said, her eyes wide.

"i can’t believe i get to call you my best friend. you’re so hot," belle added dramatically.

"is it too late to tell you i’m in love with you?" yunjin joked, waggling her eyebrows.

"y’all are hyping me up way too much," you said, covering your face.

"just making sure you know to have standards," belle said, grinning. "expect nothing less from anybody."

"oh, i never would," you assured, smiling.

your phone buzzed again:

"she’s here. is it too late to kill myself?" you groaned, feeling the nerves kick in.

"i’m gonna go ahead and say yes," julie deadpanned.

"fine, i guess i’ll go," you sighed, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

"i’m sure you’ll have fun," yunjin said, her voice soft but encouraging.

"just text us if she gets weird—or if you just wanna dip," belle reminded you.

you grabbed your bag, slipped on your shoes, and did one last mirror check by the door. with a deep breath, you turned back to your friends, waving as you headed out.

you were practically shaking with nerves as you stepped outside, but instead of calming you down, seeing daniela's car only made your heart beat faster. she was leaning against her car door, holding a bouquet of flowers in hand.

she looked over at you, eyes scanning your outfit. "damn, you look good."

heat rushed to your face. "shut up."

"alright, i’ll chill. i ain’t know if you like flowers or not, i just wanted to get you something," daniela said.

"i do. thank you," you said, taking them from her.

"we should probably leave now, 'cause it’s getting real hard not to act like i don’t see your friends staring at me through the window," daniela said.

"they are?" you turned around, only to see all your friends sitting there, ducking down the second they realized they were caught.

"yeah, let’s go," you laughed. daniela opened the door for you, letting you slide in before going around to the driver’s side.

"you ready?" daniela asked, starting up the car.

"yeah," you nodded, buckling in and setting the flowers in the backseat.

your phone vibrated against your leg for what had to be the fifth time in a row, making you sigh. "oh my god."

daniela side-eyed you at a red light. "who's blowing up your phone like that?"

you unlocked it, already knowing who it was. "julie, belle, and yunjin. they're the ones who helped me get ready, and now they won’t leave me alone."

she smirked. "lemme see."

turning the screen toward her, you let her skim through the messages.

daniela chuckled. "i see our group chats are pretty much the same."

"i know," you groaned, locking your phone. "they act like this ain’t the first time they’ve done this for me."

"i bet," daniela snorted. "well, i feel honored. they really had you prepped."

"you should feel honored," you teased. "they don’t do that for just anybody."

daniela placed a dramatic hand over her heart. "wow. special treatment."

"you're so annoying," you muttered, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

the ride was filled with easy conversation, just the two of you asking questions, swapping stories, and laughing like y’all had known each other forever.

you glanced over at daniela as she cruised through the city streets, one hand chill on the wheel, the other tapping to the beat of whatever was playing. the sun was dipping low, casting everything in that perfect golden hour glow, and you couldn’t help but wonder where she was taking you.

"so, are you gonna tell me where we're going on this date now?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

daniela shot you a grin, her shades glinting in the light. "it’s a surprise."

you huffed, crossing your arms and pouting just a little. "i keep telling you i hate surprises."

she chuckled, that warm, easy kinda laugh. "you're gonna survive. trust me, you'll love this."

even though y’all had just started seeing each other, there was something about daniela that felt familiar, like you’d known her forever. maybe it was the way she moved like she owned every room, or maybe it was how she had you laughing without even trying.

plus, you couldn’t lie. you had a thing for the way she was dressed. she fits your type too well, wearing some shades to match her crop top and some bell-bottom jeans that hugged her just right.

"don’t worry though," daniela said, waving a hand like it was no big deal. "i'm not taking you anywhere crazy on our first date."

"mmm, if you say so," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "but if anything weird happens, i’m blocking you the second this date ends."

"damn, you mean as hell… that’s kinda hot," she admitted, and you caught the faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

eventually, she pulled into this plaza. there was a big mall, a movie theater, but what caught your eye was the massive mini-golf course that had just popped up.

"mini golf?" you asked, glancing at her sideways.

daniela grinned, sliding her shades down her nose. "surprise!"

you blinked, then a smile crept across your face. "how'd you know i liked mini golf?"

"yoonchae told me," she admitted. "said you was into this kinda stuff."

you laughed soft, feeling that little wave of warmth hit. "can’t believe she remembered that."

daniela leaned over, her shoulder brushing yours. "well, now’s your chance to prove how good you are at this."

"yeah," you said, grinning. "and i’m definitely finna beat you."

daniela raised an eyebrow, smirking "oh, that’s how you feel?"

"maybe," you shot back, playful.

"okay then," she said, swinging the car door open. "let’s put a lil’ wager on it."

"what do you have in mind?"

"loser buys dinner."

you chuckled. "bet."

y’all walked into the course, the faint sound of some orchestral music floating through the air. the whole place was jurassic park-themed, with dinosaur statues and little easter eggs from the movies everywhere.

at the first hole, styled like a tiny forest with a velociraptor nearby, daniela stepped up first. she sized up the shot, holding the club with that same confidence she carried everywhere.

"i ain’t done this in forever, so don't expect too much," she said, then swung the club.

to both your surprise, that ball rolled smooth across the fake grass and plopped right into the hole. a hole-in-one.

your jaw dropped. "there's no fucking way."

daniela laughed, looking just as shook as you felt. "guess i’m better than i thought."

trying to play it cool, you snatched the club from her hands. "okay, you're good… but i was a mini-golf pro back in the day."

"then show me what you got, ma’am," she teased.

you lined up your shot, took a breath, and swung. the ball rolled… and missed the hole entirely.

"man, stupid ass ball," you muttered.

daniela tried, and failed, to hide her grin. "somebody a lil’ rusty, huh?"

"next hole, i got you," you said, trying to sound confident.

and that’s how it went. daniela was out here playing like she’d been doing this her whole life, while you were struggling to find your groove. you managed a couple holes-in-one, but she was still holding the lead.

by the halfway point, you decided to go first, trying to flip the script. you aimed, swung… and sunk the ball clean into the hole.

"yes!" you yelled, throwing your hands up.

daniela whistled, impressed. "alright, i see you tryna catch up."

you shot her a smug look. "couple more and i’m winning this."

"you really think you gon' beat me in these next nine holes?" she teased.

"oh, i know i am," you replied, all confidence.

the competition started heating up for real, y’all going back and forth, outscoring each other at every hole. eventually, y’all made it to the final one.

"you first," you said, grinning.

"nah, i insist—ladies first," daniela shot back.

"you a lady too."

"yeah, but you more of a lady than me."

you laughed, shaking your head. "dani, just hit the damn ball."

daniela smirked and got in position. but right as she swung, an idea hit you. just as her club connected with the ball, you leaned in and gave her a little playful tap on the ass.

she gasped, and the ball veered off, missing the hole.

her jaw dropped. "you… that was dirty, and you know it!"

you burst out laughing. "i ain’t never said i play fair."

daniela shook her head, laughing right along with you. "good, ‘cause neither do i."

before you knew it, she stepped closer, her smile softening "you trouble, you know that?"

"you like it," you teased, feeling your heart race a little faster as the space between y’all disappeared.

she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours, just a brief, warm touch that sent a spark shooting through you. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to leave you wanting more.

y’all looked at each other, eyes locking, and then you both laughed soft, the tension melting into something easy.

"so," you whispered, still smiling. "guess we both buying dinner?"

"looks like it," she agreed.

you picked up your club. "but let me finish this game first."

"actually," daniela said, stepping behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. she placed her hands over yours on the club. "i got a better idea."

together, y’all lined up the shot. with her guiding your hands, you swung, and the ball rolled perfectly into the hole.

you turned to her, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the game. "what—" you started, your voice soft, "what’s next?"

daniela’s grin was warm, like the last light of the sun. "now we hit the arcade."

you laughed. "bet. you're definitely losing."

"we’ll see about that," she shot back, and you both walked off, the night just getting started.

inside, the arcade was buzzing with the sounds of games, laughter, and folks yelling over wins and losses. daniela led you straight to a row of racing games, but after a few rounds, and some embarrassing losses on your part, you decided it was time to switch it up.

"alright, i’m picking the next game," you declared, already scanning the arcade for something that you knew you were good at.

daniela walked beside you, hands stuffed in her jeans pockets. "we should make a bet. that way, when i win again, you owe me something."

you stopped in your tracks, making her halt too. "why do you think you're gonna win?"

"cause i’m better," she shot back, plain as day, but that little smile on her face gave her away.

you squinted at her. "bet’s on. if i win, you buy me dutch every morning for a week."

daniela hummed, pretending to think. "bet. and if i win, you buy me lunch for a week."

"shake on it," you grinned, and the two of you clasped hands, locking it in before resuming your search.

eventually, you landed on an air hockey table.

"for real?" daniela raised a brow.

"yup," you nodded. "there's no complicated controls. whoever wins is actually better."

"aight then," she smirked, sliding to one side while you took the other.

"you're gonna lose so bad," she taunted, grabbing the puck.

"yeah, aight," you shot back, gripping your striker tight.

the game kicked off with both of y’all fiercely guarding your goals, neither letting the puck slip through. but the moment daniela left the tiniest opening, you pounced, slamming the puck forward. she barely had time to react before it slid right into her goal.

"man, i let you have that round," she claimed, snatching the puck back.

"uh huh, sure you did," you smirked.

next round, daniela barely flicked her wrist and that puck shot clean into your goal.

"1-1," she grinned, smug as hell.

"not for long," you said, plopping the puck back on the table.

back and forth, y’all battled like it was life or death. you snuck in a slick shot that caught daniela slipping, making her groan out loud.

"aren't you a whole-ass dancer? where are them reflexes at now?" you teased, laughing.

"i let you have that one too!" daniela shot back, but that flustered look on her face? gave her away.

"keep telling yourself that," you chuckled, feeling the win in your bones.

the game raged on, both y’all too stubborn to back down. you were just one point away from victory when daniela slid in a quick goal, smirking like she already won.

"this my comeback," she announced, eyes gleaming.

you played that last round smart, waiting for her to get too focused on one side. the moment she left the other side wide open, you struck.

the puck slid smoothly into her goal.

"get fucking wrecked" you cheered, throwing your hands up like you just won the championship.

"ain’t no way," daniela huffed, shakig her head. "you definitely practiced for this."

"maybe i played with my mom a lot growing up," you shrugged, wearing the smuggest grin.

"nah, this wasn’t a fair game. i need a rematch," she insisted, trying to hold back her own smile.

"nope, dani," you laughed, pointing at her. "a deal’s a deal."

she groaned all dramatic-like. "can’t believe you just hustled me like that."

you just laughed harder, the sound mixing in with the chaos of the arcade.

the night rolled on, full of more games and playful trash talk, until you were both worn out.

"you ready for dinner now?" daniela asked.

"there's more?" you blinked.

"umm, of course. i gotta feed you," daniela grinned. "and i remember that bet we made about splitting dinner."

"i only made that bet 'cause i thought we were eating here," you shot back.

"i can't believe you were tryna cheap out," she teased.

"umm, excuse me, arcade food is actually expensive," you defended.

"i mean, yeah, but compared to where i'm takin' you?" daniela smirked, picking up her pace towards the car.

"i'm sorry, i don't think i heard you clearly," you said, matching her stride.

"i didn't really say anything," she shrugged.

"you will not gaslight me on our first date," you warned.

"i'm not! i didn't say anything," daniela laughed.

"so now i'm just hearing things?" you raised an eyebrow.

"exactly. now get in the car," she said, holding the door open for you.

"you're annoying," you muttered, sliding into the seat.

daniela chuckled, shutting your door before jogging to the driver's side. she started up the car and pulled out of the lot.

"did you make a reservation yet? 'cause i can do it," you offered.

"don't worry, i got it all handled," daniela assured.

"can i at least look up the menu then? just to know my options." and to look at the prices.

"they'll give us menus when we get there," daniela told you.

"just tell me, when you search up the restaurant, how many price tags does it have?"

"you think i remember that?" daniela laughed.

"then tell me the name so i can check."

"you'll be fine. i'm not takin' us somewhere that expensive."

"i don't trust your judgment. i've seen what you wear and what car you drive," you shot back.

"just chill. you'll see when we get there," she said.

"i'm leavin' if i see three digits on that menu," you warned.

the rest of the drive was filled with comfortable silence, daniela's playlist humming through the speakers as you both soaked in the vibe. when you finally pulled up to the restaurant, your suspicions were confirmed, this place definitely had "dip into your savings" written all over it.

daniela gave her name to the hostess, and you were seated almost immediately.

"yeah, dani, i'm not even gonna look at the third page 'cause apparently the numbers only go up from here," you whispered, eyeing the menu.

"y/n, you're literally not paying," daniela chuckled.

"what about going half?"

"i was never actually gonna make you pay. i asked you out," she said, smiling.

"in that case, i will look at the third page," you grinned.

"whatever you want," daniela laughed lightly.

the waitress came by to take your drink orders, and by the time she returned, you'd both settled on what you wanted to eat.

"can i finally get your number now?" daniela asked, leaning back in her chair.

"oh—yeah," you agreed, holding out your hand. she unlocked her phone, opened her contacts, and passed it to you. you quickly typed your number in.

"what should i make my contact name?" you asked, glancing up at her.

"whatever you want," daniela smirked.

"so just my name?" you teased.

"i mean, if that's what you want," she shrugged casually.

you went simple, naming yourself "y/n" with a colored heart emoji.

"can i name myself in yours?" daniela asked, taking her phone back.

"i don't know if i want you to," you teased.

"i'm not gonna do anything crazy, trust," daniela promised.

"i'm changing it immediately if it's some weird shit," you warned, handing her your phone.

"don't do that," daniela whined as she put her number in and named her contact.

the rest of dinner flowed effortlessly. the conversation was easy, the food was bomb, and you couldn't deny the little spark you felt growing.

after leaving the restaurant, neither of you wanted the night to end, so daniela just drove around the city. you watched the lights blur past the window, vibing to her playlist and talking about everything and nothing. but eventually, it got late, and you realized you hadn't even glanced at your phone, your friends were probably freaking out about, but you'd deal with that later.

daniela pulled up in front of your house and hopped out to walk you to the door. you grabbed your flowers from the back seat and followed her up the steps.

"tonight was fun," she admitted, hands in her pockets.

"yeah," you nodded, smiling. "it really was."

"i'll text you later," daniela said shyly, her confidence from earlier softening a bit.

"you fucking better," you teased.

you pulled out your keys to unlock the door but fumbled, dropping them on the porch. as you both bent down to grab them, your faces were suddenly inches apart, the air thick with tension.

"did you drop your keys on purpose so we could have a moment like this?" daniela teased.

"okay, don't get too confident now," you laughed, standing up with your keys in hand.

"if you wanted to kiss me, just say that," she smirked.

"even if i did want to kiss you, i think i have regrets now," you shot back, but your grin gave you away.

"wait, i take it back then," daniela said quickly. "forget everything i just said and go back to when you wanted to kiss me."

"i don't think i can," you teased.

"fuck, i fumbled," daniela groaned, rubbing her face.

"i wouldn't complain if you did kiss me, though," you admitted softly.

that was all daniela needed. she leaned in, kissing you hard but somehow soft at the same time, leaving you breathless.

"i should go in before we get carried away," you murmured, pulling back slightly, feeling dazed.

"that's a smart idea," daniela agreed, though her eyes lingered on yours.

"see you later," you whispered, giving her one last quick kiss before unlocking your door and slipping inside.

thankfully, it was late enough that you managed to sneak into your room without getting heckled by your friends. it wasn't that you didn't want to talk about the date, you just needed a minute to process everything first. telling everybody about the date could wait until tomorrow.

BACK | MAIN | NEXT

TAGLIST 🪩 @saysirhc @wintersgff @sixflame438 @1luvkarina @ihrtantn @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @vrtualstar @sed7ction @inybits @ellezra @meganskiendielsbtc @firstclassjaylee @modanisgf @kristalag @chaepu @wtfisthisnoclueman

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kazbrekkerfast · 2 days ago

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what instrument I think F1 drivers would play + reasons (from a cellist who is objectively correct)

(if you disagree that's fine please share your opinions I really want to know them)

Get ready cuz this is a LONG post. I also mostly stuck to the 2024 grid cuz I couldn't be bothered with much more

also please note that I wrote this whilst exhausted and avoiding practicing so if it has any spelling/grammar mistakes, you didn't see anything

1. Max Verstappen: percussion

ok so max is to me a percussionist through and through but also seems like the type of percussionist who learnt how to play the violin as a kid and hated it, so became a drummer instead. definitely plays the marimba like his life depends on it. also becuase I have a thing for them so ye 🥰 (I do however love a good fanfic where he's like a super competitive violin/piano player even if I can't really see him play them)

2. Charles Leclerc: piano

so he obviously already plays piano which suits him sm so I'm going to keep that because he has the correct vibes and everything for piano, but more on the late classical onwards stuff than the earlier music (I NEED to hear him play Debussy like omfg please)

3. Carlos Sainz: conductor

ok here me out but I can't see him playing in an orchestra BUT he would definitely conduct, and could probably play a string instrument/piano quite well but like it wouldn't be his passion if you get what I mean (I also feel like he'd be quite strict as a conductor but get super good performances out of the orchestra)

4. Daniel Riccardo: trombone (+bass trombone)

ok he's the reason I'm making this list because OMFG THIS MAN IS A BRASS PLAYER like defo lower brass too but I can't really see tuba player from him so trombone. he's also the kind of brass player to be stupidly good at percussion too so ye that too. also get this man in a big band. please.

5. Lando Norris: violin

ok so lando is always giving main character energy and like there's not much more main character than a violin, and also I can very much see him being a more romantic/lyrical player (he just has them vibes idk). HOWEVER broski has a MASSIVE hand span so he has to play piano cuz he can deffo reach them 10ths let's be real

6. Oscar Piastri: oboe (+french horn)

ok HEAR ME OUT!!!! tell me you can't see this guy play an oboe. I think he has the right sized face for it idk that sounds strange but I can see it please believe me 😭😭. Also french horn cuz it's my fave instrument except my own and I think he'd serve playing it idk

7. Lewis Hamilton: cello

I'm biased. he has the vibes. (not really but idc). also probably sings (he already does but shh). Definitely not a baroque player and probably plays more Dvorak era stuff (the things I'd do to see him play Brahms E minor) but this is all because I am spectacularly biased and want to see my fave drivers play my instrument. also producer vibes but that's unrelated.

8. George Russell: flute

ok so personally most male flute players I know are complete dickheads BUT I think George is the exception like he just seems quite flutey (also he kinda gives classical era piano player but that may be me being silly) but bro definitely doesn't like syncopated rhythms like let's be real if it's off the beat my guy would be completely lost. he does seem like the type to be able to read ledger lines tho

9. Yuki Tsunoda: percussion

I think he's another percussionist tbh but more cymbals and timps than tuned percussion. I don't have much more to say about Yuki because he's just cymbals in my head lmao

10. Pierre Gasly: euphonium

right. he gives wind because he's french BUT he probably is euf cuz like I can very much picture him playing it and also I can very much see him giggling at the back of a brass band or some shit with Yuki (yukierre nation what's good) so I've put him as a euf cuz why not

11. Esteban Ocon: clarinet

another biased opinion but I can see it like he just is a clarient I think. I think it's probs just the fact he's tall but like the stereotype of people looking like their instruments is real so he (he does give cellist a bit too but that may also just be because he's tall)

12. Fernando Alonso: trumpet

right this was a very tough one BUT he holds all the chaos and menace of a trumpet player (especially when he was younger), and I think it suits him quite well. he does give lower brass a bit but I think he has more trumpet vibes than lower brass so ye

13. Lance Stroll: clarinet

ok rich boi obviously would have been taught the violin and I think he'd be pretty good at it tbh BUT he gives clarient vibes so fucking hard like especially bass clarinet, cuz he's different like that

14. Nico Hulkeberg and Kevin Magnussen: trumpet

right. these two are together for a reason. these two are the two trumpet players in an orchestra who sit there yapping for half the rehearsal, play the 4 bars they have in a piece and then are done for the day. don't say you can't see it. you can.

15. Alex Albon: guitar

this one is quite specific but he gives like classical and jazz guitar vibes in a very specific way. also woodwind. idk he contains multitudes and I think we should celebrate that. maybe flute? I can see that. (I'm losing the plot here wtf even is an instrument)

16. Logan Sargent: viola

PLEASE DONT COME FOR ME I SAY THIS IN A GOOD WAY!!! he really has strings vibes to me but definitely is not violinist at all, therefore I think he'd be a good viola player. I'm sorry we all need one somewhere 😭. HOWEVER as he is American I will say get this man on the cheer squad and like idk have him throw people in the air while the marching band does it's thing I can see him doing that

17. Sergio Perez: french horn

sorry he's so far down I had actually no clue what instrument he has the vibes for at all. BUT I made up my mind, and I think he gives french horn vibes. don't ask me why I don't know it just is there

18. Valterri Bottas: tuba

HE TUBAS MORE THAN ANYONE HAS EVER TUBAD BEFORE also probs plays percussion on the side but in the sense that they didn't have enough one day so he volunteered to play for fun. I almost put him as a double bass but he really doesn't have strings vibes at all so I moved him to tuba

19. Zhou Guanyu: piano

this is going to sound weird af but don't take it that way but holy shit this guy's fingers are LONG like I think he could probs do a 9th or 10th easily (I'm so jealous) and I feel like he has piano vibes. also a bit stringy but also not idk I feel like he'd own a harp but not play it often so ye

20. Franco Colapinto: violin (?)

idk him that well and he has very similar vibes to lando (this may be due to the edits I have CONSUMED over the last few months) so ye I think he could be violin, maybe like leader of the 2nds kinda thing for the fun of it

21. Liam Lawson: guitar and drum kit

ok. this is a copout cuz he already does and posts things of him playing but like he just is guitar like that is what he is in my mind. also he gives the vibe of that one guitarist who decided to learn drums but hasn't got the coordination quite right yet so isn't great at keeping time but thinks he's great anyways (I love him really)

ANYWAYS IM DONE THANKYOU IF YOUVE GOT THIS FAR I WISH YOU ALL THE LOVE AND HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD

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pdriesta · 2 days ago

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CHAPTER SEVEN

baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 8k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an — i am sorry for the late update! i've been ill :( stream all of AAA and how does it feel by flo!!

masterlist

trent’s text had been annoyingly vague.

trent: come over. we need to talk.

y/n hadn’t expected much. she figured it would be another tense conversation about keeping up appearances or whatever trent decided was his priority of the day. but as she stepped through the door of his house, she was hit with an overwhelming wave of chatter, laughter, and the smell of home-cooked food that wrapped around her like a familiar hug.

his whole family was there.

“y/n!” trent’s mom was the first to greet her, pulling her into a warm hug, her arms squeezing just tight enough to make y/n forget to breathe for a second. she pulled back, eyes warm and scanning y/n with the kind of softness that made her heart clench.

“finally! trent’s told us so much about you.”

“oh, has he?” y/n raised a brow, her voice laced with humor as she glanced at trent, who stood behind her looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“mum, don’t start,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“oh, hush, trent.” his mom waved him off, her full attention returning to y/n. “you’re even prettier than i imagined,” she said, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “and your music! it’s so good. we’ve all been listening.”

y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. “really?”

“absolutely. you’re incredibly talented, love. you should be so proud of yourself.” trent’s mom reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “and i’m proud of you. it’s not easy doing what you do, but you’ve done it with such grace. you’re strong, and you’re good for my son.”

the words hit y/n like a punch to the chest, knocking the air right out of her. she felt her throat tighten as she tried to swallow the sudden wave of emotion. the absence of her mother, felt so stark in that moment, it was suffocating. she hadn’t heard words like that in so long—words filled with love, warmth, and pride.

she blinked quickly, forcing herself to breathe, to pull it together. she couldn’t break down here, not in front of trent’s family.

but trent noticed. of course, he did.

from his place beside her, he watched the way her lips pressed into a thin line, how her eyes dropped to the floor for just a second too long. he saw the way she tried to cover the rawness in her expression with a small, polite smile.

“mum,” trent said, his voice softer now, stepping in before y/n could crumble under the weight of her own emotions. “don’t overwhelm her, yeah?”

his mom chuckled, clearly oblivious to the storm brewing inside y/n. “oh, nonsense. she’s family now.”

trent placed a hand on y/n’s back, grounding her. his thumb traced slow, soothing circles as he leaned down, voice low enough for only her to hear. “you okay?”

she nodded, blinking up at him with a grateful smile. “yeah. i’m good.”

but he knew better. and so, he kept his hand there, steady and reassuring, while his mom continued to talk, her voice soft and filled with love.

before y/n could process much else, a younger alexander-arnold siblin—who had to be marcel—rushed over, his eyes wide with excitement. “y/n! oh my days, i can’t believe you’re actually here.”

she laughed, taken aback by his energy. “hi, and you must be marcel?”

“yeah, yeah, that’s me. okay, i have to say it—you’re, like, my celebrity crush. this is mad.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up, but she grinned, playing it off. “well, thank you. that’s very sweet.”

“marcel, chill,” trent groaned, pulling his brother back by the collar of his shirt. “you’re gonna scare her off.”

“what? i’m just being honest!” marcel protested, his voice cracking slightly as he looked at y/n. “you’re even prettier in person, by the way.”

“okay, that’s enough,” trent cut in, giving marcel a pointed look. “go help dad or something.”

y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange, especially when marcel shot her an exaggerated wink before walking off.

for the rest of the night, trent didn’t take his eyes off her. he watched how she slowly relaxed again, how she laughed with marcel, how she charmed his sister-in-law and mum. and though she was still a little quieter than usual, she never let her guard slip again.

but trent had seen it—the way her walls had cracked for just a second, leaving a glimpse of something tender and broken underneath.

and he couldn’t shake it.

the hours passed in a blur of laughter, food, and playful teasing. y/n found herself easing into the warmth of the alexander-arnold family, who welcomed her like one of their own. but the real chaos started during an intense game of uno, with everyone shouting and accusing each other of cheating before they began to trickle home, leaving y/n, trent and the youngest alexander-arnold sibling (who his mum mocked for "thirdwheeling").

“you’re so bad at this game,” y/n teased trent, placing down a draw four card with a triumphant grin.

“you’re cheating,” he shot back, narrowing his eyes at her.

“sounds like someone’s a sore loser,” she quipped, earning laughs from his siblings.

marcel, ever the instigator, suddenly leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “now that you’re basically part of the family, y/n, i’ve got to ask you something.”

she raised a brow, intrigued. “what’s that?”

“your exes,” he said bluntly, making everyone pause.

trent groaned loudly, his head falling back against the couch. “marcel, don’t.”

“no, no, i gotta know,” marcel insisted, ignoring his brother’s protests. “what’s real and what’s fake? i mean, with all the articles and stuff… i’m curious.”

y/n couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “seems like everyone’s interested in that topic lately.”

marcel pulled out his phone, opening an article from The Sun. “okay, let’s start with the obvious—jadon.”

y/n’s cheeks flushed, and she shyly nodded. “yeah… that one’s true.”

trent scoffed immediately, sitting up straighter. “not anymore,” he muttered under his breath, earning a pointed look from y/n.

marcel grinned, clearly enjoying the tension. “alright, what about central cee?”

y/n scrunched her nose in visible disgust. “nope. we have a song together, sure. but people handled that. i think we’ve said maybe three words to each other. that’s it.”

trent couldn’t hide his smile at her answer, which only annoyed her more.

“okay, next—damson idris.”

y/n sighed dramatically, a dreamy look crossing her face. “i wish.”

trent immediately stiffened, his jaw tightening. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

marcel, catching his brother’s reaction, smirked. “y/n’s got a type, and it’s definitely not you.”

trent shot him a glare, but y/n, sensing an opportunity to tease him, leaned closer with a sly smile. “you’re still my best boyfriend, though… unless damson calls me. then i’m out the door.”

trent rolled his eyes, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “no one would be able to deal with your attitude anyway.”

the banter continued until marcel brought up one more name. “what about tee higgins?”

y/n’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “yes,” she admitted quietly.

marcel’s eyes lit up. “oh, an american football player? now this is interesting.”

trent frowned, his gaze snapping to y/n. “what’s that about?”

she shrugged nonchalantly, trying to downplay it. “i was in america for a show, and he came out. we hung out a bit, and that was it.”

trent’s frown deepened, jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. “i don’t like it.”

y/n raised a brow, clearly amused. “well, good thing it’s not up to you.”

“i’m the only footballer you need,” he said firmly, his tone possessive.

y/n, ever the instigator herself, leaned closer with a teasing smile. “oh, but tee was such a pretty boy. just my type.”

trent didn’t say anything at first, but the twitch in his jaw and the fire in his eyes said enough. without warning, he reached over and pulled her onto his lap, his fingers digging into her sides as he started tickling her mercilessly.

“take it back,” he demanded, a rare smile breaking through his usual seriousness.

“never!” y/n squealed, squirming in his grasp as she laughed uncontrollably.

marcel, watching the chaos unfold, smirked. “mission accomplished.” he stood up, stretching lazily. “i’ll leave you two to it. try not to kill each other.”

as soon as marcel left the room, trent loosened his grip, letting y/n catch her breath. she stayed on his lap, her face flushed from laughter, and looked at him with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“you’re ridiculous, you know that?” she said, still breathless.

“and you’re annoying,” he shot back, though his tone was far softer than usual.

they stayed like that for a moment longer, the playful tension between them giving way to something quieter, something almost tender. but neither of them said a word about it, both too stubborn to acknowledge whatever was brewing beneath the surface.

lately, things between them had shifted—soft, almost imperceptible at first, but unmistakable now. more outings. more moments that felt like stolen pieces of something bigger. trent was the type to just tell her to be ready, showing up at her door with no explanation, sweeping her away to hidden corners of the city like it was her own personal fairytale.

but it wasn’t really a fairytale. it was them, caught somewhere between friends and something dangerously close to more.

tonight was no different.

the restaurant hummed with quiet conversation, the faint clinking of silverware against plates filling the air. they sat tucked into a cozy corner booth, the warm amber light casting a soft glow over their table. the night felt easy, their laughter and conversation flowing as naturally as ever. it was a date, but not really. just another outing that blurred the lines of what they were supposed to be. yet, trent couldn’t help but think it felt all too real.

she looked beautiful tonight—oversized blazer, mini skirt, heels that showed off her legs, and that barely-there gloss on her lips that caught the light just right. his eyes kept drifting back to her even as she scrolled through the menu, her brows furrowing in thought as she decided what to order.

“i can feel you staring,” she teased without looking up, her lips curling into a playful smile.

trent leaned back, unbothered. “can you blame me?”

she shook her head with a laugh, but a blush crept up her neck anyway.

moments like this were dangerous. they tiptoed on the edge of something unspoken, both of them too stubborn—or too afraid—to admit how much they liked it here, caught in their own grey area.

he couldn’t say it aloud, but this was starting to feel like more than just fun, more than just convenience. he didn’t just like her company—he wanted it. craved it.

and the way her eyes lit up every time he showed up at her door, no questions asked, told him she felt it too.

but neither of them dared to say it. not yet.

his leg bounced nervously under the table, the question he’d been trying to ask sitting heavy on his chest. he wasn��t usually like this—hesitant, unsure—but something about asking her felt… different.

“so, what are you thinking of getting?” she asked, glancing up at him, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

“uh, haven’t decided yet,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. his nerves were getting the better of him. the words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, but every time he opened his mouth, they refused to come out.

y/n tilted her head at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “you okay? you’ve been weirdly quiet all night.”

“yeah, yeah, i’m fine,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “just… thinkin’.”

she didn’t push, simply nodding and turning her attention back to the menu, but trent knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. he needed to ask before he lost his nerve completely.

“hey,” he said suddenly, making her look up again.

“what?” she asked, her voice curious.

he hesitated, running a hand over his jaw. “so… england’s playing at wembley next week,” he started, trying to sound casual. “and, uh, i was wondering if you’d want to come. you know, to… match.”

her face softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. “of course,” she said easily. “i mean, it’s a public outing, right? gotta play the part of the supportive girlfriend.”

her words were lighthearted, teasing, but they still made his chest tighten. because that’s all it was supposed to be—playing a part. but lately, it didn’t feel like pretending anymore.

“yeah,” he said, forcing a grin. “exactly.”

the conversation moved on, and they ordered their food, but the comfortable rhythm of their night was broken when y/n suddenly cleared her throat, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin.

“trent?”

“hm?” he glanced up from his plate, his brows lifting in curiosity.

she hesitated, her eyes darting to his before quickly looking away. “i, um… i wanted to ask you something.”

“yeah? what’s up?”

she bit her lip, clearly nervous, and it made his stomach twist. whatever she was about to say, it was important.

“zaia and cash’s wedding is coming up,” she started, her voice quieter than usual. “and… i was wondering if you’d be my date.”

the words hung in the air between them, heavier than he expected.

trent blinked, taken aback. he knew how close she was to zaia—her best friend since childhood. this wasn’t just any wedding. it was a big deal, and she was asking him.

his thoughts spiraled. was this just another part of their arrangement? was she asking because it made sense, because they were supposed to be seen together? or did it mean something more?

but then he looked at her—at the way her hands nervously played with her napkin, the way she avoided his gaze, her cheeks faintly pink. there was something shy and vulnerable about her in that moment, something that tugged at a part of him he couldn’t quite name.

“it’s just… you know, it’s a big deal,” she rambled, her fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt. “they’re my family—like, real family, not just close friends—and everyone’s gonna be there. my best friends, my mom, everyone.” she paused, taking a breath. “i usually just go to these things solo and handle it fine. i’m okay flying solo most of the time, actually, but—”

her words tumbled out so fast that she barely had time to breathe between them, her voice rising slightly as nerves took over. she glanced up at him, her cheeks warm, feeling a little ridiculous for putting so much weight on this. “i don’t usually… ask anyone to stuff like this. but it feels right, asking you. so… yeah.”

trent’s chest tightened as her words settled over him. she was trying to sound casual, but this wasn’t casual at all. not for her.

she didn’t just bring anyone into that world—into something as sacred as family.

her family was private. important. untouchable.

and here she was, asking him to be a part of it.

“y/n,” he said, his voice softer than he intended, eyes searching hers.

she shifted under his gaze, suddenly regretting everything. “you don’t have to say yes, by the way,” she added quickly, trying to backtrack. “it’s totally fine if you’re busy or if it’s too much, i’ll just—”

“i’d love to,” trent interrupted, his lips curving into a slow smile.

her breath caught. “really?”

“yeah,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes holding hers with a warmth that made her feel like maybe she hadn’t just made a fool of herself. “i’m honored you even asked. it’s not just a wedding—it’s your family’s wedding.” he paused, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “that means a lot.”

she smiled back at him, the tension in her shoulders easing. “good,” she said softly, her voice steadying. “i’m glad you’ll be there.”

trent couldn’t stop thinking about how big this was. being her date meant something. being seen with her at something so personal, so intimate—she was letting him into a world she didn’t share with just anyone.

and he didn’t take that lightly.

the air in the stands was electric as fans filtered out of the stadium, still buzzing from england’s triumphant match. y/n was caught up in it all, her excitement evident in the way she practically glowed as she spoke to trent’s family about the game. she couldn’t stop smiling, her phone clutched tightly in her hands, still warm from snapping pictures throughout the match.

she hadn’t expected trent to come up to them so soon after the final whistle, but when she spotted him climbing the steps toward their section, her breath caught. his medal glinted under the stadium lights, the man of the match trophy in his hands as his gaze landed on her almost instantly.

he greeted his family first, sharing hugs and quick words of gratitude, but then he turned to her, his grin softening into something almost shy.

“you played incredible,” she said before he could say anything, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

“yeah?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes searching hers, as if her opinion mattered more than anyone else’s.

“you know you did.”

without a word, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, the gesture so quick and fleeting it almost felt imagined. her heart skipped at the contact, but she told herself it was just for the cameras. there were plenty of phones around, after all, and a player celebrating with someone in the stands was always a headline. she convinced herself it meant nothing as he handed her the trophy and slid into the seat between her and marcel.

“here,” he said, nodding toward the gleaming silver in her hands. “you should hold it.”

“what?” she blinked at him, cradling the trophy like it was fragile. “you’re seriously letting me hold this?

“why not?” he shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “looks better in your hands anyway.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile pulling at her lips. her fingers traced over the engraving as she admired it up close, the weight of it grounding her excitement.

“pose with it,” trent said, pulling out his phone

“pose?” she laughed, glancing around nervously. “for what?”

“for appearances, of course,” he teased, his tone light but his eyes warm.

y/n gave him a mock glare but shifted the trophy slightly, holding it up as she puckered her lips in a playful air kiss. trent snapped a few photos, his grin widening with each click. when she lowered the trophy, she caught him staring at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen as he uploaded one to his story.

“what?” she asked, raising a brow.

“nothing,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. but the way his smile lingered told her everything she needed to know.

as the conversation around them flowed, trent leaned closer, his attention fully on her now. “so,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “how’d you like the match?”

“oh, i loved it!” she said, her face lighting up. she unlocked her phone, scrolling quickly before turning the screen toward him. “look, i got some great pictures. see this one? and this? oh, and this!”

she flipped through shot after shot, her excitement spilling over with every frame. trent didn’t say much, just watched her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. pride, maybe? or something else entirely?

“you’re really into this, huh?” he asked, his voice soft.

“of course!” she said, glancing at him briefly before focusing back on her phone. “how could i not be? you were amazing out there, trent. seriously.”

he smiled at that, his chest swelling at the sincerity in her voice. “thanks,” he said quietly, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer before he turned back to the ongoing conversation, though his attention never fully left her.

she was wearing his shirt, holding his trophy, sitting with his family. it felt… right. and he didn’t want to let the moment go.

she was still scrolling through her phone, her excitement making her words tumble over each other as she recounted her favorite moments of the match. “and this one—look at how sharp you look here. oh, and this one’s from the free kick! the angle is perfect. i’m telling you, trent, you looked—”

he couldn’t help it anymore. the way her eyes sparkled when she talked, the way she was so genuinely proud of him, it made his chest ache in the best way. she was buzzing, glowing with excitement, and trent was captivated.

“y/n,” he said softly, interrupting her mid-sentence.

“what?” she asked, glancing up at him, her brows furrowing slightly.

before she could say anything else, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, cutting her off completely. it wasn’t hurried or forceful, just deliberate, like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment. her lips were soft, warm, and he could taste the faint sweetness of whatever lip balm she was wearing.

she froze for a second, her phone slipping slightly in her hands as the kiss caught her off guard. her heart was pounding, and when he finally pulled back, just enough to look her in the eye, her cheeks burned.

“what was that for?,” she breathed, her voice quiet and unsure.

“just cause,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering.

her lips parted, but no words came out. y/n, who always had something clever to say, was speechless for once, her thoughts racing faster than she could process.

“you—you can’t just do that,” she finally managed, her voice a mix of shyness and disbelief.

he chuckled softly, his hand brushing against hers as he leaned back slightly. “why not?”

“because…” she trailed off, her cheeks still flushed.

“because?” he prompted, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

she shook her head, unable to form a coherent response. instead, she turned back to her phone, pretending to focus on the screen even though she couldn’t stop glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

but trent didn’t stop watching her, his expression soft and full of something she couldn’t quite name. she felt it in the air between them, unspoken but undeniable. and as much as she wanted to brush it off, she couldn’t shake the way her chest tightened every time he looked at her like that.

the studio always felt like a different world to trent. a little sanctuary tucked away from everything, with dim lighting, soundproof walls, and the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air. it was hers—every detail, every piece of equipment, every soft hum of music that filled the space—it all belonged to y/n in a way nothing else did. he could see it in the way she moved, the way her shoulders dropped in relief as soon as she crossed the threshold.

he liked being here. maybe a little too much.

his eyes drifted to her across the room as she adjusted a mic stand, her braids falling over her shoulder, lips slightly pursed in concentration. she had that effortless kind of beauty, the kind that hit him harder when she wasn’t even trying. no cameras, no crowds—just her, in her element.

he wanted to tell her how good she looked. how proud he was every time she let him listen to a new track. how his chest felt lighter just being near her. but he couldn’t. not really. not without risking the quiet thing they had, this unspoken closeness that felt too fragile to push.

because y/n was quick to pull away. always had been. she had a way of retreating whenever things got too heavy, too real. trent learned to read the signs: the slight shift in her tone, the way her smile would falter for a second before she’d brush it off with a joke. she’d never say it outright, but he knew her well enough to know when she was putting up walls.

so he stayed quiet. kept it light. he’d rather sit here and be a part of her world in whatever way she’d let him than risk saying something that would make her push him out.

“you sure you’re not bored?” y/n asked, turning to him with a raised brow, her eyes catching the soft light from the corner of the room.

“nah,” he said easily, leaning back in his chair, his lips curling into a small smile. “i like watching you work.”

she rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched at the edges, trying not to smile back. “you say that now. wait until i start obsessing over one line for twenty minutes.”

trent chuckled, his gaze never leaving her. “i’ll survive.”

for y/n, it was strange having him here. this place had always been hers—a space where she could be messy, raw, vulnerable. no one ever stayed long enough to see what it meant to her. but trent was different.

he didn’t ask too many questions. didn’t hover or try to take control. he just… fit. like he belonged here without even trying.

she glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she fiddled with the controls. it felt good, having him here. warm, steady, grounding. almost dangerous, how easily she had gotten used to his presence.

y/n stood in the booth, her voice filling the studio with a sultry richness that had everyone’s attention, but none more so than trent’s. he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing in the room. she had this magnetic pull, something about her that made everything else disappear when she sang.

the track rolled into the second verse, and y/n’s voice dropped lower, almost like a secret, smooth and dripping with confidence. it curled around the words like they were meant to tease, to challenge.

"i bet you feel like that man when you next to me, just as you should. i know that you like your hands up on my body, toss me, it’s good..."

trent’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening as her words wrapped around him. the way she sang that—playful, almost daring—made his chest feel tight. he knew this was just music, knew she wasn’t supposed to be singing to him. but damn if it didn’t feel like she was. every line sent a jolt through him, her voice steady, deliberate.

"but you better play your position, don’t let it slip, better not fold. need loyalty, ‘cause i’m royalty with this grip, treat it like gold..."

his fingers tapped restlessly on his knee, his mind spiraling. this grip, treat it like gold... it wasn’t a stretch to imagine y/n writing those lines with him in mind. the thought made his stomach twist—half with pride, half with something much deeper. she was always guarded, never giving too much away, but this... this felt like a glimpse into the parts of her she kept locked up.

he wondered what it would be like if this wasn’t just a song. if they weren’t just flirting around the edges of something real. if he could actually claim her—not just in private moments but out there, for everyone to see. trent alexander-arnold, dating the biggest r&b talent in the game. the image burned itself into his brain, filling him with a dangerous kind of pride.

y/n finished the verse, stepping out of the booth with that casual confidence she always carried. she grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, taking a long sip, avoiding his gaze—like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“you wrote that?” trent asked finally, his voice low and rough.

she glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “yeah. it’s just a song.”

just a song, but his heart was still racing.

“that might be my new favorite,” he said, his hand finding her knee, thumb brushing over the fabric of her sweats. “seriously... loved it.”

her lips curved slightly, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—something vulnerable. “really?” she asked softly. she felt a warmth creep up her neck, her heart speeding up for reasons she couldn’t admit. the song was about him—every line, every note. but she’d never say that out loud.

“yeah,” trent said, his gaze holding hers. “i’ve listened to all your music. thought mad at me was the one, but this takes the cake.

y/n smiled softly as she let trent’s words sink in, her heart fluttering in a way she wasn’t used to. the quiet between them felt tender, almost fragile, like neither of them wanted to break it. she was about to say something, maybe even thank him again, when the engineer called her name, asking her to head back into the booth to re-record a section.

trent frowned immediately, his brows pulling together. "what? that was perfect," he said, his hand still resting on her knee as if to keep her in place. his voice held a mix of disbelief and protectiveness, like he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to change a single thing.

y/n laughed softly, reaching over to squeeze his wrist. "it’s just how it works," she teased, her voice light as she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "don’t look so offended."

his frown eased slightly, but he still didn’t seem convinced. "nah, seriously, they don’t know what they’re doing. it’s already a hit."

she shook her head, laughing again as she stood, adjusting her hoodie. "you’re biased," she said, giving him a playful look. "but thanks."

he leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms as he watched her. "so how long are you gonna be in there this time?"

she glanced over her shoulder as she reached the booth door. "could be a while," she admitted, shrugging. "if you wanna head out, it’s cool."

trent scoffed, sitting up straighter. "and leave you here? nah, i’m good."

her lips curved into a warm smile, something soft flickering in her chest. "okay," she said, her voice quieter this time.

as she stepped into the booth, she could still feel his gaze on her, steady and reassuring. even as the door closed behind her and the music started up again, she couldn’t help the way her cheeks burned from the memory of his words, his touch, and that quiet, tender moment that had left her feeling more seen than she ever had before.

trent’s living room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the television casting shadows across the room. fifa commentary droned in the background, but trent wasn’t paying attention anymore. his eyes flicked between the game and y/n, who was curled up against him, scrolling through tiktok with a lazy ease. her head rested on his chest, braids spilling over his arm as she chuckled softly at a video.

“look at this one,” she said, turning the phone toward him. “this trend is everywhere.”

he glanced at it briefly, smirking. “why do i feel like you’re about to make me do one of those with you?”

“because i am,” she teased, poking his side. “you’d look cute doing it.”

“not happening,” trent shot back, shaking his head with a laugh. “you’re not embarrassing me on the internet.”

she rolled her eyes dramatically and returned to scrolling, her body relaxed against his. it was comfortable. easy. the kind of easy that snuck up on you and made you forget that there were rules to whatever this was supposed to be.

but then his phone buzzed beside him, the screen lighting up with a notification. he glanced at it instinctively, his jaw tightening when he saw the name.

jadon.

his grip on the controller tightened, and for a moment, he debated saying nothing. but it ate at him too quickly. too loudly.

“you still talking to him?”

y/n blinked, caught off guard. she sat up slightly, her brows furrowed. “what?”

“jadon,” he repeated, nodding toward his phone. “you still talking to him?”

“oh.” her face softened. “i mean... not really. he just checks in sometimes. sees how i’m doing, you know?”

trent’s gaze didn’t waver. “and you’re sure that’s all it is?”

she shrugged, brushing it off like it was nothing. “yeah, it’s innocent. it’s not like he’s—” she paused, catching herself. “it’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.”

the words hit harder than she probably intended, their weight settling heavily between them. she wasn’t wrong—they weren’t together. not really. but hearing her say it out loud made something twist in his chest, a dull ache that caught him off guard.

y/n didn’t notice his shift. she leaned back into him, her focus already back on her phone as if nothing had changed. but for trent, everything had.

he clenched his jaw, the silence growing thicker, pressing in on him. “so you just let him check in? whenever he wants?”

her head shot up, eyes narrowing at the edge in his voice. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

trent leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his back no longer relaxed against the couch. “just seems like he still thinks he has a shot. that’s all i’m saying.”

y/n blinked, processing his sudden change in tone. “and so what if he does? why do you care?”

the question was soft, casual even, but it cut through the tension like a knife.

trent leaned back into the couch, jaw still tight as he watched her, tension crackling between them. the air felt thick, suffocating in the silence that followed. his eyes flicked toward his phone again, and something about the way her name lit up the screen on jadon’s message gnawed at him. his voice dropped lower, a little too sharp.

“you always let him back in, huh? just like before. always putting yourself in another mess.”

y/n froze. her fingers tightened around her phone, her face carefully blank even as her heart lurched at his words. she blinked, processing them, the sting more potent than she expected.

“another mess?” she echoed softly, voice calm but edged with something dangerous. “like this one?”

trent’s breath caught in his throat, his regret immediate. he opened his mouth to take it back, to soften the blow, but the damage was already done.

she sat up straighter, her gaze locking onto his now, eyes shining with something between disbelief and hurt. “if that’s how you see it, trent, then what the hell are we even doing?”

he rubbed a hand over his face, tension rolling off him in waves. “that’s not what I meant—”

“then what did you mean?” she pressed, folding her arms across her chest, her voice cracking slightly at the end. “because it sure sounds like you think this—me, you—was just some kind of mistake.”

trent hated himself for the flicker of pain in her eyes, for how vulnerable she looked in that moment. for how real it felt. he stood up, closing the space between them, his frustration melting into something softer.

“y/n, no,” he said, his voice gentler now. “you’re not a mistake. i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then why would you say it?” her voice dropped to a whisper, her walls cracking just enough for him to see the truth—the doubt she’d been hiding.

she stood anyway, brushing imaginary lint off her leggings. “it’s not a good idea for me to stay.” she paused, her voice quieter this time. “we can’t forget what this is.”

y/n stared at him, her heart in her throat, torn between every instinct screaming at her to protect herself and the pull of his words, his touch. she opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

trent’s voice was barely above a whisper. “don’t go.”

her words felt more like a reminder to herself than him, her eyes refusing to meet his as she grabbed her phone.

“y/n,” trent said, standing too. his hand brushed against hers, lingering for a second too long. “you don’t have to go.”

she shook her head, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “i do.”

he wanted to argue, wanted to pull her back down onto the couch and make her stay until the tension eased and they could go back to laughing at tiktoks. but the look in her eyes stopped him—something fragile and uncertain, something he wasn’t sure he could fix in that moment.

and just like that, she slipped out the door, leaving him standing there, the words he couldn’t say caught in his throat.

trent sat back down, running a hand through his curls, his fifa game still paused on the screen. he hated how much her absence suddenly filled the room, how the air felt heavier without her in it.

and all he could think about was the way she said, we can’t forget what this is—because the truth was, trent wasn’t sure what this was anymore. but whatever it was, it mattered. more than he was ready to admit.

the bridal shop smelled like fresh fabric and lavender candles, soft afrobeats playing faintly in the background. racks of flowing gowns lined the walls, glittering under the warm lights. y/n hadn’t been to a fitting like this in forever, surrounded by zaia and her cousins, laughter spilling from every corner of the shop. it felt easy, familiar, and for a moment, she forgot how much she’d missed this—how lonely things had felt lately, despite how much she loved trent’s company.

she loved being around him, craved it even, but the lines were getting blurry. dangerous.

as she disappeared behind the curtain, the air shifted, quieter, almost intimate. the fabric of the emerald green gown was soft beneath her fingertips, heavy and rich, embroidered with gold and glittering stones that caught the light every time she moved. y/n adjusted it carefully, catching her reflection in the mirror. for a second, a fleeting thought crossed her mind—if she ever had a wedding of her own, would it look like this? would she wear something this stunning?

but no man came to mind. not really.

her brain whispered a name, low and familiar, but she shook it off. it wasn’t trent. it couldn’t be.

“god, this dress is heavy,” y/n called out, brushing the thought away as she adjusted the fabric on her shoulder.

“beauty is pain, babe,” one of zaia’s cousins teased, laughing from the other side of the curtain.

zaia’s voice was calm, steady. “is it fitting okay?”

“yeah,” y/n said softly, smoothing the front one last time before glancing at herself again. for a second, she let herself admire the way it clung to her curves, the way it made her feel like royalty. the matching fan rested on a stool nearby, waiting to complete the look.

behind the curtain, she hesitated, glancing at zaia. “you really think it’s okay if i bring trent to the wedding?” her voice was softer now, a little unsure.

zaia arched a brow, leaning forward on the cushioned bench. “why wouldn’t it be okay?”

y/n shrugged, fingers brushing the delicate stones on her dress. “i don’t know. it’s just… complicated.”

zaia tilted her head, her tone casual, but there was something in her eyes—something sharp. “complicated how? y/n, you’ve been spending all your time with him lately. it’s cute, but… girl, you know you’re gonna have to tell that boy you like him eventually, right?”

y/n peeked at zaia, eyes wide. “it’s not like that,” she muttered, though her pulse picked up at the words.

zaia smirked. “oh, it’s not? babe, it’s like watching a slow-motion car wreck. you both like each other, and it’s so obvious it hurts. just do something about it before we all go insane.”

y/n’s laugh was soft, almost nervous. “you’re dramatic.”

“you’re in denial,” zaia shot back, grinning.

before y/n could respond, she took a breath, pushed back the curtain, and stepped out. every conversation in the room stopped, all eyes snapping to her as she walked into the light, the gown shimmering with every step.

“y/n…” zaia whispered, standing slowly. “you look… beautiful.”

y/n spun in front of the mirror, her lips curving into a small smile. “you think? i feel like a princess or something.”

“a queen,” zaia corrected, her eyes warm. “green is definitely your color.”

the cousins agreed, pulling out their phones to snap pictures, laughter filling the space again as one of them adjusted y/n’s gele, making sure it sat perfectly.

but then, just as everything settled, zaia’s expression shifted—her lips parting slightly, her eyes suddenly glassy.

y/n froze, her heart thudding. “zaia, are you… crying?”

zaia laughed through her tears, wiping her face quickly. “sorry, i’ve just been… emotional lately. it’s ridiculous.”

concern flickered across y/n’s face. “are you okay? should i call cash?” she asked, already reaching for her phone.

zaia grabbed her wrist gently, shaking her head. “no, no—don’t call him. actually, there’s… something we were going to tell you together today, but…” her voice cracked. “i can’t wait. i need you to know now.”

y/n’s breath caught. “zaia, what is it?”

zaia hesitated for just a moment before the words tumbled out in a rush. “i’m pregnant.” her voice shook as she spoke, a soft sob escaping her lips. “you’re the first person i’ve told.”

the world tilted slightly, y/n’s mind struggling to catch up. her eyes welled up instantly, her hand flying to her mouth. “zaia… are you serious?”

zaia nodded, tears streaming down her face. “i’ve been dying to tell you. cash and i were going to do it together, but… i couldn’t wait. i needed you to know.”

y/n almost buckled at the weight of it, rushing forward to wrap zaia in a tight hug, their bodies trembling together as tears fell freely.

“oh my god,” y/n whispered against her shoulder, her voice thick with emotion. “i’m so happy for you. you’re going to be the most amazing mom. i can’t believe this.”

zaia laughed through her sobs, clutching y/n tighter. “thank you. i was so nervous, but… hearing you say that makes me feel like everything’s going to be okay.”

y/n pulled back just enough to cup zaia’s face, wiping her tears gently. her own tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t care. “it is going to be okay. more than okay. and i’ll be here with you every step of the way, you hear me?”

zaia nodded, sniffling. “i hear you.”

a beat of silence passed, warm and steady, before y/n laughed softly, shaking her head. “i’m gonna be the best aunt.”

zaia’s smile brightened, her eyes sparkling. “god mother. we want you to be the baby’s godmother.”

the words hung in the air for a second, heavy and beautiful.

y/n’s mouth fell open, her hand flying to her chest. “zaia… are you serious?”

“of course,” zaia said, her voice cracking again. “there’s no one else it could be.”

the tears returned full force, and y/n hugged her again, clutching her tightly. “i love you so much,” she whispered.

“i love you too,” zaia said softly.

and as they stood there, wrapped in their own little world, y/n knew this moment would stay with her forever—a reminder that love came in all forms, steady and unwavering, right when you needed it most.

y/n pulled into trent’s driveway, the car’s headlights casting long shadows on the driveway. her pulse quickened, but it wasn’t just from the excitement of seeing him again. she had needed to be near him, to escape the overwhelming sense of closeness she had felt at the fitting. the laughter, the hugs, the anticipation of her best friend’s wedding... it had all left her with a bittersweet ache in her chest. she had been happy, but it only highlighted how much she longed for something deeper, more intimate, something to anchor her in the midst of the swirling love and joy.

when the door opened, trent stood there, casual in a hoodie and sweatpants, looking effortlessly perfect. his eyes immediately locked onto hers, searching her face with that familiar intensity.

“have you been crying?” his voice softened, the concern obvious in his eyes.

y/n gave a half-smile, blinking rapidly to hold back any more tears. “happy tears,” she said, but there was a lingering tremor in her voice. “it was a good day. zaia’s wedding is really coming together.”

trent didn't look convinced. he reached for her hand, pulling her into the warmth of the house without saying another word. the house was quiet, cozy, and comforting in a way only trent’s home could be.

“you sure you’re okay?” trent asked again, his voice low and calm as he led her to the living room. “you’ve got that look.”

“i’m fine,” y/n insisted, brushing it off as she sat down beside him on the couch. “i just didn’t feel like being alone after everything. thought i’d come here, you know?”

trent settled beside her, his arm easily wrapping around her, pulling her closer. they both sank into the couch, the soft fabric of the cushions embracing them like a cocoon. y/n rested her head on his chest, and for a moment, all she could hear was the steady thud of his heartbeat, a calming rhythm she found herself syncing with.

there was something comforting about the way trent always seemed to know when she needed him. the way he held her without question, without hesitation. it made her feel like she belonged, even if it was only for this moment. he gently stroked her back, a slow, soothing motion that made her feel safe.

“you looked really beautiful tonight, you know?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “something about you in that dress—it was like you were glowing. i could see it. i mean, i always think you look good, but tonight was... different.”

y/n chuckled softly, her lips brushing against his chest. “i wasn’t even planning to go, but i’m glad i did. you’re sweet for saying that.”

they sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the crackle of the fire in the corner of the room and the soft music playing in the background. but after a while, y/n shifted, her thoughts swirling again. her mind wandered to the wedding, to the love in the room, to the future that seemed so certain for her friends and family... and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that clung to her heart.

“do you ever think about getting married?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost hesitant as she gazed up at him, her face just inches from his.

trent’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise, his hand pausing mid-motion on her back. “where did that come from?”

y/n shrugged, forcing a lighthearted smile. “well, not to me, not like that,” she joked quickly, but there was an edge of something deeper to her words. “i mean, in general, you know?”

he leaned back, his eyes scanning her face as if trying to read something between the lines. after a moment of hesitation, he nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “yeah, i’ve thought about it. when the right person comes along, i guess.”

there was a slight pause, a quiet moment where they both seemed to be waiting for something unspoken. trent’s eyes softened as he considered the idea, his mind drifting.

y/n waited, but when he didn’t speak, she tilted her head, looking up at him curiously. “what? no ‘you’ in there?” she teased lightly.

“well...” he paused again, as if the thought had just occurred to him. and yet, as he imagined the life he might want, he couldn’t picture it with anyone but her. it was as if she had always been there in the background of his mind, the one constant he never truly acknowledged until now.

he imagined waking up beside her on lazy mornings, the sound of her laughter filling their shared home as they made breakfast together. he saw the two of them walking hand in hand through a park on a crisp autumn afternoon, with the warmth of their connection tangible, unshakable. he imagined late nights in their living room, surrounded by books, papers, and random ideas, sharing thoughts, dreams, and fears.

he imagined them growing old together—her smile still as bright, her laugh still as contagious, but the lines of age marking their faces, evidence of a life well-lived. he couldn’t picture a future without her, without the way she made him feel: grounded, loved, understood.

“i can only picture you, y/n,” he wanted to say quietly, his voice filled with a raw sincerity that surprised him. “when i think about spending my life with someone... it’s you. i can’t see anyone else. maybe that sounds crazy, but it’s just the truth.”

“yeah,” he settled on, his voice softer now. “when the right person comes along, i guess.”

y/n felt a rush of warmth in her chest, her heart swelling in a way she hadn’t expected. “i used to think it wasn’t in the cards for me,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of his shirt absentmindedly. “like maybe love and marriage... it wasn’t for me. i thought i wasn’t lovable enough for something like that.”

trent’s heart ached at her words, and without thinking, he pulled her closer, brushing his lips against her forehead. “you’re more than enough, y/n. you’re everything. never think you’re anything less than that.”

her breath caught again, the tears threatening to return. but she fought them back, focusing on his words, on the warmth of his arms around her.

“i don’t know,” she whispered. “maybe marriage is possible. maybe... maybe it’s something i can see for myself now. maybe with the right person.”

trent’s hand cupped her face gently, lifting her gaze to meet his. “you’re never going to be alone, y/n. not with me.”

the sincerity in his voice was almost too much, and y/n swallowed hard, feeling overwhelmed by everything. but it felt right. being here with him, in his arms, feeling safe, feeling loved.

she smiled softly. “thanks for always being here for me.”

“always,” trent whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead again.

they sat there in silence, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air, but there was something peaceful in it, too. for the first time in a long time, y/n felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone in the world. maybe, just maybe, she was meant for more than she had ever believed.

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