#and the one i actually want to romance is completely locked out

[blackjackkent]

OK so. I'm doing some research and it does seem like I might indeed have bugged out Karlach's romance by not recruiting her in time to fix her heart the first time in Act I. (Reddit poster indicates that only getting the option to hug and not kiss her when she gets the second upgrade means that you're SOL.)

This sucks.

As I see it, I have a couple options here:

Replay Hector's entire game and get the romance scenes in Act I.

Finish the game with no romance.

Hack the game with console commands.

#1 would be a bummer because I have enjoyed writing Hector's slow-burn interest developing and I feel like it makes a lot more sense for him to be properly falling for her now. And I don't want to undo all the writing I've already done.

#2 is also a bummer for obvious reasons.

#3, however, is intriguing. The aforementioned Reddit poster went on to say this:

This seems promising! I'm going to give this a try. It would entail rewriting that one particular scene (or just skipping it and pretending the kiss at that point didn't happen) but otherwise doesn't really have to change anything, I think, and would fit solidly with Hector's existing story.

Wish me luck! Diving into the console world. [puts on hacker glasses]

[rookinthecrownest]

Some Updated Thoughts on Lucanis' Romance (Both Positive & Constructive)

I want to make this as balanced and as reasonable a take as I can. I'll put everything under the cut and tag as critical so you don't have to engage with it/see it if you don't want to.

As usual, these are just my opinions. If you really enjoyed Lucanis' romance, none of what I'm about to say is meant to dissuade you from that. I'm happy for you!! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. There were parts of it that I absolutely loved too, and I hope I'll do that justice with this post so it doesn't come across as hate. Because I don't hate his romance, I just think there was some places where it could have been fleshed out a bit more.

If you want to engage in discussion with the more critical aspects of this post, my only request is you do so respectfully.

Positives

I'd like to start on a good note by detailing the aspects of his romance that I really liked. There are a few places where I think they did a great job with his romance.

Party Banter & Codex Entries

Although meant to be supplemental material to the story, I think they do a really good job at helping the slow-burn aspect of his romance they were going for. There's one codex entry that goes something along the lines of 'It is not an hour lost, but an hour found' and that is one of my favourite codex entries....ever. It's such a short entry but so meaningful and shows you a lot about his character. You get this profound sense of just how much Rook means to him with this one line.

His party banter once you're in a relationship is also very sweet. I didn't get a lot of it, but what I did get was lovely. Especially when he admits to Neve that Rook is good for him and makes him smile. There's another line about how he doesn't know what Rook sees in him, but he's happy they're with him which is super sweet. Telling Emmrich how Rook is his first relationship? Adorable.

Everything about the party banter and codex entries did a good job of giving us more insight into how his character is dealing with things, when it's not explicitly shown to us in cutscenes (We'll come back to this later). It helps form a more complete picture of the way they wanted to handle this romance in general.

Relationship Cutscenes

There's a few scenes throughout the romance that I enjoyed a lot.

The scene with Illario at Cafe Pietra and the talk of first kisses and kisses goodbye was very cute and well done. It really did feel like a coffee date haha.

The almost-kiss scene was also amazing. The confident stride towards Rook, the wall-lean, his facial expression when he pulls away. You can feel how much he wants it, but something in the back of his mind (whether it's him, or Spite) pulls him away at the last second? I loved that. I'm actually super glad they didn't kiss here. The pull away made for great tension (I'm going to come back to why this is important later).

His line about Rook breaking apart his 'perfectly gathered clouds of doom' was beautiful, and one of my favourite lines in the game.

Although there could have been more to it, his romance lock-in scene with him baking dessert for Rook is also sweet and shows his romantic side and thoughtfulness.

The ending scene of the romance, after Rook comes out of the Fade Prison, is some of my favourite romance scenes in any Bioware game. Any game, period. It was so incredibly well done. From the writing, to the dialogue, to the facial expressions - absolutely everything was perfect. The wings coming out, the fade to black, the banter about falling asleep and playing cards with Spite? Lovely. All absolutely lovely. 10/10, no notes.

His dialogue about killing any god to keep Rook safe is very sweet/romantic. How he wants Rook to tell them this all ends with him asleep in their arms. How Rook's voice is a comfort. This was SO beautiful.

All in all, in some places, I feel that they did achieve the slow burn they wanted with his romance. Even excelled at it, really.

Constructive Criticism

I'm just going to re-iterate that while this section may be longer than the positives, it comes from a place of love rather than just wanting to hate for the sake of hating. I've been a fan of this character ever since I picked up Tevinter Nights, and was looking forward to his romance the most.

The Neve Situation

I'm going to get this one out of the way first because it's probably one of the more.... contentious points in this discussion.

Besties, I need you all to hold my hand so tightly as I say this, but absolutely none of my frustration with the Neve/Lucanis thing is to be construed as hate towards Neve. In fact, I love Neve. I've been a fan of her since she appeared in the comics. I loved her in Tevinter Nights. I love her in the game, I can't wait to romance her. I don't have a problem with these two characters getting together if Rook is not romancing either of them. That being said, there are a few things about his interactions with Neve if romanced by Rook that I can see why they would rub people the wrong way (and why they rub me the wrong way a little bit too).

-Neve and Lucanis can still flirt after Lucanis is locked into a romance with Rook. This is a pretty big oversight from the devs. Its no secret that characters will romance each other if not in a romance with the player character. It happened in DA2 with Fenris/Isabela, in DAI with Josephine/Blackwall, Sera/Dagna, and Bull/Dorian. In ME, I believe it happens with Garrus and Tali as well. So, I don't think the simple fact that they can get together is really what's bothering people.

Importantly, unlike previous games, once the player character is locked into a romance with the other party, the LI doesn't flirt with other companions. I think if the devs had locked the flirting once Lucanis is locked in with romance, much of this conversation wouldn't even be happening.

DATV is a role-playing game. Nothing would take someone out of a role-playing game faster than their love-interest being flirty with another companion - and understandably so. It just feels...icky? Like your player character is getting in the way of a ship the writers wanted. I don't think it's unreasonable for someone to not want to feel like a third wheel in their own romance.

-In Lucanis' mind-prison quest, even if he's romanced by Rook, Neve will still appear. The way Spite describes her seems to imply he still has some sort of romantic feelings for her. Which.... yikes (but this may also just be the way I read his line). If he's not romanced by Rook, Neve being here would make sense. There's not even a mention about Rook in a note or anything. Spite has one line about Rook opening doors and not closing them but that's about it. There's no special romance reactivity in this scene, even though it happens pretty late in the game and after the romance-lock in. Afterwards, he says he trusts you with his thoughts, which is sweet. But this should have been in the cutscene - not skippable banter at the LightHouse.

Set Up & Pay-off

This is a fundamental aspect of storytelling I'm sure you're all familiar with. The classic Chekov's gun. Don't set up something you don't plan to pay off.

Let's go back to the almost-kiss. They set up some fantastic romantic tension here. If you go see Lucanis again after this scene, I think he has a line along the lines of "I'm sorry Rook... I can't ..." But that's all we get. And the almost-kiss isn't really addressed again. Actually I wouldn't even call this being addressed in the first place, because if you wait too long to see him after that cutscene it may not trigger in the first place. This is probably the most egregious example of wasted set up with no pay off. There's no discussion about it. There's no cutscene of Lucanis talking to another companion, or even having some kind of internal monologue about it.

Another example of set up & pay-off is after confronting Illario. Lucanis says he has a plan to celebrate instead of sticking around at the party.

Cut to him drinking coffee by himself back at the Lighthouse.

Rook & Lucanis could have sneaked off to Cafe Pietra, or gone walking in the Treviso market. Or hell, taken the Gondola ride that was in the concept art. Or kissed in the rain under an awning. (I'm never getting over that concept art they showed us...)

The conversation about sparing Illario, how he doesn't want to lose what he has left, including Rook, is fine. But I feel this was another wasted opportunity.

The romance lock-in scene is another example of a missed opportunity/failed set-up. It doesn't even feel like a romance lock-in to a lot of people. If so many players think their game is bugged because that's how you lock in the romance, I think there's a problem. You go from almost kissing to a full on relationship. There is so much that can happen in between that (none of which has to be physical intimacy btw) which could have helped make the lock in scene make more sense. It's the same scene as the one with Neve - but almost...done worse?

Having coffee with Spite & Lucanis. This one is more a writing issue. At the end of the scene he stands awkwardly next to Rook and says, "Whatever this is, I'll take it" and I couldn't help but feel... the writers really just didn't know what they wanted to accomplish with this scene. 'Whatever this is' could have been 'I don't know what this is yet or what to call it, but whatever it is, I want to see it through with you' or something along those lines. Astarion actually says something similar in one of his romance scenes, but he holds your hand, looks at Tav earnestly, and says "Honestly, I don't know what we're doing. But this...this is nice..". He doesn't put a name to the relationship either, but it's the way he says it and how it's conveyed that make it a more effective scene.

He's been imprisoned for a year. He was made into an abomination. He doesn't sleep. He's dealing with PTSD probably. He's a romantic at heart but needs to learn to trust again. It makes sense that he's not overly flirty with Rook, and the romance isn't very physical. This is all FINE.

BUT.

While I listed the codex entries & party banter as a positive (because I do like it), I feel that they leaned too heavily on that for the romance.

Let's contrast Lucanis' romance to Cullen's romance in DAI. After all, Cullen has also gone through some pretty traumatic shit and is literally struggling with Lyrium addiction when you meet him in Inquisition. I want you to remove all of Cullen's side-banter about the inquisitor, all party banter about their relationship, and all the codex entries. When you watch the cutscenes of his romance in order, you are still left with a solid romance. If you're a mage, you even get some heartbreaking mage-specific dialogue about whether or not he'd cut you down if you ever become an abomination.... And I'm getting off topic here, sorry.

My point is, these things are meant to be extra. They are not supposed to be the way you piece together bits of your own relationship and a substitute for companion interaction. And here is where I think DATV's choice not to let you randomly talk to your companions really hurts it as a game.

Romance Reactivity

There's a few points in the game where romance-specific dialogue would have really helped solidify things.

No, I don't mean flirting. I mean dialogue that reads like he's struggling with building the relationship - not bulldozing right past it. It makes the romance-specific dialogue wheel options feel rather useless.

One example is during one of his personal quests, Rook says

"I'm still here aren't I"

No facial reaction, "We need to talk about Illario"

You can see how this is a bit ... jarring, right? Like you may as well have not even picked the romance-specific dialogue? There's a few instances of this, but that one is just the one I can recall off the top of my head. When I pick the romance-specific dialogue wheel in Bioware games, there's always something about the response from the other character that indicates something more might be going on - it could be something as simple as a nervous smile, or an extra line of dialogue, or hell, maybe they flirt back (although with Lucanis I understand why he wouldn't).

If you're not going to show romance reactivity with Rook, give us a scene with Lucanis where we understand why. Show him fumbling to do something nice for them. Show him pacing and wondering if Rook is really into him. Show him struggling against Spite, if he's worried Spite will hurt Rook. Don't just tell us through codex entries. Show us.

Miscellaneous Sentiments & Final Thoughts

On the whole, I genuinely feel like Lucanis has the least content out of all the companions. Maybe it's because they laid off Courtney Woods & Mary Kirby, maybe there's another reason. I don't know. But so often I found myself going back to the Lighthouse wanting to talk to Lucanis but there's no little indicator thingy for him. But every time I go back Davrin, Harding, Bellara, etc. all have something to say.

We should have had an opportunity to delve a little bit more into his relationship with his family, unpacked the stuff with Caterina & Illario a bit more, and unpacked him being made First Talon. Which, if you read Tevinter Nights, you know he actually doesn't want the job. If they weren't going to include it as a cutscene, then extra dialogue (a-la-Inquisition) would have been a good place to fit that in.

On the whole, I still like aspects of his romance. I'm looking forward to romancing him again. I just feel that the romance could have benefitted from even 1 or 2 extra small scenes. If I can go on 1000 walks in the forest with Davrin and Assan, I should be able to have a real conversation with Lucanis about the relationship, his hangups about it, and try and work through it.

Keep the almost-kiss in there. An extra kiss before the finale would have been fine, but not necessary. What was necessary, imo, is a whooole lot of buildup throughout the course of Act 2 so it doesn't feel like you're getting whiplash in Act 3 when you do kiss and have the implied sex scene.

I think the concept art that was recently released feels like a gut punch to us Lucanis fans. Because it shows that Bioware had the skeleton of a great romance, and chose to axe nearly all of it.

It really feels like they didn't quite know what to do with his character and romance and just said 'put it all in the codex and banter and let them figure it out for themselves'.

Quick Notes

The argument that we should 'run to AO3' to fix our issues with the narrative, to me, is unproductive. Fanfiction should supplement the source material, not act as a replacement for good storytelling.

I don't think telling people to headcanon a majority of a romance they were looking forward to is helpful either. Headcanon is not supposed to replace storytelling either.

Boiling down the criticisms of Lucanis' romance to 'you just want more steam/sex/etc' is also unhelpful. Maybe it's just who I follow, but I have barely seen anyone (on here or reddit) state that this is their main problem with the romance.

Okay, that's it!

Bye!

[lurochar]

Bad Habit

So I recently read somewhere that Alastor pulls out his hair as a stress reliever? Not sure if it's actually canon, but I thought it was interesting, so here we are!

---------------------------------------

You feel bad, guilty.

Horrible even.

It is why you are currently sitting on Alastor’s bed, waiting for him to come back from wherever he had disappeared into the shadows.

It was okay, Alastor had given you permission to come into his room and the magic that served as his room's lock allowed your presence inside, despite how uncomfortable you felt being in the room regardless.

It hadn't been the first time you had turned down his offers of protection, companionship, and whatever else you desired. If you wanted, he would grant it to you.

Was that worth your soul?

You were scared, terrified even though Alastor assured you again, again, and again that he would never abuse your soul and it would be his greatest treasure. Hell, he had even written a contract of rules on himself pertaining what he could and couldn't do to your soul.

And tired of being frightened by this overwhelming strange one-sided courtship, you fled.

You weren't sure why Alastor allowed you to flee to begin with, perhaps he was giving you space to sort out your thoughts, but you had unconsciously glanced back towards him when you did run.

You had never seen such an expression like that on Alastor’s face before.

You couldn’t get that expression out of your mind and so, only a few hours later, you found yourself in the last place you wanted to be: Alastor’s bedroom.

Still, you couldn't describe that expression.

Irritation, anger, vexedness, longing, agitation, hunger, stress?

It floored you that Alastor could even feel so many of those emotions considering you knew his background. It stunned you even further he felt them for you since you believed he was interested in you because you were the only female deer demon – the only doe – in his territory.

Was Alastor interested in you beyond your demonic characteristics?

You jump when the shadows in the room flicker around and Alastor materializes, clearly taken back by your presence as he takes a step backwards when his red eyes land on you.

You stand from the bed, ready to apologize. “Alastor, I'm sorry about tod–” You pause, eyes widening when you notice something. “Y-your hair…!”

A large chunk of his hair is missing. It looks as though it's been torn out.

“Did you get into a fight?!” You quickly move towards him to get a better look, vaguely noting Alastor’s smile is tight and he almost resembles a trapped animal with his tense posture. “Are you hurt anywhere else, Alastor?”

Alastor stares down at your sweet concerned face and almost lets a sigh escape him. “I am fine, my dear Doe.” He resists the urge to bristle defensively when you try to get closer to where his hair is torn. “I did not go on a rampage today.”

You blink. “If… if you didn't fight anyone, what happened?” You looked back to his hair and winced. It looked painful.

Alastor’s smile widens to grotesque proportions. “I did this to myself.” His eyes watched you heatedly as you stumbled back in shock at his confession. “It's a bit of a habit, you see. I tend to rip out my hair when I'm feeling stressed to the point that even slaughter will not relieve it.”

Your ears drop.

“I never thought you would run from me, dearest. Now tell me,” Alastor’s hands are creeping up towards his head as his eyes cloud with fervour, “why are you so afraid of me?”

“Alastor!” You rush forward, clumsily pressing yourself against him and grabbing his hands with yours before he can tug at his hair again. You lace your fingers with his longer ones, feeling your face burn hotly as your body shook nervously. “W-why do you need my soul? Can't we do it all without me giving you my soul?”

Alastor tightens his fingers around yours. “I admit I am a complete novice in the area of… romance,  but is it not a romantic gesture? I would give you my soul if I were able.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh and Alastor raises a brow. “If that's what you think, then you have thousands of spouses already, including Husk.” You snicker again when Alastor’s eye twitches. 

“Husker.” Alastor utters in disbelief. “My spouse?” He looks as though he just swallowed rotten meat.

“Romance can be almost anything if the partner appreciates it.” You smile. “A flower. A walk together. Dinner with each other. Stargazing. Anything really as long as you enjoy their company.”

Alastor raises your hand slowly towards his lips and you shiver (and not from fear) as he places a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “My lovely Doe, would you care to accompany me on a walk in my bayou?”

Your face softens as your eyes move towards Alastor’s missing chunk of hair. “As long as you come talk to me when you get to that point again. I don't want you hurting yourself, especially over me.”

“It's not a big deal, Darling. My hair will be grown back by tomorrow morning.” Alastor lets out a hum at your glare. “But I suppose I can if you wish.”

As long as he got his sweet Doe in the end.

[chanafehs]

My Veilguard review:

Note - I will be honest in saying this is very long and very negative. If you enjoy this game please don't let me be the one to ruin that for you and skip on this post. I will be discussing spoilers. This is just my opinion so please don't crucify me for it.

I think my thoughts about this game were shaky to begin with as I had been exposed to different spoilers and information before the launch. I wasn’t actually expecting this game to be amazing but as someone whose favorite Dragon Age game is Dragon Age 2, which is arguably the weakest in the series (until now), I still went in with the impression I would have a good time regardless. I did not have that at all, in fact towards the end of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3 all I wanted was for the game to be over. 

The problems for me really started right in the beginning with the Inquisitor character choices and their characterization. No choices for your Warden, no choices for your Hawke, and only three choices for your Inquisitor out of the dozens you made in Inquisition. The romance option just felt like a very polite way of asking if you romanced Solas or not, especially after completing the game where your non-solas romance will only get one letter for you to read, outside of that, the Inquisitor will not even mention them. Disbanding the Inquisition meant basically nothing and vowing to stop Solas felt like it had little bearing on what my Inquisitor said when she showed up. 

The time frame to make Dragon Age 2 was just over a year and somehow included more choices from Origins than Veilguard did with over ten years of production. That is the information that's been banging around in my head throughout this entire game. In Dragon Age 2, we get the consequences of our decisions with Alistair’s fate and we get extra dialogue concerning Isabela/Zevran/Leliana/Anders/Nathaniel + some sidequests. Veilguard couldn’t even give us so much of a mention of our Inquisitor’s friendships and the consequences of those friendships outside of Solas. The Inquisitors themselves are locked into one personality type as well, and regardless if you choose to stop Solas or not, they are very amicable toward him. 

During the second cut scene you get with the Inquisitor in Dock Town, they will go on to ask you about your progress and then go on about Solas. Mind you, my Inquisitor is extremely unsympathetic to Solas and I chose the option to stop him no matter what, so why is it that every time I speak to her, she keeps trying to ask me if Solas is being genuine and that he was her friend? That doesn’t sound like someone who has vowed to stop him. They will also try to draw parallels between you, Rook, and Solas. Even at the end of the game, they will still try to appeal to you to see reason with him. That is essentially all the Inquisitor is there for. Incredibly frustrating. 

Throughout the game you will get missives from the Inquisitor detailing the devastation that is being brought to southern Thedas and every letter feels like more and more of an insult. To keep it short: Southern Thedas as we know it has been essentially wiped out. I think that deserves more than a footnote in some missive most players aren’t even going to see.

So the setting we spent all three games in, that we saved countless times, had our companions and protagonists die for, gets demolished in the background where we cannot see it. Skyhold had to be taken back from demons and whoops, that's not actually something you can do anything about. Nothing the Warden, Hawke, or the Inquisitor ever did mattered at all and it renders everything from the previous games absolutely irrelevant. 

With that aside, the companions are also another issue for me. I found myself having trouble getting attached to any of them and every single time I recruited one I had the internal question “Why are you even here?” None of their companion quests really tie into the story at large, save maybe Harding and Davrin, and they are incredibly boring save for a few cool moments.

The main appeal of Dragon Age for me is the companions, it’s why Dragon Age 2 is my favorite of the series. Despite the overused environments and the rushed production I still had a great time with it because of the companions. I was actually eager to do the companion quests and learn more about them and how they all fit into the main narrative. Even characters I didn’t like, I still understood why they were important to the story. Like I can’t stand Anders but I know why he is there, he has a purpose.

Every companion is painfully amicable towards you even if you decide to be “stern” towards them. I found myself not caring what dialogue option I chose about them because it made absolutely no difference. There is nice, funny nice, and gentle parenting. That is really all you have to work with in terms of the dialogue wheel. It was more difficult to get disapproval than approval and I can probably count on my fingers every time in this game I actually got companion disapproval. There is only one companion in my playthrough that became hardened, Lucanis, and it had virtually no impact on his character other than the fact he leaves for a couple of saves and comes back to kissing your ass. 

Something I actually really liked about BG3 and the previous Dragon Age games was working for your companion approval - this meant actually learning about your companion and what made them tick. If you don't understand them well enough you get disapproval, when you actually listen to their ideas and thoughts you get approval - there is an active effort to get these things. In Veilguard this does not exist and you are essentially promised approval no matter what, meaning there is no encouragement to know who these people are if they're just going to support you regardless.

I have to agree with the Skillup review they made about this game saying that every dialogue option feels like it was made with HR in the room and I one hundred percent agree. This is not how real people talk to each other. This is how teachers talk to toddlers when they want to explain the virtues of sharing toys with their classmates.

It felt honestly insulting at times to be treated like I don’t understand the concept of bigotry, I still have no idea what they were trying to go for with this, like were they trying to appeal to a market of high school boys who hadn’t discovered what empathy was yet? There is zero trust in the player and every dialogue and decision you make in these moments feels handhold-y and preachy. Like Pixar levels of life lessons you learn.

In the moments where I had to settle arguments over coffee and companions not respecting each other's interests, I could not honestly believe this is the same universe with Loghain Mac Tir, Meredith Stannard, fuck even Corypheus. Humor has always existed in Dragon Age and I love the comedic banter between the characters but it was always humor that served as an escape from the oppressive and dark situation around you, here the dark and oppressive situations feel like an escape from the unrelenting friendliness and tone deafness of your companions. 

The companion I probably had the most issue with was Taash and the way they were handled. I’m not going to get too deep into the Bharv scene because even thinking about it makes me cringe but If someone messed up my pronouns and then immediately dropped to do pushups I am most definitely killing us both. Isabela’s explanation is extremely preachy and she proceeds to do the exact thing she says she hates about people messing up pronouns. Anyways. Moving on. 

Taash I think is a good example of how to not write a multiethnic character. I don’t expect a white person like Trick Weekes to understand the first thing that comes with being multiethnic or having strict parents that intersects with that identity but it is most definitely not whatever the hell this is. 

The only thing I can offer here is that as a multiethnic person (my father is Palestinian and my mother is mainly Irish and Seminole) is that there has never been a point in my life where I felt like I had to choose what culture I am let alone give that choice to someone else in my life I just met.

That’s not what being multiethnic is. I do not have to choose between anything - I am whole and I don't need to cut myself into halves and quarters to be accepted.

It also feels subconsciously like you are supposed to choose Rivain as the Qunari are depicted as bigoted and oppressive as they always have been in this game. Knowing all of this really tainted my experiences with them as a character and I understand a lot of other non-binary individuals love the representation they brought on that level but personally, I’m just tired of “queer representation” always coming with racist undertones. Again, this game feels like it always had white queer people in mind, not lgbt poc. 

These kinds of comments are really only made worse knowing what the Qunari take inspiration from - primarily Black and Brown SWANA Muslims. Why should Trick Weekes have any authority over a questline like that is beyond me. 

Also, this sucked. Especially because they said it to Neve too. I don’t really want my non-binary representation sprinkled with Misogyny as well, especially since we can’t really call Taash out on this comment unless you’re playing a woman (as far as I know).

Aside from Taash, I thought the writing around Harding was strange. Don’t me wrong, I love Harding, but I do not remember her being this friendly and people-pleasing in the Inquisition. If you play as a Dalish elf the first thing she says is she’s surprised that you would care about anyone else - there is absolutely no inclination of this kind of perspective in Veilguard. Additionally, despite knowing everything Solas has done and the consequences that had on her ancestors, she still tries to push you to reason with him?

All of her quests about learning about the Titans, experiencing and embracing their anger, and you still want to appeal to Solas? That was another thing I found so weird about this game, throughout the entire story you are being told again and again that Solas cannot be trusted, he is to blame for everything, and will stab you in the back and yet it seems like every companion tries to push back on you if you agree with this viewpoint? 

Also, something I didn't know at this point of the game but I do now is that Solas had killed Varric and she does know this so why is she acting like this knowing Solas had killed her friend who she spent years with?

Genuinely this whole game felt like: Devs: Solas is a villain

Rook: okay understood

Devs: actually nvm you don't understand him if you think he's a villain

The only companion quests I was actually genuinely interested in were Emmrich and his thoughts around death and becoming a lich. Lucanis' quests had the best boss fights for sure. Outside of that, it felt like “Go here with Bellara” or “Go here with Taash” and it got so grating I couldn’t wait for these quests to be over so I could progress with the main story. It felt like an annoying back-and-forth game to finish a main quest just to finish all the companion quests and then go back to the main quest. Like a list of chores to get through before you can have any fun. 

The inclusion of characters like Morrigan and Isabela in this universe was extremely hollow and they do not feel like the Morrigan and Isabela we know at all. With Morrigan there is a bit of an explanation to this with the essence of Mythal however she reiterates that it is still herself and it is only the memories of Mythal that remain inside of her.

In my canon playthroughs of Dragon Age, I romanced both Morrigan and Isabela, so I was curious to see how the developers would address their pasts with our Warden and Hawke. Unfortunately, the answer is that they don’t address it at all. Morrigan hardly mentions her past, leaving us to wonder if Kieran even exists. The game implies that the relationship between Morrigan and the Warden is insignificant; a codex entry oddly suggests, in a very slut-shamey way, that Morrigan had more lovers than there are trees in the forest. Isabela doesn't reference Hawke either, as she fondly remembers Kirkwall for found family and friendship. It seems that if you romanced Isabela or Morrigan, congratulations—your canon doesn’t exist.

I will echo the statement others have made about all the cameos feeling like mascots because that is really what they are. There is no substance to any of them, Isabela only feels like she is there to be a supportive voice for Taash, Morrigan will only really talk about Solas and Mythal-Dorian is the only one who actually gets a substantial quest related to him. I thought he was fine minus the "illegal slavery" bit because what is illegal slavery Dorian. Next up we will discuss legal murder.

Another thing that genuinely broke the immersion for me in this game is how awful the armor is. It is a Dragon Age game so I wasn't expecting Haute Couture but the design is all over the place and nothing looks right. Not to mention the extremely weird orientalist undertones that follow the Lords of Fortune everywhere. The outfit Isabela is wearing is even worse in person and I tried to give this game the benefit of the doubt by thinking we would be getting some underwater mission with her and that would be the explanation behind her bikini outfit - this did not happen.

The belly dancer-esque outfits with the coin-bedazzled turbans were pretty egregious and made me want to limit my time in Rivain as much as possible. For a game released in 2024, I am disappointed we are still dealing with the same Orientalist fantasy tropes. Even the Qunari are more naked in this game than I had ever seen previously. At least DA2 and DAI gave them pants. But hey the Antaam are all blighted and evil so who cares right.

Speaking of the Antaam, a lot of the antagonist motivations for this game genuinely did not make sense to me. The Antaam are suddenly giving up their fear of magic to pair up with...the Venatori? To fight for the elven gods? It honestly felt like they had no idea who to make fight for the Evanuris so they just pulled two of the baddies from the Inquisition and went "We can just use them and call it done". When you press for information on why this is the answer is always a mustache-twirling dialogue about power. Nothing much deeper from that than any of the villains besides Solas. All of the villains, especially Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, are extremely one-dimensional and have no motivations other than being evil and striving for power. At least Corypheus had cool lines.

I'm not going to get too deep into lore changes since I know a lot of things happened in the comics, books, and TV show (all of which I did not read or watch) but I honestly do think it's a bad idea to have a "soft reboot" while needing to read several books to understand everything. That's not being welcoming to new players that's homework. If you wanted a soft reboot probably don't start off with half your plot and characters coming from various comics and novels people need to catch up on.

The portrayal of the Dalish in this game is inconsistent. When we inform them that their gods are evil and planning to overthrow the world, they respond, "Okay, heard you." How can they accept this explanation so readily? In previous interactions, Solas shared that the Dalish did not listen to him and even threatened him when he revealed this truth. Yet, when we present the same information, they believe us almost immediately. Is there no pushback or skepticism? The Dalish accept everything about the evil elven gods meanwhile Andraste’s followers remain completely unaffected by these revelations.

I think what frustrated me even more was watching our elven companions express grief and regret over the actions of the elven gods like they had something to do with it, painting the Dalish as adjacent to oppressors when they themselves are oppressed in every way. The only thing that remains consistent is the sad boy Solas act about it.

At the end of the game, two of my companions - Harding and Emmrich- were killed. Emmrich's death was unfortunately overshadowed by a zoom-in on a rock and I had no idea he had died until I got the popup. Still, all I can think about is just going "Rock moment" when he died. I don't really have anything negative to say about Harding's death other than the way she went out was fitting for her narrative. Bellara got blighted and there were no consequences for this and she walked away from it - forgive me but I am still under the DAO impression that if you get blighted that's game over but all the rules about the Blight have been changed in this.

I decided to trick Solas, and honestly, I don’t have anything negative to say about it, except that Solas should have noticed me holding the fake dagger since it was clearly in his line of sight. I liked the idea of outsmarting the god of trickery. While it wasn’t extremely satisfying, but I’m okay with how it turned out.

Even as the credits began rolling I still have trouble believing rook's role in any of this. Just the persistent nagging idea that they really just have no place in this story at all. In the beginning I wanted to see how Rook is looped into all of this and how they become central to the fight against Solas but just like with most of the companions, I have no idea why they are here. This should've been the Inquisitor's story to finish.

I'm not going to pretend that everything about this game was irredeemable and terrible. There were genuinely parts I enjoyed and had a good time with. The romance ending scene with Neve was fantastic, even though it took a long time to get there. Davrin was an unexpected aspect of the game that I actually liked, as I never cared much for Grey Wardens before, but he changed my perspective. Harding's mention of the Inquisition was also very sweet. Although I wasn't particularly invested in Emmrich, I loved the conclusion to his quest when he became a lich lord.

While I'm not the biggest Solas fan, I actually really enjoyed the cutscenes between him and Rook because one of my aims with this game was the ability to be mean to Solas and kick him while he was down. They definitely delivered there even though everyone else kept disagreeing with me.

The worlds are beautiful and the CC is definitely the best we've gotten in any Dragon Age game, I spent probably a solid hour in there. The hairstyles are great and the four unibrow choices? Bioware you shouldn't have <3.

Overall I definitely didn't have the best time with this game and towards the end of act 2 I was incredibly bored and the combat became repetitive and stagnant enough that I turned down the difficulty to get through it faster. I can't see myself replaying this any time soon and I am unsure what my stance on Dragon Age is now, do I Ignore this game ever existed or do I carve out everything I liked and pretend this is the Dragon Age I love? I have no idea, I am disappointed at how this game leaves us off and I really wanted to sit here and say It's good but I can't.

I think this game will reach out to and resonate with a different group of Dragon Age fans than me, I just wish I could enjoy it as much as I see other people doing. I was originally going to give this game a 3/10 but knowing you can pet the cats I will give it a very generous 3.5/10.

[fandom-go-round]

bg3 companions + their reactions to finding out they knocked up fem tav? 👀 (for the ladies we can say they're trans or it's magic)

I wrote my boy first because he’s the best, can you guess who it is? Hint: He’s my first romance. No guess for you lovely requestor because you know too much LOL

Also I’m ignoring cannon endings here because we want to end up happy with babies. No angst here, begone!

Warnings: Implied Sex, Implied Sexual Situations, Pregnant Tav, Babies, Pregnancy Thing (Morning Sickness)

Astarion:

At first, he thinks that you’re joking. Vampires can’t have children after all, that’s a pretty basic fact. When you’re insistent, part of him wants to accuse you of cheating, as much as it pains him. That’s a part of him still tainted by Cazador and he muffles it as best he can. Astarion is going to insist you go to a healer together; if you’re not pregnant, something must be going on you need help with. When Shadowheart confirms you’re with child, he’s at a loss. Astarion doesn’t know what to say, truly.

After the initial shock, he goes on the hunt for anything and everything about human-vampire babies. The records are hard to find and some are locked far, far away but he finds them all. He can be very persuasive after all. It’s in one of these books that he figures out how you two made a baby; he’s going to be very careful taking your blood from now on. Speaking of, Astarion will refuse to drink from you while you pregnant, no ifs ands or buts. This is a firm boundary for him, even if you smell more and more delicious the farther along you get.

The pregnancy is hard and Astarion is afraid he’s going to lose you. The birth is especially gruesome and it’s only because of Shadowheart and Halsin that you’re alive. He wants to resent the baby for how you suffered but he can’t, they’re just too perfect. He’s afraid of getting too close, of tainting this little thing but you refuse to let him be apart. The first time he holds your child he weeps and it’s over. Astarion is always going to struggle with his emotions and feelings about being a father but never about how much he loves them. Also, he’s completely in charge of their wardrobe; you’re going to have the best-looking baby in the entire city hands down.

Gale:

Gale was always on the fence about kids. Sure they’re cute but they’re also loud and he struggles to take care of himself, let alone a little squishy creature. That doesn’t mean he’s upset when you tell him you’re pregnant, not at all. He’s just doing furious calculations in his mind and it looks like he’s crashed. Give his brain a moment to reset and he’ll give you a large grin and lean down to kiss you. Tara is the first person the two of you tell and she’s excited, vowing to be the baby’s protector. Gale loves her even more which is quite the feat. His mother is next and she immediately starts offering help. He just can’t get over how perfect his family is, it feels like a dream sometimes. 

He takes a very technical approach to your pregnancy, like everything. Gale is reading all of the baby books and using all of the tracking charts he can get his hands on. He even goes to talk to midwives, wanting an expert opinion. It’s very sweet of him but you have to remind him that all babies grow at their own pace. He just wants to be the best dad he can and for him, that means more information. It is funny to watch him change a diaper for the first time but he never backs down from a challenge! Maybe he can use magic…?

He’s a mess when you actually go into labor. Gale swore he would be with you the entire time and then passed out in the final moments. He wakes up to a healthy baby and immediately starts crying. He enjoys being a dad, especially teaching your child new things. Your kid is going to have a huge curious streak that Gale will feed with vigor. He doesn’t consciously want your kid to be a wizard but would be overjoyed to have more in common with them.

Wyll:

Wyll is over the moon, as surprised as he is. Kids are something that he’s always wanted to have eventually and with you, his favorite person? What could go wrong? Of course, he’ll hear out your concerns if you have any and can have difficult conversations around pregnancy and child birth. One benefit of being a noble is that he has resources to help; whatever you want will be yours. He’s nervous to tell his dad but once the older man starts to tear up, he knows that he’s made a good choice. Wyll wants his family to be whole and happy.

He’s a chronic hoverer, as cute and frustrating as that is. Even in the early stages of pregnancy Wyll will try to do everything for you; moving a trunk? He’s got that, don’t strain yourself. Trying to cook dinner? Let him help you love. Be firm that you can do things yourself and he’ll back off. Just know that when you turn to ask him for help he’ll be waiting in the wings to be your hero. He’s also a pro at helping you figure out cravings. Wyll won’t complain if you wake him up in the middle of the night to go get something from the kitchen. He loves wrapping his arms around you from behind and rocking together; you being in his arms is his favorite thing.

He’s a trooper during the birth, being there the entire time. It takes a long time and he does worry but he encourages you and is your personal cheerleader. He can’t stop smiling after the baby is born, tracing their cheeks and forehead. As much as it would be funny to say Wyll struggles with being a dad, he really doesn’t. He loves your child so much, you’re surprised he never brought up kids in the first place. He is very much the definition of doting father but don’t let that fool you, he takes no disrespect, especially towards you. You’re the ruler of the house and Wyll is your backup. He’s the perfect mix of fun and strict dad. Now if he can convince you to have others…

Karlach:

Karlach is over the moon when you find our you’re pregnant. She had noticed you felt off and encouraged you to go to the doctor. Neither of you were expecting the baby news, as silly as it sounds. That doesn’t stop her form immediately lifting you up with a loud ‘whoop!’ and spinning your around the room. She loves babies! She loves you! This is going to be great.

She insists on redoing a room just for the baby. Even if their crib is going to be in your room for the first few months, Karlach wants your kid to have their own space. She paints the walls, builds all the furniture, everything. She asks for you opinion on decorations and doesn’t do anything without checking with you first but it’s her labor of love. It’s also her project for when she gets anxious thinking about the future. What is something goes wrong with her heart? What if something is wrong with the baby? What is the birth is too much for you? All of these thoughts get washed away in making the baby’s room perfect and then she goes to talk to you.

Karlach helps as much as she can during the birth aka you kick her (lovingly) into the hall to go grab towels so she stops hovering. When she gets back the baby is almost here and there’s no time to panic, just watch with wide eyes. She thinks you’re even more of a badass for going through all that and asks to hold the baby fist. Karlach cries holding them; they’re so cute and small and they’re the perfect mix of the two of you. She’s defiantly going to be the fun mom and there will be moments where it feels like you have two kids to scold. She takes safety very seriously, however, and is the first to lecture about stranger danger. Your kid will never feel unloved or unsafe, Karlach swears it on her life. This is her family now and no one else can have them.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel struggles with the news that you’re having a baby. Partly because she never thought that she could have kids and the other part because she’s terrified about being a mom. She wasn’t raised in a traditional Faerunian way; no where on the continent can be compared to being raised Gith. She needs time to process on her own and it’ll be a few days before she comes back ready to talk. Take her concerns seriously and, if you truly want to keep the baby, she’ll raise them with you. She loves you after all.

It takes her a bit to understand all the changes your body is going through. It’s horrifying and amazing to watch your stomach swell and she loves gently cradling your bump as it grows. She doesn’t know what to do about the crying, except when someone else makes you cry. Then it’s easy: she wants to kill them. That usually makes you laugh and you’re able to talk her out of bodily harm. You do have some nice shop discounts now. Lae’el is very much your guard dog and she fulfills her position with pride.

The entire birthing process just shows Lae’zel that you’re the strongest person she knows. She’s completely impressed by how you handle everything and has a new respect for moms everywhere. She still thinks it’s gross and inefficient but badass all the same. Lae’zel is a strict mom but soft in her own way. She’s still learning to be kind to herself and the world around her. Your child will never feel the brunt of her frustration or confusion; they will, however, be able to swing a sword much too young. She beams with pride the first time your child beheads a training dummy and you know, deep deep down, that the two of them going to be trouble.

Shadowheart:

She starts to notice the signs before you do, honestly. At first it’s little things; you’re tired quicker, you’re more sensitive to certain smells. The big one is that you start to get morning sickness, frequently. Shadowheart finally sits you down after the fifth morning in a row over a bucket and checks you over. You’re pregnant all right, not doubt there. She’s going to be as surprised as you; you were both good about protection. Surprise baby!

She’s fairly neutral about kids. She never thought that she would have any, serving Shar, but now there’s a little more appeal to them. The pooping and crying she could live without but the idea of there being someone made up of the two of you? Shadowheart likes the idea more than she would admit out loud. She starts researching pregnancy healing the midwifery right away; she doesn’t have a lot of expertise with babies but she is a healer.

Shadowheart insists on delivering your baby herself. She wants to be a part of this and while you’re going to be doing the hard part, she wants to support you. If you have an issue, she will relent but has to be in the room. Your delivery is flawless and as she holds the bloody baby in her hands, she feels full. Of love and hope and excitement, all those emotions she once would have sworn off. For the first time since you’ve found out you’re pregnant, she’s excited to be a mom. She’s a strict but loving mom, teasing her kid and embarrassing them in public (just a little, like a cheek pinch). Shadowheart loves singing to your kids, something neither of you knew until now. Your house is full of love and laughter and singing, just perfect.

[evertidings]

— OCTOBER 2024.

accomplishments.

ahh i can’t believe it’s november (almost typed october there, great going me). it’s so wild to think we’re almost at the new year. i say that every time holiday season rolls around, but i genuinely feel it every year. so so crazy.

onto actual writing stuff: i hope you all enjoyed chapter eleven!! it’s been a month since it was released and i got such great reception from it, so thank you for reading and for saying such wonderful things to me. i spent the first bit of this month taking a break from writing (and recovering from the mental toll chapter eleven took on me), but i’m back at it now and i’m pleased to say that chapter twelve is in the works.

i'm currently writing one of two big branches in the book featuring, you guessed it, the ros. i know i've said this a lot lately, but we are truly very close to the romance lock and i want to make sure you have ample one-on-one time with the ro(s) of your choice before that happens. it's mostly for development reasons, but it definitely doesn't hurt that you get more time with your faves, right? thank me later.

to give you a little glimpse of chapter twelve, i'll vaguely say that Eliana's meeting will be a doozy. she's on a completely different level from Mirai and i already know i'm going to have so much fun writing that scene. i have plans to add tons of details and flavour text, and while it'll probably be more complicated than it needs to be (causing my future self to curse me out), i think it'll be really worth it. the intricacies of this game may be tedious at times, but i also think it's what makes it flourish (and loved) so i'm more than happy to do it. plus it gets me excited so hehe.

overall, the goal for this month involves writing. tons of writing. i don't have a date for chapter twelve yet since it's much too early, but i don't want to make you all wait ten months again, so i'm working my hardest! this chapter is going to be difficult to write (really though, when do i not struggle with writing?) but i'm really excited for it. Eliana's scene will truly be one for the books.

as always, take care of yourselves <3

stats.

chapter total: 9305 words

game total: ~520,780 words

[shy-writer-999]

Slow Burn (Part 1): Sexually frustrated Zoro touches himself at night while thinking about you.

Warnings: MDNI AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS IS NSFW CONTENT.

Summary: Zoro only lets himself fantasize about you at night. CW: Afab reader, gendered pet names ("good girl"), P in V.

Slow Burn, pt. 1: Sexually frustrated Zoro touches himself at night while thinking about you.

Zoro couldn't help how much attention he paid to you. He tried to shrug it off and talk himself out of what was quickly becoming a problem for him—his growing crush on you. He couldn't help but notice how you giggled the loudest when Sanji called him mosshead, how you would go out of your way to spend a few moments chatting and smiling with him every day, and how your peculiarly intense gaze seemed to linger just a second too long when you locked eyes. No matter how much he tried to deny it or rationalize it away, those split seconds of eye contact made his stomach flip, in other words, you gave him butterflies. He would tell himself that inter-crew romance was wrong, that he shouldn't waste his time pining after women, that the only reason he was feeling these things was because he hadn't been with someone in ages. He told himself that he only felt this way because he was basically forced to be around you and that it was only natural for a man like him to find you attractive, therefore he could ignore those butterflies and write the feelings off as a harmless fancy, unimportant and meaningless.

But the issue was that no matter how much rationalizing he attempted, his feelings for you had far surpassed these natural impulses and made-up excuses. That's just what he had—feelings. Complicated feelings that made themselves apparent when he watched you, out of the corner of his eye, put your hair up in a ponytail. He would notice the feminine and soft curve of your neck, the wisps of hair that you gathered up with your pretty fingers, and a thought would jump out at him: I bet the back of her neck smells good. Then he would pause and self-reprimand: Where the fuck did that come from? Get a grip man. And he would shift his eyes away.

One day you brushed arms. The hallways of the ship got crowded if more than a couple people were trying pass through, and in this instance, you were exiting the kitchen after dinner when Luffy barreled past you with Zoro close behind him. Luffy practically shoved you out of the way, shouting something about meat, and his shove past you pushed you towards Zoro. Your skin met for maybe a second or less as you bumped into each other. He muttered out a "sorry about that" and then immediately he walked away, shouting at Luffy to pay more attention to where he was going.

Zoro tried to be nonchalant and play it off to himself that he was not feeling any sort of way about touching your skin (even if it was only your arm). But he was lying to himself. His stomach flipped and as he followed Luffy into the kitchen all he could think about was your skin and how warm and soft it was. His mind trailed off… would other parts of your body feel like that too?  He shook his head attempting to get the thoughts out. If you're going to think about it, at least save it for later dumbass, he said to himself.

He knew he was screwed when he started musing about you yourself, not your body, but who you actually are. It was as basic as him wondering what is her favorite food? What is her favorite sort of music? and yet these musings could get as complicated as What does she dream about at night? What does she want from her life? and most importantly, What does she think of me?

He would only let himself get this deep in thought as he settled in for bed. These were nighttime thoughts and became completely irrelevant during the day (or so he told himself). He also told himself it was just normal to wonder these things about his shipmates—after all, you were all close friends and spent lots of time together. But at his core he knew this wasn't the case. How he felt towards you was different. Little did you know, but he was actually in agony any time you were around. He started inadvertently blushing, hyper-vigilantly watching you from his peripherals, and he even would go so far as to smile at you with a bit more sweetness than was normal for him. No one else could tell that he smiled at you different, but he knew it and so did you. You could see it in the way his lips curled ever so slightly more, and you could see a special softness in his eyes that you had quickly learned to recognize. Little did he know, you felt the same way.

The night you brushed arms he was so pent up he had to get out of bed and spend some time alone in the bathroom. This was becoming a habit for him. When he indulged in his fantasies and finally let that part of him run wild, he imagined the dirtiest scenarios. So dirty that he felt guilty about them the next day. It started out pretty tame, though. First, he thought about how he wanted to fuck you everywhere on the ship. Missionary in the crow's nest, doggy style in the galley with you bent over the counter, reverse cowgirl on the deck in the middle of the day, you straddling him in the tub—you name it.

He would start his sessions in the bathroom by breathing deeply and palming his painfully hard cock in his boxer briefs, running his other hand over his taught chest and arm muscles. He would grind his cock harder and harder with his palm, thinking about how you would look straddling him, pulling your top off and leaning over him so your hair cascaded down on his face and your eyes and lips were centimeters apart. He imagined how it would feel to take handfuls of your breasts, massaging and sucking on them, how you would let out a little whine when he played with your nipples, how you would yelp when he smacked your ass so hard it would leave a bruise.

At this point he would fully take his cock out of his briefs and start shamelessly stroking himself, trying to contain the groans and grunts that slipped from his lips. The precum leaked out when he imagined how good you would feel grinding his cock inside of you, how he would grip the soft skin on your hips so roughly, how you would use him to get off. That's one of the thoughts that got him riled up the most—the idea of you feeling good with his cock. Even more, he loved the idea of you feeling so good that you would cream on his cock, your walls constricting as you let out your own moans of pleasure. And of course, he loved the idea of cumming inside you, too. He would imagine the sight of his cum leaking out of you, and if he wasn't lucky enough to cum inside you, he would be happy to cum anywhere you'd let him, like your pretty mouth. He would start to moan your name as quietly as he could, throwing his head back and shaking with pleasure.

The really dirty thoughts happened when he got closer to orgasm. As he got more desperate and more feral at the thought of you, touch starved and drunk off of the pleasure of fisting his own cock furiously, he would start to think of pulling your hair, sloppily spitting in your mouth, finger fucking you almost to completion then making you beg for it, he would even think of calling you names like "pretty girl" or "good girl," depending on the day. On really thirsty days he would imagine you calling him daddy, telling him to stop (role play, of course, with a safe word), he would imagine calling you "bad girl" or "nasty girl" and he would spank you then top it all off by fucking you in the ass as "punishment". Some days he would imagine you calling him a “good boy” and giving him praise, or the opposite. The nastier and, honestly, weirder it got, he stroked himself harder and faster. "Fuck," he would hiss out between his teeth, shaking. He would moan as quietly as he could, mouthing your name, finally cumming hot white ropes all over his hand. He would let out a deep sigh, clean himself up, and go to bed finally. The next day he would go about his business like nothing happened, and indeed, he would be fine without his nightly bathroom session as long as he stayed away from you.

During the day, Zoro would get back to rationalizing and compartmentalizing his feelings about you, anything to stop falling for you. He simply ignored the guilt he felt inside from thinking such nasty sexual thoughts about you. But Zoro got to a point where that just wasn't possible anymore. Between his almost-nightly bathroom sessions, feeling depraved and crazy, and your lingering smiles and occasional bouts of intense eye contact, he could feel himself crumbling. But of course, Zoro was prideful to a fault and even more than that, he was shy. No one would expect it from the swordsman, but he really was awkward, sensitive, and shy under all those layers of strength and stoicism. So he could never bring himself to confess to you, and he kept navigating life on the ship in close proximity to you, balancing your friendship and company with how insanely horny and needy he was for no one else but you. Zoro could only keep up this balancing act for so long. He would reach a breaking point eventually. His self-control was being exerted to the absolute maximum, and he spent so much time pining after you that it was actually starting to get in the way of his training. But he told himself it would be fine, that these thoughts would settle down eventually, and that he had to pay them no mind. He started to think of new ways to handle all his pent-up energy, and he landed on the idea of simply distancing himself from you ever so slightly. Less time in your presence would mean less time that his brain would be disposed to go wild with fantasies. He decided that that was his only option, and slowly started shifting how he moved near you. It was initially a minuscule change, but you noticed immediately that something was off.

Part 2: Zoro's been acting pretty weird and rude. What's his problem?

Part 3: More smut!

See my masterlist if you're interested.

[makeyoumine69]

Spit In My Face

— PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Fashion Week is in full swing in New York City and Patrick Bateman doesn't miss the chance to show you the world of luxury and beauty. So, he invites you to attend the fashion show with him. Through the chain of events that unfold there, you will see a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew existed.

— CONTAINS: Angsty romance, smut, toxic behavior, gaslighting, cheating, misogyny, hurt/comfort, seduction, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, spanking, biting, manhandling, choking, orgasm control, dry humping, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman being an asshole (again).

— WORDS: 21k (oops)

— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face

— A/N: Hey guys! It took me a year to finally finish this and I decided to post all the parts together since most of you probably forgot what happened in the previous ones (I'll delete the old posts). I did some extra editing before posting and I hope you like it and I'm happy to get back to writing and soon I'll be rebooting the Cupcake series as I've already started working on prequels. Love you all!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST];[SERIES MASTERLIST].

Fashion, grace, money, wealth, these were the words running through your head as you rode in the taxi, and you couldn't believe Patrick had just convinced you to go to the goddamn Dior boutique. Not to mention the upcoming fashion show you were going to together, which was an actual nightmare for you and your nervous system.

“I really can’t understand. Why me?” You asked Bateman, turning in his direction to see him looking through the window, with his headphones on. And of course, he didn’t hear you. 

All you could do was give him a shy tap on the shoulder. You heard the loud beats of rock music as he opened one of his ears and turned to face you. "What?"

His slightly annoyed intonation almost discouraged you from repeating your question. "I'm just wondering why you decided to invite me to this fashion show when you have much better options." 

You watched him frown, and before you continued, you already knew what Patrick was going to say: "Cupcake, I've told you several times. I want to show you the beauty of being rich. I bet you've never seen so many fabulous people in one place."

Sighing a little sadly, you fixed your coat to distract yourself from the burning anger in your chest. "I've had enough of the rich snobs in our company and…I’m not a fan of all these 'luxurious’ things, you know…”

With a small chuckle, Bateman removed his headphones completely, quickly checking his haircut in the window's reflection. 

"Of course you're not. How can you be a fan of things you can't afford?" He stated before trying to hug your shoulders, but when he saw your intense expression, he just gently put his palm on your knee.

"Money is not happiness," you cast a serious look at him, brushing his hand away from your leg. "Can you call yourself a happy man?"

Perplexed, Patrick knitted his eyebrows, as if your question had caught him off guard —you have never seen him so lost before and that was really strange. Fidgeting in his place, Bateman was certainly about to replay something when you heard the raspy taxi driver’s voice:

“We’ve arrived.”

"Thank you!" You responded before quickly getting out of the cab without waiting for Patrick to pay for your ride.

Obviously, you were upset and pissed off because of his endless snobbish dialogues about rich people, money and how much his regular suit cos—tnone of this really interested you, would he ever understand that?

As soon as you were outside, you felt a stiff wind blowing through your hair, ruffling it and making your mischievous locks cover your face. Quickly, you brushed them away and raised your eyes to the beautiful sign that read "Dior" in large letters; so stylish, so plush—just the way he liked it.

"Are you going to stand here forever?" Bateman scolded behind your back, his loud footsteps forcing you to spin around. 

"I'm so amazed, I can't even move," you sarcastically sneered, staring at the window of the boutique. "The aura of richness has just overwhelmed me."

"How witty," Bateman almost applauded you, his lips curling into a cheeky grin as he came closer, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. "Come on, let's go inside." With a light push on your back, he induced you to move forward, his arms never left your little form. 

When you finally reached the entrance of the store, Patrick gallantly opened the door in front of you and looked at you from above, his eyes glowing with an unfamiliar tenderness.

"Much obliged..." You stammered as he somehow managed to grab your ass, stroking it and squeezing your buttock a little through your coat. Embarrassed, you turned to face him, but Bateman just smiled in his usual smug way. 

"My pleasure." He murmured in your ear before letting you go.

Once inside the boutique, you heard someone greeting Patrick with undisguised excitement:

"Mr. Bateman! It's so nice to see you again!  Welcome to Dior, we are so happy to help you."

'Again, huh?' You chuckled to yourself, turning your gaze to a side and wondering about the number of his visits and how many girls had been here before; Bateman’s face changed almost immediately as if he noticed your reaction.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Graham,” you could definitely hear some tense notes in his tone. “You look great as always!”

The guy let out a little giggle; he seemed to enjoy the compliments as much as your yuppie boy. “Not as perfect as you!” he pointed his both index fingers at Patrick, and now was his turn to grin from being praised. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, I need a dress for…” he paused before staring at you, his eyes gliding over your completely relaxed expression. “For my good friend, but she doesn’t really know what she likes,” ‘good friend, with whom he slept almost every day. Nice shot, Bateman.' “Don’t cha, baby?” While saying that, Patrick groped your cheek, pinching it a bit.

Mr. Graham, who was supposed to be a local stylist, gave two of you a suspicious glare, and only then did Patrick understand what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned. 

"Well, if the young lady doesn't mind, we can try something to your taste, Mr. Bateman," the stylist confirmed, examining you like a statue. "What do you think?"

"Great idea," Patrick exclaimed, pulling you into his arms to take off your coat. You almost fell into his embrace, whimpering as he 'accidentally' touched your boobs, squeezing them gently. 'Fuck, why should he be so obnoxious?' "I can't wait to see my Cupcake in one of these beautiful dresses." He whispered before leaving a tiny peck on your neck.

"That's very sweet of you, but..." you murmured, looking into his hazel eyes. "I don't think I'll fit into those dresses."

"Don't worry, honey." Bateman winked at you and gave you a quick slap on your butt to nudge you toward Mr. Graham, whose smile widened the longer he watched the two of you together.

“Please, follow me.”

Trying to distract yourself from all the bad thoughts, you just did what you were told and moved along countless hangers with new dresses. The further you got away from Patrick, the more insecure you became, and that strange feeling made your whole body shiver like from a cold shower.

“So, which color do you want to try on first? Maybe something dark?” the man asked you, sliding his hand across the beautiful fabric of some dress nearby. “Dark blue or dark red…Or even black?”

"I really like the black color, it goes with almost everything."

Mr. Graham chuckled amusedly and handed you a black cocktail dress, which of course was very short. Apparently Patrick didn't like long dresses or skirts, you already knew that, but that didn't mean you were happy about it.

“Mm-mh, and I think this one can fit too,” he gave you another dark blue dress before adding. “I still recommend you to have a look at our new collection, maybe you’ll find something interesting.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time of the day. "Those amazing dresses I saw when we just entered are from a new collection?"

“Yes, Miss.”

"I'll check them out. And… thank you, Mr. Graham." Excited, you smiled again, and then you strolled away, a pile of dresses in your hands.

Once you reached the place you had been before, you heard multiple voices—one of them definitely belonged to Patrick while another one seemed to be unknown to you.

"What are you doing here?" You peeked out from behind the hangers to see a beautiful blonde girl, her face literally glowing with enthusiasm. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." You didn't even have to look to know what she did next as the loud pecking sound echoed in your ears as if you had been hit with something hard.

The blonde left a small kiss on Patrick's cheek before he replied. "Good to see you too, Meredith."

“Are you here alone?”

“Mm-mhhm,” Bateman looked around and when he didn’t spot you, he added almost emotionlessly. “Yeah, you can say that.”

An instant pain burned in your chest, causing your hands to cling to the dress you were holding. Breathing heavily, you were about to send everything to hell and just leave, but for some reason, you decided to listen to their conversation, maybe you would learn something else about yourself being nothing but an empty place.

"So, are you going to the fashion show this weekend?" She asked cautiously, as if testing his line.

"Sure," they looked into each other's eyes for a while. "You know, I never miss things like that."

The way she giggled, forced you to close your ears from cringe, but that unpleasant sound kept bouncing in your head.

"Do you have a date or not?"

"Why do you ask?" Bateman retorted in a stern but concerned tone.

"I just... I thought maybe we could go together?" Flirtatiously, she pulled him closer, pretending to fix his coat.

"I'm sorry, but the answer is no." Frowning, he quickly took her hand away.

Ashamed, she stepped back and stalled. "You could just say you already have someone to go with and…"

Patrick scowled in irritation, cutting her off. "I'd still say 'no' even if I didn't…"

"Miss, did you find something you like?" Mr. Graham's sudden voice made you jerk and drop the super expensive dress with a thud.

It felt like all eyes were on you at that moment, and you didn't really know what to do other than quickly pick up the dress and act naturally. “God, I’m so sorry…I can be so clumsy sometimes!” You apologized, trying to ignore Bateman’s intense gaze. 

"Don't worry, Miss… it's not a problem!" The stylist assured you, matching his words with reassuring gestures.

"I'll pay for everything,” Patrick pronounced it so calmly and with absolute confidence, as he moved in your direction. “Have you finished?” 

First, you cast a confused glance at him, and then you looked at Meredith, her mad stare of disbelief almost making you laugh. “I think so,” you murmured, watching him getting closer. “I even got some of the new collection.”

“Ahh, is it so?” he teased, standing face to face with you. “Come on, let Daddy see what you’ve got.”

With that said, Patrick leaned over to your lips, and you let him pull you into a deep kiss, which was pretty surprising—your own behavior almost scared you, as you didn’t even care about people watching you making out. Deftly, he grabbed your waist to lift you up, but your audible protest compelled him to stop.

“Pat-Patrick…” you whispered against his mouth. “P-please, don’t forget where we are…”

“I know, I know,” he snickered softly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “I just missed my Cupcake so much.”

With a dull grin on your face, you pulled away from him to look into his dark brown eyes. "Really?" After you asked that, you glanced at the blonde girl behind his back, who was now talking to a middle-aged woman, probably the assistant.

“Time literally stopped for me when you left.” 

'What a beautiful flattery.'

After a while, you changed into the next dress because all the previous options didn't get Bateman's attention, even though you really liked them. You were struggling with a clasp when you heard him whine in anticipation.

“Baby, did you fall asleep in there?”

“Almost ready!” You blurted out before fixing the dress straps on your shoulders.

And then you walked out of the dressing room to the circular runway, and yes, this boutique had a special VIP area with a fucking runway.

"Finally, my favorite style," Patrick flattered, sitting in the leather chair and holding a glass of mineral water with a little lime. "Mm-mm, this dress outlines your tits so perfectly, not gonna lie, I like it."

A bit humiliated, you were constantly fixing the hem of the dress as it was too short for you, especially when Bateman was looking at you so vigilantly, making you feel yourself like a picture in some art gallery.

"Baby, turn around and…" he paused, crossing his long legs and pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop crawling! Square your shoulders and straighten your back!"

You turned around, unable to hide your sadness. "I… I don't feel comfortable in this. It's too short," you glanced at his annoyed face, wondering if you should continue. "I'm almost naked!"

"But that's the point!" Patrick tilted his hand to the side and was silent for quite a while, clearly thinking about something. "You know what, Cupcake?"

“What?”

"I'll be honest, this dress is amazing, but… unfortunately not on you," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. "It's not a problem, honey. Just take it as motivation to be better."

Biting your lip, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't try to hide your pain and resentment, but your voice sounded dejected anyway. “Of course… keep pretending that you didn’t expect this…”

Humming to himself, Bateman squinted his eyes and leaned on his knees. “Expected what?”

“That these slutty dresses wouldn't fit me,” you glared at him, your body was yearning to get rid of this dress as quickly as possible. “Goddamn, I have enough of this…I hope you enjoyed this little performance!”

After saying that, you turned around and went back into the dressing room. Trembling with rage, you didn't even care what would come next as the searing flame of injustice overtook your mind. No way would you allow anyone to treat you like that.

"Shit!" You cursed as you attempted to undo the fucking clasp on your back, but it didn't seem to work. 

"If you keep pulling like that, you'll tear it apart for sure," his unexpectedly gruff baritone shot through your back like an arrow. "Let me help you."

"No!" You almost screamed, turning sharply to face him. Your chest rose and fell so abruptly that you thought you would choke on the air.

Sneering, Bateman gently extended a hand as if you were a wild beast he planned to tame. “Cupcake,” he was getting closer, forcing you to walk backwards. “Tell me…what’s wrong?”

"What's wrong?" You kept stepping back until you suddenly bumped into the wall behind you. "Maybe you should ask yourself first?"

"I think you should stop pouting or you will get wrinkles," he tried to be nice to you, but it only made you more upset. "I don't think either one of us wants that to happen, am I right, honey?"

“Stop it, Patrick…”

“Mm-mhh, it’s just Patrick now?” You didn’t even notice that his massive figure was already towering over you, pressing you a little against the wall. “No ‘Daddy’ anymore?”

Possessively, Patrick strived to cup your face, but you flinched away from his touch, coaxing a warning growl to break from his perfectly shaped lips.

 “Can you just leave and let me change?”

“Jesus, (y/n)...you’re acting like a stubborn child!”

Panting, you leaned your hands against his firm chest to push him away a bit. "Do you really think I'm in the mood…after all the rude things you said?"

He chuckled, looking at you from above and giving you a feeling of being so small compared to him, you almost stopped breathing. “Rude things?” laughing again, Bateman trapped you between his arms as he put them from both sides of your head. “I always say what I think, there’s nothing special about it…”

"More likely, you always think only of yourself," your voice wavered, and you found it hard to breathe, as if he was sucking all the oxygen out of the air. "Let's just skip this, if you still want me to go with you..."

“No, I don’t need you to do me a favor.” Patrick shushed you with a finger, pressing it against your lips, leaving you trembling like a leaf. 

“And I don’t need your help!” You tried to break away, but he kept you in one place. 

“Oh, is that so, honey?” he crooned in a sweet tone, rubbing his nose against yours; his seductive aura was almost intoxicating, it was corrupting your mind stronger than anything else in this world. “Honestly, I just wanted to help you undo the clasp but now… now, I want more than that…”

With no delay, Bateman covered your mouth his heated one, wrapping his brawny hands around your quivering frame and spreading your legs with his knee. Suffocated, you didn’t react, feeling his hard bulge brushing against your mound—a muffled moan of sudden pleasure pierced through your bonded lips, sending chills down you spin; your cute reaction didn’t surprise him, but Patrick couldn’t hide his satisfied grin as his hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress. 

And only now, you desperately clawed at his shoulders, weakly pushing him back, not understanding that your attempts to fight him were only putting gasoline on a fire, encouraging him to sprawl you against the wall, pinning your hands against your head.

"P-Patrick!" The way you almost screamed his name made you both tremble with ravenous lust as you looked into each other's eyes, not really knowing if you wanted him to let you go or hold you forever.

Growling quietly, Bateman continued to move along your longing body, forcing you to hook your hip around his loin, so you could grind against his hard groin. “Feeling good, darling?”

'No, not good...no!'

“Yes-s! Mmm-mh…Daddy… ahh!” Oh God, that was the end. 

"Baby," he murmured in your ear, thrusting his firm thighs into yours and shamelessly groping your bottom. "Daddy doesn't like to see his sweet Cupcake upset."

"Maybe...n-next time Daddy will think more before he talks." You stammered from the beat of your heart. 

“Do ya want me to bite this little sharp tongue?” panting, Patrick punctuated his words with rough smacks on your butt, which could be surely heard outside the dressing room. “I’ll teach you how to behave.”

Smoothly, Bateman pulled down the top of your dress, letting your breasts to bounce out from it, and the next second his greedy mouth was already sucking on your taut nipple. 

"Mmm…Gosh." You arched your back as the last vestiges of your self-control seemed to disappear along with your ability to resist this man.

Switching between your engorged peaks, Patrick didn’t stop rubbing against your mound not even for a moment, your throbbing pussy was about to explode at any second. Thirsty, he tugged on your tip with a squelch, enjoying each little whine you made, but he still needed more.

“Turn around,” he urged briefly, licking his lips in hunger as he watched you bent over in front of him. “Oh-fuck, I can smell your sweet arousal… mmm,” snuggling into you, Bateman left a wet hickey on the back of your neck before he started to move down, peppering your exposed skin with hot sloppy kisses. “C’mon, Cupcake, spread your legs for me.”

As if hypnotized, you obeyed and before you even noticed, his long fingers were teasing your sensitive clit trough your so-fucking-wet panties. Clinging to the wall, you were about to moan when you sensed his big palm on your chin, his hot breathing was mercilessly burning the delicate skin of your throat while his rock-hard bulge was still pressed against your ass.

“Aa-aww, Daddy….mhm.” You muffled against your own hand before turning around to give him your most innocent look–he read it almost right away.

“So, you need my help?” bastard! – you almost said it out loud, but Bateman was faster as he slid his thumb into your mouth, and you started to suck it like medicine you couldn’t live without. “Ahh-look at ya… Such a little slutty girl, can’t function without Daddy’s finger inside her dirty mouth…”

Twitching under his massive weight, you could only think of his skilful digits playing with your pussy better than you ever wished for, damn you were already so close but it seemed like Partick's endless craving spurred him on to tear you apart completely.

With no words, Bateman knelt behind your back to pull up the hem of your dress, and soon you had to compress your lips so tightly, as loud nasty sounds were about to erupt from your fiery chest when he finally moved your underwear to the side and his plump lips covered your feverish cunt. 

“Oh-mmmy God,” tensed like a string, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh, or all these things together from how his masterful tongue was pushing you over the edge. “Mmm-Patrick-” you suppressed another moan when he bit one of your buttocks before spreading them wide open to push two fingers inside your blushing pussy. “A-aah-Daddy, I’m so close… p-please!”

Patrick only purred something incoherently in response, as he continued to lick your engorged folds and pumping your tight hole with his experienced digits. His persistent ministrations made you totally lose your mind, and now you didn’t understand were you begging him to stop or to NEVER stop. 

When your legs shook in his grip, you heard his raspy snarl: “Not yet, Cupcake…Not yet!”

'And he just stopped, holy hell.'

Your miserable sobbing bounced against the walls of the dressing room as the coil in your lower belly was yearning for its release, it was literally itching so hard you were ready to scratch the wall with your nails if it could help you a bit.

“(Y/N), you can’t even imagine how much I want to leave you just like that,” Bateman hissed, and then you heard the unzipping sound which caused your knees to buckle. "But I want to get all your stupid thoughts about acting like a brat… out of your head!"

Abruptly, Patrick put your legs together and the next second you felt his leaking tip between your legs, brushing against your soaked folds and making your squirm from ecstasy. 

'This man have no barriers, he can reduce me to pieces so easily, like no one else, and I am sure he likes it.'

A small drops of sweat were running down his forehead as he watched his beefy cock slipping back and forth with a sleek sound; your overstimulated pussy was literally on fire.

“P-please…” You whimpered, bending ever lower to give him a better access to your spasming cunt. 

“If you want to cum, you have to move, slut.” Groaning, Bateman stood still with his hands wrapped tightly around your hips. Mesmerised, he watched you grinding on his huge dick as you desperately chased your release. At that moment, your languid, heavy breathing was all that mattered to him.

Shivering erratically, you almost crested your high when Patrick harshly grasped your throat and pressed you against the wall, possessively he began to smack his cock against your clit, each slap he made was taking your breath away.

“Tell me, Cupcake…” he grunted against your neck, brushing his swollen tip along your throbbing nub barely sensible. “Who do you belong to?”

“You…Only y-you...”

Bateman squeezed your neck with blatant dominance and demanded in a low voice, "Uh, not quite convincing…try again."

“Aa-aww! I… I belong to you…Daddy!” You cried out through your pressed palm when he sped up the tempo, slapping your pussy with nasty wet sounds.

With a devilish smirk on his face, Patrick had to hold you still as you cummed so hard, gushing on his dick and fidgeting around the wall. Multiple waves of pleasure were washing over you like a waterfall, leaving you completely exhausted, you didn’t even have any power to moan. 

And soon, you became limp in his powerful arms, allowing him peacefully patting your head as he praised you. “You can be a good girl when you really want to,” Bateman kissed your temple, fixing his pants. “But still, you could just let me help you with this fucking dress.”

“You can help me now…” You replied, hungrily catching the air.

Smugly, Patrick eventually undid the clasp on your dress, not missing the moment to leave a red mark on your shoulder blade as he sucked on your soft skin. “Speaking about dresses. Since my favourite one didn’t fit, you can choose whatever you want…I don’t really care.”

You sighed, smiling ironically to yourself. “Great!”

Bateman didn’t stop smirking even for a second, he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice your sarcastic intonation, he just ignored it, as usual. “Come out when you are ready, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“What for? I can pay for this myself.”

His cheesy titter unpleasantly cut your ear. “I don't want you to starve, babe,” you cast an angry glance at him, but he only stroked your cheek before adding: “You only need to be an obedient girl, and I'll give you as many gifts as you want.”

“But I didn’t ask...”

A sudden ring of his mobile phone got his attention, so he hushed you with a finger before quickly going out from the dressing room, leaving you alone with your inflaming rage.

Snorting tiredly, you mentally screwed him a million times in a row, changed your clothes and tried not to even think about eavesdropping on his conversation with whoever it was. As you left the dressing room, you heard the echo of his voice from nearby.

“Jesus, Evelyn! I’ve told you already, I can’t take the time off work.”

At that moment, you could swear your legs weren't listening as they led you straight to the source of the sound. With your heart beating, you halted near the dressing room when his voice suddenly fell silent, and the next second the curtain was carelessly pulled aside so that your frightened eyes met his furious ones.

'Oops!'

Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:

"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.

"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."

"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.

“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”

"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”

He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.

"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming. 

"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/n), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"

The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.

"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.

"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."

Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"

"Of course!"

All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud. "2800 dollars, for this?"

Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"

"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his platinum AmEx credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"

When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body—he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long."

Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.

All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.

'Bullshit.'

"(Y/n), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?

Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."

You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.

“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit. 

“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”

Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”

“Relax?”

“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. 'Goddamn!' “Relax and take it easy.”

"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"

Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/n)...don’t even start this conversation again.”

“You’re such an…”

Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.

When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.

"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him. 

The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes—yes, I am." 

Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable...you were literally losing yourself.

His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.

"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.

"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."

Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”

"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."

'Excellent.' 

Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?

"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."

"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something. 

Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:

"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"

Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.

"I don't understand, why do you ask?"

Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."

Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, almost breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for scenes, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you took a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever… and confront them for as long as you want!"

"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he drawled the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."

Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."

After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.

"Of the two of us, you are the one who really needs some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was excruciating. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added, "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all along. What an unpleasant surprise?"

A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.  

'Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.'

"Cupcake..."

"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"

'Don't cry. Please, don't cry!' But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:

"Give me...give me something to clean the floor!"

"(Y/n), calm down! You're bleeding." 

"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.

With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.

"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound. 

"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads. 

As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.

"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."

"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."

"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."

Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"

“Ask yourself.”

The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.

"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"

"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"

"Oh, you've already given me enough, believe me!"

Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away. 

'No, no, no. Not again'

You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears. 

'Stop.'

"Cupcake."

'His voice, his scent, his brawny body.' 

"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"

One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.

"Daddy."

Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.

"Cupcake." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.

Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop. 

Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.

"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"

"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers. 

"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"

This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.

"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."

"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."

"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."

A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.

"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."

"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”

"Fuck, I forgot...damn it!" He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.

Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:

"Come back!" 

"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."

Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.

Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later. 

As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.

'Just leave, please!'

Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.

"Patrick."

"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.

"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."

And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.

When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.

Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.

"(Y/n), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.

"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot, honey."

Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. You stupid whore!"

Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you—your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes. Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.

"Mmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?" 

"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."

"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"

Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned. "Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!" 

That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."

Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.

"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?" 

With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.

"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"

"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."

"Even worse than you?"

He scowled, but continued. "Much worse, believe me."

"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"

"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.

"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies." 

"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."

"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."

"That's right."

Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.

"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing. 

"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"

That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun. 

"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body. 

But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.

"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"

"Yeah, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."

You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.

"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.

Patrick wasn't lying—the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.

After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.

As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.

"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.

You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."

Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."

'God, what a jerk.' 

"Can't say the same about you."

"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."

"You really think I care?"

And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing—you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.

"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."

You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."

Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.

"Do you like him?"

"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.

"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."

Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?

"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."

"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness. 

"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."

The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.

"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.

"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."

You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.

Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.

Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.

His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.

God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.

After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.

A second, two seconds.

It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.

"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.

Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?

At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.

Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."

Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on. 

With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"

Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.

"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing—he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening." 

With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery. 

"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?" 

Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."

You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest. 

"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.

His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much? 

Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.

Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.

The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost. 'Fuck, not now, not now!'

Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.

The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head. 

"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.

"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"

"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"

"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..." 

Lost.

Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents. 

"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"

A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.

"HEY! We were just trying to help!"

"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"

Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?

"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"

At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it. 

"Who did this to you?"

'You did.'

But he would never know.

"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?" 

Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.

As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.

"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"

Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine. 

"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"

Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."

Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"

You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.

Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.

Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.

"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.

You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."

Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.

"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It does."

"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."

The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.

"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face. 

"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."

A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.

"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"

What the hell was going on inside your head?

Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.

Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?

When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.

"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."

Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."

"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."

"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."

Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."

To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.

"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.

"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."

He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.

"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."

You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.

"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."

This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings.

There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.

Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place. 

Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.

“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”

His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”

“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”

“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink  of poverty?”

Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”

'And why did I trust this man at all? What was so special about him?'

You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.

“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.

“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”

Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.

With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”

“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.

“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.

You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”

“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”

His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”

Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.

“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”

“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”

He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”

“Good for you.”

You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.

“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”

Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him. 

“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his. 

Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.

'It's already too much.'

Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage. 

“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”

Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”

His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”

Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race. 

“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”

You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” 'Damn it, did I actually say that?'

After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves. 

“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”

“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”

“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”

Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?

With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours. 

“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”

It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.

“And what do you do to relax?"

“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”

“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”

With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."

At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.

“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.

“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”

“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”

“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”

“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”

At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that. 

You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.

In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new. 

The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you. 

'Excellent!'

Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.

Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.

Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting —  the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.

Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.

“Cupcake, are you—”

A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.

“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”

Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself. 

How could he let this happen? 

As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.

Never.

"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. 

"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully. 

"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."

"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.

"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"

Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper. 

After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again. 

Emotions were overtaking you.

Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”

“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.

Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.

“Patrick! Please, don’t go!” 

Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”

“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.

This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.

One, two, three…

What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?

Four, five, six…

The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.

Seven, eight, nine…

How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering? 

“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.

Ten.

“Stop what?” His voice—it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.

“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.

“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"

“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”

“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.

Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.

“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”

“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”

With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”

You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this. 

Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?

Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs—the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.

Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.

That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”

“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.

Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.

“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”

“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”

As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.

“Stay like that.”

After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.

“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”

“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.

His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.

The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.

“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.

Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.

“Ahhh—GOSH…! Pat...” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.

Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.

“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"

This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.

Why did it hurt so good to be alive?

You heard a faint voice calling you and asking for help, but no matter how hard you tried to follow it and find it—all you could see was darkness before your eyes. Scared, you moved along the dark alley, surrounded by shadows, shivering from the abnormal cold, and for a second you even thought you were already dead. But when the voice called you again, you finally realized that it was your inner voice, but it sounded so sad, even compared to your darkest days.

"How did you end up like this, (y/n)?" Your own reflection spoke to you, each word cutting through your heart like a dagger. "You're so pathetic and weak, what would Mom and Dad say if they knew about your 'successful' life in New York?"

Frowning, you closed your hands around your ears to stop this madness, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder the voice became in your head.

"Look what you've done to yourself! Do you really think he cares about you?" 

"Leave me alone!" You yelled at your shadow copy and ran down the alley, but there seemed to be no escape.

"Wake the fuck up! Bateman is just using you for his own needs, and you let him treat you like a fucking toy. Being in debt to him is not an excuse!" You could hear it even with your ears closed and there was nowhere to hide.

"SHUT UP!" You sped up, the cold air hitting your face mercilessly, but you didn't care. "Get out of my head!"

God, it was so fucking absurd to argue with yourself.

Perplexed and scared, you suddenly realized that the faster you were running the louder your inner voice was getting, bringing you a sharp headache as if a million needles cut into your brain at once. It hurt really bad.

“Patrick! Patrick, where are you?” You cried out as the darkness was clouding around you with each passing second. “Please, I need you…” A single tear slid down your warm cheek when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as though you were drowning. “Pat-Patrick…”

Slowly closing your eyes, you let the void consume you, which actually brought you some relief, because now you were free from pain and sorrow, reveling in the sweet space of non-existence.

A loud gasp bounced against the walls of your small bedroom, signaling of your eventual awakening. Panting, you sat on the bed only to see Bateman’s sleepy form next to you—he was sleeping like a baby, laying on his back and sniffling from time to time. Shocked, you were trying your best to regain your composure and steady your heavy breathing, not even noticing that you were drenched in sweat. 

Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers to find yourself completely naked, so the next thing you did was find something to put on. Subsequently, you rushed inside your small bathroom and saw Bateman’s clothes drying off on the battery—the memories of the recent events flashed across your mind like a slow-motion movie. First, you were taking a bath—which was still full of cold water—then you nearly drowned but Patrick came in time and literally saved you. The next flashbacks made you lean on the sink and hold back your breath—his eager mouth on your cunt, forcing you to lose your mind and cum again and again until you eventually drifted off. 

Jesus Christ.

Embarrassed, you quickly opened the water and washed your face several times until you cooled down a bit. After you regain your composure, you fasten your terry robe and head to the kitchen as you were so starved that you even had a stomach ache. 

New York was already awake, and the sun was high above the horizon, shining so brightly in the windows that you had to close your blinds and thank God it was Sunday and you didn't have to go to the office because your head was spinning due the aftereffect of your sedative pills. Speaking of them—once you saw the jar with pills on the kitchen counter you threw it into the rubbish without any second thought, yet you didn’t want Bateman to know that he had an influence on your decision. When you closed the door to the kitchen, you accidentally slammed it harder than you should have, and it cracked so loudly that it sounded like a bundle of dishes broke at the same time.

"Damn it!" You cursed to yourself, pressing a palm to your face, certain that the noise would wake Bateman up.

Panicking a bit, you retreated to your bedroom and as soon as you stepped in you saw the man of your dreams stretching out and yawning so adorable, that for a moment you just froze in your place, not capable of taking your eyes off from Bateman’s disheveled hair and his broad chest.

With a low growl, Patrick pulled the blanket away and finally noticed you. "Woah, Cupcake, was that you?" The man chuckled, casually flexing his muscles as he looked at the mirror next to the door where you were standing. "I thought something had exploded outside."

Abashed, you quickly adjusted your robe from his piercing gaze. "Sorry, I can be really..."

"Clumsy?" Smiling broadly, Bateman leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms. 

"Yes, clumsy," you tugged with your fingers, briefly glancing down—damn, he seemed to be the only person who could embarrass you so easily. "Well...do you want anything?"

"Hmmm, let me think," Patrick hummed before he thoughtfully pressed a finger to his plump lips. "I probably have something on my mind," Bateman gave you a mischievous grin when he saw your curious look and smoothed his golden brown hair. "How about a morning blowjob?" Your instant reaction was a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which made the man's face look even more smug. "Relax! I'm joking." 

Of course he wasn't joking—you knew it and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd pretend I didn't hear that," you said, finally looking away from his sturdy body. "How about breakfast?"

"That sounds really good."

Shocked, you took a moment to think about the possible options you could cook for him since you didn’t really expect him to give you a positive answer. “I can offset you with a scrambled egg and some fresh orange juice.”

With a satisfied grin, the man slowly got up from your modest bed and stretched his muscles again; he was definitely making it on purpose. “Oh, that’s nice,” he almost groaned when he cocked his head to one side then to another. “I can’t say the same about your bed, Cupcake… you should change the mattress if you want to keep walking with a straight back.”

And though Patrick was lamenting, you could say he said it almost affectionately—as if he really cared about you, yet you brushed this conclusion off as fast as your heart was pounding right now when the man got closer to you; his tall, massive frame towered over you like a mountain.

“I also would like to have a shower, if…there’s such an option,” Bateman smirked and briefly traced a finger along your cheek, coaxing you to close your eyes for a second and revel in the soft sensation of his touch. “Did you sleep well?”

A sudden question that fell from his lips like a suffocated gasp, a tender stroke on your shoulder and you were already melting as Patrick knew what he was doing, every touch, every glance of his brown hypnotic eyes was deliberate and smooth, leaving you no chance but to surrender to his demand.

“Yes, I slept like a baby, though I can hardly remember the things that happened before I blacked out,” you lied with an embarrassed smile. “You can have a shower and use whatever soaps and towels you’ll see.” Thee more you talked the more his lips curled, especially when you allowed him to bring you closer into his embrace. “But don’t expect anything extraordinary.”

“I won’t, I promise,”  the man chuckled and playfully pinched your ass. “Sleeping beauty.”

With that, Patrick walked past you, leaving you alone for a moment, giving you a chance to pull yourself together. And when you seemed to relax, a thought of his clothes that had been left in the bathroom popped up in your mind. ‘Oh God, I forgot!’

Nervously, you rushed after Patrick into your bathroom to see that the door was already closed, implying that he was inside and probably naked, though you couldn’t hear the sound of flowing water. Embarrassed, you coughed quietly and knocked several times.

“Yeah?” Bateman’s muffled voice echoed through the door. 

“Patrick, I…” a short pause turned into a breathless gasp. “If you’re not already in the shower, may I come in?”

After a moment, the door in front of you opened and you saw Patrick wrapped in a white towel. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you giggled nervously and sneaked inside the bathroom to quickly grab his clothes. “I just wanted to iron your…suit and stuff, while you’re in the shower…” Quickly, you hovered his garments over your arm and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions, despite his surprised expression. “I’m so sorry for dumping your clothes yesterday.”

With these words, you deftly avoid his grasp as you knew he’d definitely try to make you embarrassed even more. “(Y/n)!”

“Take a shower. I’ll make you breakfast as I promised.” 

This time, the man didn’t try to catch you or follow you, thankfully. So, you could safely make it to your living room where you set an ironing board and put his shirt first to iron. Wrapped in thoughts, you didn’t even notice how carefully you were ironing his clothes, you couldn’t even remember doing the same with your stuff but maybe you were just scared of ruining it since everything he wore was utterly expensive. ‘This suit probably costs like my monthly rent.’ Sighing, you put the shirt aside when you heard the water flowing sound and your mind instantly gave you an image of Patrick’s naked body, enveloped in steam and slightly flush from the heat. ‘Damn, I should stop or I'm gonna ruin something.’ When it was time to iron his tie, you ran your finger along the smooth red fabric, draped in beautiful intricate patterns—you couldn't deny that you had a thing for his ties, for all of them—you smiled to yourself before bringing it to your lips, you could still feel his cologne on it. This tantalizing scent was driving you crazy, it fit him so perfectly as if it was made specially for him, but even if that was true, you wouldn’t be surprised at all, regarding how rich this man was. The moment you finished ironing his pants, you seemed to hear his voice coming from the bathroom. ‘Perfect timing.’

Slightly tensed, you stopped next to the door. “Patrick? Did you call me?” When he didn’t reply, you became even more stirred, so without really caring about seeing him naked, you opened the door and stepped in. “Patrick?” Since your bathroom was much smaller than his, you bumped into his massive frame, squealing in surprise. “Oh God, sorry!”

“Oh, Cupcake,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders before carefully cupping your face. “I hope you didn’t break your nose against my firm chest?”

Frowning, you gave him a dead glare but he only snickered back. “What happened? Why did you call me?”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush for me? I’ll buy you another one and…”

You stopped him halfway and removed his hands to stroll to the sink and opened the cabinet above it. “Here. There’s also a razor if you need.”

Smirking, Bateman sneaked behind you and pressed his wet body against yours. “Do ya think I need to shave?” He rubbed the mirror from steam to check himself, sliding a hand along his chiseled chin.

“I…I don’t know…I just thought in case you need to, the razor is here.”

“Mhm…” he hummed and before you knew it he nuzzled against your exposed neck, forcing you to gasp and stepped back right into his embrace, just like he planned it. “Does that tickle, Cupcake?” 

‘Dear Lord, please give me the strength to survive this.’

Staying still, you just swallowed hard and let him continue to attack your neck, which he did with precious care before, but now, Patrick also used his mouth and teeth, and that was already too much.

"I think you definitely have some stubble," you laughed, trying to turn it into a joke. But as soon as you tried to walk away, he pulled you back into his strong arms, and that was not funny. "Breakfast Patrick, I have to make breakfast, did you forget?"

"Not really, but I need your help."

"Help?"

The man gave you a devilish smile before lifting you up and sitting you on the bathroom counter, not even giving you a chance to protest. Then Bateman took the shaving cream, checking the brand name skeptically, but then averting his eyes, probably thinking it was better not to know. With deliberate, calculated movements, he applied the cream to his cheekbones, moving up and down his face. The sight was something you never thought you'd find so damn hot that you didn't even make a sound, just watched him carefully prepare to shave.

"Have you ever seen a man shave, darling?" Patrick asked in a cheeky tone, surely noticing the way you were staring at him.

You shook your head. “No,” you shamelessly checked on him, following the little buds of water slipping down his torso. “God, this is such a silly question, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering, Bateman flexed his muscles while watching in the mirror and missing the way you rolled your eyes. “Well, now you finally have a chance.” The man winked at you and grabbed the razor. “You know, I really like your place, it’s pretty clean.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yes,” you crossed your arms and turned away just the moment when the man started to glide the razor against his jawline—you thought the blade would become blunt because his cheekbones were too sharp—his every action was smooth and skillful. “That was the first thing you said when we came in.”

“That only means that it’s really very clean here.”

Huffing, you fixed your robe and cursed to yourself, ‘Why does he always have to be like this?’

Opening the faucet, Patrick cleaned his face after the last stroke of the razor. “Can you check here?” 

Confused, you gave him a questioning gaze when he turned halfway, pointing at the apex of his jaw. Sheepishly, you touched his freshly shaved skin, feeling a slight prickly sensation. “I think it’s still a bit stubbly.” 

“Aha,” Bateman acknowledged and quickly took your hand in his big one, briefly kissing the top of it and giving you the razor. “I told you, I’d need your help, Cupcake.” “How do you even do it yourself?”

“The razors I use are much sharper than this one, honey,” he chuckled but once you placed the razor against his skin he stopped moving. “Just be careful.”

The last phrase struck a chord inside your chest and you even stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before you eventually began to shave the rest of the stubble. All the while, Patrick would glance at you attentively, his hazel irises like hypnotizing spirals, so you forced yourself to stay focused on the razor and the patch of his skin still covered in a shaving cream.

“You have such soft skin,” you mumbled mostly to yourself but you were sure he heard it. “It’s so pleasurable to touch.”

“(Y/n),” he suddenly called out your name in a stern voice. “I think we should talk about yesterday.” “No…”

"Listen to me," he grabbed the hand that held the razor and pushed it to the side. "You should stop taking that sedative."

“It was just an accident.” 

“You could die, Cupcake…”

"I...I know...I owe you for saving me," you finally stated, releasing your hand to finish shaving him. "But let me take care of my life."

“Ouch.”

“Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” You jolted in panic, almost dropping the razor as if you were hit by the electric shot.

“Yes, you did,” Bateman glided a palm along his now perfectly shaved cheeks. “With your words.”

Letting out a sad sigh, you put the razor into the sink next to you and reached for another towel for him as you watched him washing his face. The more you kept silent, the more palpable the tension was getting in the air and after a brief moment of contemplating, you decided that the best option now was just to go to the kitchen and cook.

“Toothbrush is here.” You murmured and got up from the bathroom counter, about to leave but Patrick stopped you. 

First, you glanced down at his grasp around your wrist, then you raised your eyes to meet his walnut ones, now they were absolutely dark and demanding. Inch by inch, the man was getting closer, soon you could feel the fresh scent of your soap on his wet skin as he pressed you along his broad form, one hand rested on the small of your back, while another snaked beneath your robe to outline one of your hard peaks, which were visible through the fabric.

“Pat-Patrick…”

“No more ‘Daddy’ again, huh?” he whispered into your ear, playing with your stray lock. “Do you remember how many times you called me like that last night?”

‘No! I don’t remember, I shouldn’t remember this, I…’

“...your sweet voice sounded so good with all these little dirty pleas, ‘Daddy, don’t stop, mmhm-please!’ Uhhh, that was really something,” Bateman crooned against your neck, forcing you to step back until he trapped you between his massive body and bathroom counter. “Got you.”

There was nothing to say more, once his warm mouth latched on yours, the urge to deny him fading with every second of the kiss, especially when Patrick savagely sucked on your lower lip and drew his tongue across it as if asking for permission to slip inside.

Gasping, you instinctively inclined your head to the side for a moment and the man used it for showering your delicate neck with little peeks which then transformed into wet, red marks. This sweet torture could last forever if you suddenly didn’t press your palm against his naked chest in a determined way.

“We can’t,” you protested when he got down to kiss you again. “You’re engaged, don’t you think it’s so mean to…cheat on your fiance?”

The man couldn’t hold back a scoff. “What does that have to do with anything? You owe me, Cupcake, you owe me a lot.” 

Annoyed, you made an attempt to push him away, but you obviously failed as Patrick was too strong, looming over you like a mountain. “If you mean the last time—I already thanked you and moreover, I didn’t ask you to do it, you know?” You watched his face changing into something more impish, the corners of his lips curled up as if everything was happening according to his plan. “You always decide for me…maybe it’s time to stop?”

Bateman chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to finally open your eyes?”

“Are you…really telling me this?!”

“You owe me a pretty big sum of money,” the man suddenly turned the conversation in another way. “And we had a deal…” Carefully, he trailed his finger along your cheek like an artist admiring his most precious creation. “Do you think I’d be so patient with your bad attitude to me if I were not really into you, hmm?”

The last words made you swallow hard and turned away for a moment, as you were on the verge of tears. Did he really just confirm that there was some kind of affection for you from his side?

“I…I know I owe a lot of money, but believe me, I’ll back them soon,” you removed his arms from your waist but the next second, Patrick placed them on the bathroom counter behind you from both sides, not allowing you to go away. “Please, believe me.”

“I don’t need that fucking money,” Patrick barked and unexpectedly gripped your shoulders, but when he noticed the glowing fear in your eyes, the man loosened his grasp and cupped your face. “I need you. Both your body and soul.”

Closing your eyes, you wanted to sink through the ground. “You want me to do things that you can’t buy with money…” you declared with a chilling coldness in your voice. “Other women are okay with being your toys, but I’m not. Now, let's finish this conversation, it won’t lead to anything.”

A tired sigh broke out from Bateman’s broad chest and for a second he even thought to let you go and turned over the page of the story of two broken souls, who met themselves so suddenly. Maybe now was that exact moment he was waiting so long, the moment to open the cards and confess, even though Patrick could hardly believe it would work.

"You don't seem to be listening to me at all," was all the man could say. "And that's not surprising, since no one really listens to me. Because...uhh...because no one really cares about what really bothers me…" He let you go and stepped back. "And you...I thought you were the only person who...who actually tried to understand me and act naturally."

"Patrick..."

He raised his hand in an eloquent gesture to let him continue. "You probably did it all because of the debt, but...I'll be honest, sometimes I made myself believe that you weren't acting like this just because of the money."

"Is this another manipulation?" You asked bluntly, holding back your tears. "How could I believe you after all the things you did to me? How many times did you treat me like a puppet that you no longer wanted to play with? And not to mention that you turned out to be engaged!" You grabbed your head and leaned against the bathroom counter, massaging your temples. "This is already too much."

The man huffed and cautiously approached you. With a soft, feathery movement, he touched your hands and pulled them away from your strained face. "At least you seem to care that I'm engaged," he said abruptly, moving you closer so that your head was now pressed against his massive chest. "I know it's overwhelming, (y/n). But..." the words suddenly stuck in his throat like a lump. "You're not alone in this." Patrick urged curly, running his large palm along the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, inhaling the scent of your soft hair. 

‘Not alone’, you repeated inside your head and looked up into his brown eyes, which were now so stern and contemplative—you have never seen them like that before. This man, oh God, this man was such a mess, he was making you lose the ground beneath your feet with his sudden confessions, but in the end, actions spoke louder than words, even though you wanted to believe him and sink into the strong feeling you had towards him—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to get lost in him as you would burn out like a match.

All the while you were standing like that, Bateman was hoping you would say something in return, but when you didn’t, he just released you from his embrace without saying a thing. Overwhelmed by emotions, you left the bathroom and let him finish his hygienic routine in private.

A bit later, you didn’t even remember how you cooked a breakfast for both of you, the only thing you did remember was his positive comment that it tasted pretty good. You couldn’t help but smile, though your plate still stood untouched. Patrick noticed that, but didn’t make any comments about that.

“To be honest, I really didn’t expect it to be that nice,” he chuckled and finished his glass of mineral water that he didn’t really like. Quickly checking his Rolex, which he wore right after he took a shower, he added, “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go. Can you please bring me my clothes?”

“Sure.” You raised up and quickly strolled to the iron board where his suit and shirt were waiting to be presented to their owner. “Here, I ironed them for you.”

Bateman froze in shock for a moment. “You…ironed them?”

“Uh, yes, but I did it very carefully, I know everything you wear is utterly expensive,” you gave him his garments and he started to examine every thing with meticulous attention. “I…I thought you wouldn’t like to go outside in rumpled clothes.”

"That's… that's very sweet of you, Cupcake. Really…" he replied, his blush barely noticeable to anyone but you. "Thanks…thanks for everything."

“You’re welcome.” You murmured shyly, crossing your arms over the chest and watching him getting up from the table and walking to your bedroom to dress up.

Moments later, you both were standing in your small hallway, Patrick fixing his tie and coat, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“How do I look?” He asked nonchalantly, putting on the headphones of his Walkman.

Slightly upset, you leaned against the wall, your eyes gliding up and down his elegant, tall silhouette; the way the dark blue trench coat sat on his broad shoulders made you almost gasp in admiration.

“Perfect as always,” you stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You’re like a Vogue cover which came alive.”

Fluttered, Bateman smiled and caught your hand to place a kiss on top of it. “And I always believe your compliments, they are so…sincere or…” he paused and looked into your eyes. “...or I’m just fooling myself.”

His usual chuckling now was less happy and it stirred something inside of you, so when you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek, Patrick took it like another chance to be intimate with you. With unhidden tenderness, the man pulled you into his arms to seal your mouths with a soft but passionate kiss which brought some unexpected relief for both of you.

“You know, I…I really appreciate your courage to be open with me,” you suddenly confessed when he broke the kiss, still holding you close. “It’s just that I need some time to think over things and…my life is such a mess.”

"Oh, you don't have to tell me that," Bateman sneered ironically to himself. "Since I know who made your life so messy," he stopped you from saying anything else by pressing his finger to your lips. Then the man slowly leaned down so that your foreheads now touched in the most intimate way. "Promise me you won't take those pills again."

"And you promise me you won't say things like no one gives a fuck about you," you gripped his arm, rubbing his firm bicep under the soft fabric of his coat. "Because I do give a fuck about you, even though I don't really like it."

"We'll talk about...us. That's the only promise I can make right now."

"Us?"

"You heard what I said," he pinched your nose, just like after the fashion show. "I'll call you today and Cupcake?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, accidentally brushing his nose against your neck. "You're always on my mind, but I still haven't decided if it's good or not." The way he used your words to tease you brought a broad smile to your face, but the next time, all joy faded as the man stroked your cheek one last time before stepping aside to check himself in the mirror. "Hope to see you soon, darling."

With that he closed the door behind him and as much as you hated saying goodbye, you hated the moments like that, when you couldn’t control yourself as your emotions peaked, causing your knees to buckle and you stopped yourself from falling down only because you managed to lean on the nearby wall. The whole thing about your relationship with Bateman was one big mistake, as you would never find yourself belonging to this world—your meeting was a joke of fate—no less to say. Although you knew it, your heart was like a rebellion who refused to listen, to obey, to accept the truth that there were no chances to turn this situation in a way that would help these relationships to become healthy and normal. ‘Normal, huh? Do yuppies even know such a word?’ Laughing ironically to yourself, you got up and went back into your kitchen to wash the dishes. The sight of Patrick sitting here with a glass of water in his hand was still so fresh in your mind, but now you began to doubt if that really had happened. 

All day later, you couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, waiting for his call but he never did it. It was not surprising after the shit that man had done, but today you were really hoping he would keep his word. But your hopes were broken to pieces again, in the most brutal possible way because you really decided to give it a try and believed him.

When the night came to New York City, you were standing in your living room with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking about what would you do next and trying to think less about what Patrick was doing right now…and even less about with whom he probably could be. ‘...with Courtney or maybe with his fiance, Evelyn?’ You snickered sadly to yourself and finished your drink. Coffee was supposed to help you to keep awake but instead it only made you even more sleepy, so you didn’t even realize how you fell asleep on your little couch while putting down the notes of how today’s day had gone in your diary.

The next moment you were awakened by the sudden doorbell, which caught you off guard and even scared you a bit as you didn’t wait for anyone. Quickly enveloping your robe, you got up and saunted to the door to look at the peephole—you would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t expecting someone specific, but when you saw nothing but flowers, your heart skipped a beat. 

With one swift motion, you opened the door and an unknown guy instantly greeted you with a polite tone. “Good morning, miss (y/n),” he then handed you a big bouquet of red and white roses—it was so heavy you could barely hold it. “Uh, can you please put your sign here?”

Confused, you pressed the flowers to your chest to see the man’s face. “Are you… are you sure it’s for me?”

The courier only smiled and giggled. “Of course, but you can check the address, if you want,” the man showed you the paper with the order details. “We make no mistakes, miss, that’s why our service is the best around New York.”

“I see,” you responded and put your signature on the place he pointed you. “But, can I ask you who sent me this?”

“There’s a card inside if I’m not mistaken,” the courier replied and with that he put the paper inside his bag. “Have a good day, ma'am.”

“Thanks.” 

With that, you closed the door and somehow proceeded into your living room where you put the bouquet on the coffee table and began to look for the vase for it. When you managed to find it, you poured some water and placed the flowers into it, then you remembered the courier’s words about the card and the next second you were already leafing through the flowers. Soon, a small white card caught your attention and when you picked it out, the first thing you noticed was two beautiful letters—P.B. in the end of the text which said: 

“Good morning, my sweet Cupcake, 

I’m sorry I didn’t call you tonight, I was extremely busy and didn’t really have any free time, but I hope this little gift would cheer you up a bit. What do you think about going to a yacht club these weekends? I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon. 

Utterly yours, P.B.” 

Your hands began to shake the moment you finished reading, but you managed to regain your composure. Driven by the unbridled happiness inside your chest, you leaned down to inhale the sweet scent of flowers—God, it felt like a dream. And speaking of dreaming—you were still so sleepy that after you finally calmed down, you decided to come back into the bed and nap a little bit longer. The sheets were still smelling of him, coaxing you to rub your face against the pillows and imagine him being here with you and somehow, you finally realized how deep this man was rooted inside your heart. ‘Utterly yours…’ You kept replaying these words inside your head until you drifted off to another dream, but this time, it was not a nightmare, but a heaven where Patrick was only yours, and you were his only one.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[xerith-42]

Some things we may have forgotten

I've been rewatching MCD and taking extensive notes on it in hopes that I'll never have to watch it again and this is just a list of things that I don't see mentioned or brought up very often/ever that we should talk about and think about more

In the first episode Garroth tries to attack Vylad (angst potential) and Vylad literally just combat locks him by logging out of the game. This is objectively funny and should not be rewritten in any capacity. This should be canon as it is in every universe.

Aphmau's cat Meowki gets randomly killed in Episode 12 by a skeleton while Kiki is right upstairs. Just saying, there's some angst potential there.

In episode 11 Garroth reveals that he knows some medicine. Pretty sure this is never brought up again, but we could always bring it up.

Logan is apparently good with a bow while Zenix is trash at it despite being a self proclaimed "expert archer" which I think is very funny (I know this is part of Zenix's cover but what if we took it seriously it would be so funny)

Zoey is originally from the river village, as is Donna. Pretty sure they retcon that for Zoey, but I like to think the two of them could have been friends before Phoenix Drop.

Garroth actually almost dies in episode 15. Like Dr. Doctor says he will probably die soon at the start of the episode. And he doesn't get healed until episode 20. He literally spends 5 episodes laid up in bed dying.

Brendan's at his side probably angsting the entire time I'm just saying if you want sad gay fanfics, it's sitting right there!

Azura and Garroth were friends as kids??? Hello???? I think this is just a massive plot hole considering what Garroth's actual backstory ends up being asjfgshjdfgjk

Okay but if we twist it a little bit, they were friends as kids as in like at the guard academy??? Bc they're like vaguely teenage/young adult so maybe that's what she means? In which case I wanna think about that more because childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite romance arcs ever. But is it really childhood friends if you met when you were like... 18?? And you're in your like mid to late twenties probably, I wouldn't really classify that as childhood friends.

WAIT IT GETS WORSE!

I don't... I don't even have a joke here, this is just a massive plot hole. Like all of this is just not true to Garroth's backstory as we know it. Grew up in the same village? You mean O'Khasis?? Where Garroth also FAKED HIS DEATH????

I literally don't know what to say to this I was just trying to find silly little facts to try and incorporate into my rewrite and instead I found a massive gaping plot hole

Moving on, in episode 19 when Aphmau confronts Zenix and they fight, he actually apologizes to her. As if he regrets having to hurt her for the sake of his/the Shadow King's goals.

The Lord of Brightport says the Shadow King "used to be a lord". Which like... Okay, I can bend backwards a few ways to say that he could be referring to how Shad started Falcon Claw, but how the fuck does this dude know that??? I feel like Laurance constantly just stumbling into plot holes by complete accident

Dale is apparently a Garmau shipper, going as far as to ask Aphmau if she plans on hooking up with Garroth. I like to think that he and Molly have a bet going for how long it takes for one of the two of them to finally fess up.

Raven's mom tried to eat him??

Okay then.

[theesteppenwolf]

Ok y’all imma need you to listen to me on this and not take me the wrong way, i am just venting yet again. I need to get shit out of my system and yapping with others is the way i do it.

I love neve, she’s such a dope character, adore her to bits. Don’t be weird about her.

But every time i see scenes and lines of dialogue that Lucanis/ Neve get that 100% should’ve been there for Rook too i get pissed off. I can’t help it.

To be entirely clear on this, it’s not that i have a problem at all with them getting together if neither aren’t romanced it’s that the writing for their relationship highlights the glaring oversight Lucanis/Rook get.

Even the banter around them has more depth than what rook gets. His lock in scene is just a refurbished Neve one, one that’s again, more fulfilling if Neve is the one he romances. It’s just insane to me that someone looked at this and said “yeah players won’t have a problem with this”.

I am not one of those people that thinks Lucanis is just settling for Rook or he cares more about Neve than them, i think that’s too doomery and untrue narratively. But they fucked up the writing for Rookanis so bad that i completely get where that is coming from.

I have a shit ton of hcs to make his whole romance arc better but then i see something from the Neve/Lucanis one and i am reminded that they really didn’t give a shit in the actual game. Again it's the quality and quantity of the writing that i am getting angry at by comparison, not the general concept of them being together. I can't stress that enough.

If Mary Kirby managed to write (or cowrite) the whole thing with Neve and those scenes/dialogue i really don’t understand why Rook barely exists in theirs until the very end of the game.

Ok i am done, vent over. Again please don’t say weird shit about Neve and be hateful. I don’t want another fem character getting an absurd amount of hate for something writers did.

[krirebr]

More Than This 5

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, Linda being Linda, all of the Thrombeys being really awful actually, explicit language, references to bad sex, flagrant disregard for HIPAA (actually, just assume that HIPAA doesn't exist in this universe), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Oh god. I promise that there will be a point when this isn't so sad all the time and that point is soon. But it also isn't today. I'm so sorry. 😬

Huge thanks as always to @paperweight91 who listened to me whine and read countless fuzzy screenshots, and gave great advice and was just all around awesome. And to @stargazingfangirl18 who reached out with encouragement when the words just weren't coming.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Ransom had the complete collection of Harlan’s books. You couldn’t say exactly why that surprised you, but it did. He even had the two poorly-received romance novels Harlan had written under a pseudonym. You hadn’t known the two of them were so close, but then again, you still didn’t really know anything about Ransom.

So that’s what you’d been doing with your days, making your way through Harlan’s complete works. You were currently reading one about an au pair that had been found dead in her charge’s locked nursery when your phone rang. 

Your brow furrowed. The list of people who ever contacted you had gotten much shorter since you’d moved to Boston. Steve, Ransom, Linda unfortunately. That was pretty much it. You looked down at your phone to see your mother’s name. Oh.

You’d expected her to reach out in some way since your wedding and had tried very hard not to feel hurt when she hadn’t. Everyone’s lives had moved on. You were the only one stuck. But you still hadn’t had it in you to be the one who called her. You took a deep breath and answered your phone.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Honey! How are you?”

You kept in your sigh. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“Good, good,” she said, but she sounded sad. She always sounded so fucking sad. It struck you then, that that’s probably how you’d sound too, in ten or twenty years. Maybe less. Probably a lot less. “It’s so nice to hear your voice honey.”

“Yeah,” you said, and, pathetically, you could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes. You weren’t angry with her. You couldn’t be. It wasn’t her fault she was so broken. It was inevitable. For all of you. And your frustration with her didn’t change how much you missed her. Missed home. Missed the way things used to be. “It’s good to hear you too.”

“I know it’s been a while,” she said softly, “but I wanted to give you a chance to get settled. How are things going?”

“They’re going fine,” you said quietly. You paused. You didn’t want to say anything bad or worry anyone, but also it was your mom. “I don’t know. It’s different here. I don’t have anything to do.” 

She just chuckled. “Cherish that. It’ll change soon and then you’ll miss this time.” You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. After a few moments of silence, she continued. “And how’s Ransom?”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t want to talk about him. Things had been… better since your panic attack. He came home at a decent hour regularly. You fucked most nights now. But he was still just this looming presence. You didn’t know what to do with him. “He’s fine,” you said with a shrug.

That was apparently the wrong answer, judging by the little hum she made. “I know it’s hard at the beginning. When I first married your father–” she cut herself off with a deep breath. “Remember, honey, keeping him happy is your one job now. It’ll get easier the longer you do it.”

A few tears finally broke free and fell down your cheeks. “I don’t– I don’t know him. I don’t know what makes him happy.”

“Then finding out will be a good use of your free time, won’t it?” You glanced at the book beside you, feeling shamed in spite of yourself. “I know it feels so hard, but men are shockingly easy. They just want to be taken care of. That’s all you have to do. Make him dinner. Keep his home warm. Give him heirs. Don’t argue. That’s all. You’re going to be such a good wife to him, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You shrunk down into the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees, making yourself as small as possible. You hated this. Hated that she didn’t want more for you. That she’d never tried to give you more. But you were tired, too, of being upset with her for not doing the impossible. What else was she supposed to have done? What else could she give you when she didn’t have anything herself? “Ok,” you whispered. It was all you could manage.

“Joseph says hello, of course,” she said, and you wanted to laugh. He’d done no such thing. “He’s so proud that you’ve made such a good match. He’ll be happy to hear it’s going well.”

“Mmm,” was all you were able to say. You hated this. You couldn’t do it anymore. “It’s so good to hear from you, mom. But uh, I have to– I have to go.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Well, alright. I miss you so much, sweetheart. We’ll talk again soon. I love you.”

You could barely hold the tears back now. “I love you too,” you said, your voice thick. “Bye.” The moment you hung up the phone, the damn broke. You couldn’t stop it. You cried for your mom. You cried for yourself. You cried for the way everything had changed and there was no going back. You cried because this was a day when it felt like no one on earth was on your side. A shaking Lola forced her way into your lap and you held her until you were able to calm down.

Once you’d stopped crying, you looked around. You couldn’t sit still, your mother’s words ringing in your ears. Your eyes locked on the kitchen. That was something you could do. You glanced at the time. If Ransom came home at his new regular time, it would be tight, but you could do it if you made something simple. But not too simple. Something that showed effort. That you were trying. 

You got up and looked in the fridge. All those tidy little glass containers full of meals his housekeeper, Carol, made. You’d never felt like they were taunting you before, but now. Now you wanted to smash them. You could do this. You could make him like you. Show him what you were worth. You could make yourself a life better than your mother’s, maybe. Get him on your side.

There weren’t a ton of raw ingredients, but after combing through the entire contents of the fridge and pantry, you found what you’d need for a decent spaghetti. Carol was probably planning it for later in the week. Well, now she wouldn’t have to. You’d do it yourself.

You put some music on and got to work. Losing yourself in the prep. But you’d lost yourself too much maybe, because you were still chopping when Ransom walked in the door. 

Lola, of course, rushed to greet him. It still rankled. She didn’t realize that one wrong move would have him kicking her out. His words from that first dinner had never left your mind. But a few days ago, he’d started reaching down to pet her as she danced around him. You didn’t know what either of them were playing at.

He looked at you, now trying to hurry through the rest of your prep, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m making dinner,” you said, gesturing to all your work obviously. You looked at the time. You weren’t slow. He was early. Why the fuck was he early? He was ruining all your plans.

“Why?” he asked as he took off his coat, then shoes. “Carol’s put plenty of meals in the fridge.”

“Because I wanted to!” You said, your knife coming down on the onion under your hand too hard.

The knife hitting the cutting board caught his attention. He looked at what you were doing. “I don’t like onions.”

You threw down the knife more carelessly than you should have. It slid across the cutting board before coming to a stop at the edge of the counter. “Then why were they in the pantry?!”

“How should I know?!” he shouted back, matching your tone. But then he looked at you and stopped. “Have you been crying? What happened?”

You froze. Shit. You hadn’t even thought to check what you looked like. You swiped at your face and turned away. “It’s the onions. Obviously.”

“Your face– that looks like more than onions.” He now stood at the edge of the kitchen, only the island between you.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, then forced yourself to take a breath. “My mom called,” you conceded. “It’s fine.”

“Oh,” was all he said for a moment and then, “You and your parents are close then?”

You couldn’t explain why the question irritated you so much. Maybe it was the assumption of homesickness. Or referring to Joseph as your parent. Or just him being here earlier than he was supposed to be, asking you anything. You couldn’t keep the shortness out of your voice when you responded, “My mom. Sometimes.” 

You looked around at your progress, the mess you’d made, the onions he didn’t want. So much for keeping him happy. What a stupid idea. You felt done. Over everything. You began cleaning up all the food, scooping it into the garbage.

“What are you doing?”

“I changed my mind! You don’t want any of this anyway. Have one of Carol’s fucking dinners.”

“The fuck is going on with you?!” he shouted as he watched you clean up the kitchen.

“I changed my mind,” you repeated, throwing the cutting board into the sink. “I’m not hungry. I’m going upstairs.” You stomped over to the staircase.

“You’re not going to eat anything?” he called after you.

“No! I’m fine!” You shouted as you took the first few stairs.

“Yeah, you sure seem fucking fine,” he grumbled as he headed to the fridge. 

You stopped and glared at him. “Wake me if I’m asleep when you come up. I’m ovulating, so. Tonight’s important.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, flatly. “I got your text.” That was news to you. He'd never responded to it. As you turned to continue up the stairs, you heard him add under his breath, “Although I’m not sure why you feel like you need to be awake for it.”

You stopped and turned around, coming back down a step. “What was that?!”

He turned to you, one of Carol’s glass containers in his hand, and sighed. “Nothing. I’ve had a long day.” You just stared at each other and then he added, “Aren’t you tired of it being such a chore?”

Something crumpled in you at that, but you didn’t want to stop and look at what it was. “Well,” you said. “The sooner I’m pregnant, the sooner it won’t be.” Then you turned and stomped the rest of the way upstairs. 

When he woke you later that night, he was already ready to go. You didn’t even take off your pajamas, just slid your shorts down to your calves. He was right. It was a chore.

It was a few days later when he texted you in the middle of the day. You were hiding in the bedroom while Carol cleaned downstairs. She was still mad that you’d wasted the spaghetti ingredients. You were reading in bed with Lola when your phone buzzed beside you.

Big family thing at Harlan’s on Saturday. We’ll be expected.

For some reason, it was the ‘we’ that caught you. It was the first time you’d realized you were a package deal now. If Ransom was invited somewhere, you would accompany him. And vice versa if you were ever invited anywhere. You couldn’t imagine it, with how small your world had gotten. 

The rest of his message caught up with you. His family. Linda had reached out multiple times since her awful visit. Every time you spoke to her, you got so small. You worried that prolonged exposure to her might cause you to completely disappear.

Aside from his parents, you’d barely interacted with the rest of his family at the wedding. It would be fine. You would be fine. You’d have to be. They were your family now too. You’d be seeing so much of them. For the rest of your life. You ignored how much your chest tightened at that thought.

Saturday came too soon.

Ransom paced around the bedroom while you both got ready. You’d never seen him like this before. He wasn’t dressed. He just kept walking in and out of his closet. And looking at you. You didn’t know if you were doing something wrong. He didn’t say anything, he just couldn’t keep still. The one time you’d asked if he was alright, he’d barked back at you that he was fine, so you hadn’t asked again. 

Watching him pace around was making you even more anxious than you already were. So you focused all you could on getting yourself ready. You’d asked Ransom earlier if his family dressed for dinner and he’d just grunted in response. But it felt like a no, so you wore one of your favorite day dresses. It was your favorite color. You hoped it would give you confidence. You did your hair. You put diamond studs in your ears, with a matching tennis bracelet on your wrist. Reasonable heels on your feet. A spritz of perfume on your pulse points. It was the best you could do without more information.

You stood in the middle of the bedroom once you were done. Ransom was still undressed, still moving. “Uh,” you ventured, hesitantly, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. “Will we have enough time to get there?”

“Who gives a shit?” he growled, thundering back into his closet. A few moments later he came back out, wearing dress slacks and a cream cable-knit sweater. There were holes in it. You could see them clearly from the other side of the room. 

“Ransom,” you said softly, oddly feeling like you were speaking to a spooked animal, “don’t you think that sweater’s a little worn?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he rasped. “Let’s go.” Then he was out of the room and halfway down the stairs, with you scrambling to keep up behind him. 

The drive to Harlan’s country estate was mostly silent. You’d tried to turn on the radio at one point, but Ransom just turned it right back off. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his hands were bright red. You wondered if he was hurting himself. You didn’t know why he was so stressed. You were the one about to walk into the lion’s den, the one who had no idea what was waiting for you. It was his family. He’d be fine. You had no idea if you would be. You rested your hands in your lap, clutching them, and settled into the silence.

You knew that Harlan lived quite a ways out of town, but you still got to his home much too quickly. The large mansion loomed over you as Ransom parked his car amongst the others in the drive. He turned off the ignition and then just sat there, staring ahead. Just as you were about to call his name, he slapped the steering wheel harshly with one hand then growled “Let’s go!” to you and got out of the car. Once again, you scrambled after him, but this time, he slowed, slightly, to let you catch up. Once you had, he put a firm hand on the small of your back and ushered you up the path and into the house. You didn’t have time to react to that or try to figure out what on earth he was doing before you were greeted by a woman Ransom snidely called Franny. She responded with a very curt “Hugh” of her own then introduced herself to you as the housekeeper. She took your coats, and then Ransom’s hand was back on you, guiding you into a sitting room.

The entire family was already there, most with drinks in hand, and they all turned to watch you enter. You felt pinned by their gazes. “Well!” Ransom’s uncle Walt called out. “Look who finally decided to show. And just in time for the food, of course!” 

Ransom stiffened slightly beside you then smirked. “Well, thank god we’re in time for your fifth drink, Walt. Who’d want to miss that?”

Walt scowled as he got up from his seat, then lumbered across the room, knocking his shoulder into Ransom’s as he passed and jostling you in the process. You started to sway a little, and Ransom’s hand immediately came to your hip to try to steady you. Your gaze flitted down to it, but just as quickly it was gone.

Everyone else began to get up and make their way out of the room. Meg, at least, gave you a small smile and wave, but otherwise, you were mostly ignored. That was, at least, until there were only three people left, Ransom’s parents and Harlan. 

Harlan immediately hugged you. “It’s wonderful to see you, my dear. You look so lovely.” He took a step back to look at you both. “I trust you’re taking good care of each other. This is one of the most important times in your marriage. I hope you’re cherishing it.” 

“Sure Grandad,” Ransom snarked, “we’re loving being married to a complete stranger.”

“Ah, now, you’ll only remain strangers if you let that happen.”

You saw Ransom about to open his mouth to say something else, so you jumped in with a quiet, “Thank you, Harlan, we really appreciate that.”

Harlan smiled at you, big and genuine, and then clapped Ransom on the shoulder. “See, my boy,” he said. “I knew she was exactly what you needed!” 

Ransom’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to respond either. Harlan’s kindness had a way of making you feel invisible. 

Linda stepped up to you all then. “Darling,” she said, her tone dripping friendliness in a way that made you brace for impact. “I see not even your positive influence can make my son be on time. How disappointing.” She added a little chuckle onto the end, but you took it as the reprimand it was meant to be. You pasted on your most benign smile, but as always, she made you feel about a foot tall. You had no idea how anyone thought you were supposed to make this man do anything. Like he cared about what you thought or wanted. Like you had any power at all. 

“Is that why you married me off, mother?” Ransom asked, matching her friendly tone, but when you looked up at him, his eyes were hard. “So there’d be someone to handle me?”

“Well,” she said, a placid smile on her face to match your own, “someone has to. Lord knows you haven’t listened to me in years.”

“And yet,” Ransom said, his tone dropping all friendliness, “you still got me here, didn’t you?” 

The look on his face startled you. You’d never seen him this angry. Without thinking, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. At your touch, his eyes snapped to yours. You weren’t sure exactly what he found there, you felt lost enough that you couldn’t imagine your expression was much help, but after staring at you for what felt like an age, he gave you the smallest nod and relaxed his posture. 

“We don’t want dinner to get cold,” Harlan called from the doorway.

Linda straightened, finally ending the standoff with her son. “Yes, of course,” she said. Then she looked at you, really looked, her eyes traveling up and down your body, taking in all of you and everything you were wearing. She quirked her eyebrow at you and let out a distinctly judgemental little hum. Then that friendly smile was back and she turned away from you. “Oh, Dad, there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said as they both left the room.

You stared after her. You didn’t know what you’d done wrong. You’d looked at everyone when you’d arrived and confirmed that you weren’t under or overdressed. She herself was wearing a simple but smart pantsuit. Your clothes were nice, clean, and pressed. You were put together. What could her problem possibly be? You tried to breathe but you could still feel her looking at you and your chest was so tight.

You were brought back to the present by Richard wrapping you in a hug. His lips brushed your cheek as he said, “So nice to see you again, honey.” Then one of his hands on your back traveled lower until it grazed the top of your ass. You couldn’t help the way you jumped.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Dad?” Ransom shouted next to you. “I’m standing right here!”

Richard pulled away and you took a deep breath at being free of him. What the hell had just happened?

“What?” Richard rounded on his son. “I can’t greet my daughter-in-law? You’re so sensitive, Ransom. A little attention is flattering, isn’t it, honey?” 

They were both staring at you. You knew you needed to say something but all you could do in your shock was gape at them. 

Ransom wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you close to him. “You’re a fucking creep,” he growled.

Richard just scowled and made his way to the hall. “Disrepectful little shit,” he muttered as he left the room.

It wasn’t until his father was completely gone that Ransom dropped his arm from around you. He looked you right in the eye, his face so serious, as he asked, “Are you ok?” And there was something in his tone, fear maybe, that startled you just as much as Richard’s hand.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, your voice shaking only the slightest bit. When he still didn’t release you from his gaze, you brushed your fingers over his arm. “I’m alright.”

Finally, he nodded but didn’t really relax. “He’s–” he began, but cut himself off. “Just, watch out for him.”

“Ok,” you said, trying to sound strong. Reassuring. Ransom still just stood there. “Are– are you alright?” 

That seemed to bring him out of wherever he’d been. “What?” he asked, somewhat sharply. “Yeah, of course. Come on,” he said, turning to the doorway. “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

Everyone else was already seated at the large dining room table when you came in. Ransom guided you over to the two empty chairs in the middle of one side and pulled yours out for you before seating himself. The catering staff moved around the table setting down plates and pouring wine for everyone. But when the server got to you, they moved past you without pouring anything. In case you were pregnant. Of course. That was fine. You just hoped no one else noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Ransom said from beside you and your stomach dropped. “Is there a reason my wife isn’t being served wine tonight?” 

“Ransom,” you whispered, still hoping everyone would just ignore it, but it was too late.

From the other side of the table, Walt piped up liked he’d just been waiting for an opportunity. “Maybe the staff got confused and didn’t realize she’s old enough to drink.” His eyes sparkled and he grinned, proud of himself, as it took every muscle in your body not to shrink down in your seat. 

“Great catch, Walt! You’re right. She is still much younger than me. Like I said before, and I’m sure I’ll have to say again, neither of us chose this. I would’ve thought that’d be a concept you’re familiar with, seeing as how you practically begged Harlan not to make you marry Donna.”

“Ransom!” you admonished quietly. Your eyes cut to the willowy blonde sitting next to Walt, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You had no doubt that he deserved this, but you had no idea if she did. 

Ransom’s eyes cut to you. “You’re right,” he said, before looking back at his aunt and uncle. “I should be nicer to Donna. I’m sure being married to Walt is punishment enough.”

“You little shit!” Walt responded. “I’ll have you know my wife is very happy. Which I’m sure is more than you can say for yours! What’s it been, a month? Two? And she already looks completely miserable.” 

You felt all eyes turn to you again and you weren’t sure you’d ever felt more self-conscious in your life. Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t say anything, so you picked up your fork and took a bite of the fish you’d just been served. It didn’t taste like anything.

From your left, Joanie spoke up. “Hey, those first few months of marriage are hard. But so rewarding. I know when Neal and I were first married–”

“Yes, Joanie,” Linda cut in, dryly. “My brother was a saint and we all miss him very much.” She turned back to her son. “There’s no need to get upset, Ransom. We just didn’t want to accidentally serve a pregnant woman alcohol. Better safe than sorry.” She picked up her own fork to begin eating. “Speaking of, if the two of you have an announcement to make, now’d be the perfect time.”

You couldn’t stop your grimace. Ransom stiffened next to you, then answered, “No. No announcement.”

“It’ll come,” Harlan finally joined in from his place at the head of the table. “There’s still plenty of time.”

From the other end of the table, a teenage boy you’d never even met before said, “Maybe not. Maybe she’s barren.” And you felt all the wind go out of you.

“Oh fuck off, you little incel shit!” Ransom shouted.

“She isn’t barren, Jacob,” Linda said, calmly. “We have all her medical records to confirm she’s perfectly fertile.”

You could’ve sworn you blacked out at the moment. You’d known, on some level, that if there was a clause in the contract, it’d come with some sort of confirmation that, at least on your side, it was even possible. But to know that they had your medical records and now were discussing them like you weren’t even here, like you just didn’t matter… You hoped the earth might open up and swallow you whole.

You felt a gentle hand land on your knee but it didn’t really register. Nothing did. You didn’t know where the conversation went from there. You couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears. It was all you could do to keep breathing. But you knew they all kept sniping at each other. And you felt the anger radiating off of Ransom the entire time. 

The clinking of plates and scraping of chairs finally got you out of your stupor as the family got out of their chairs and staff started clearing the dishes. You looked over at Ransom, for help or support maybe, you didn’t really know. But he also looked like he’d gone somewhere else. He could barely meet your gaze.

You were still numb as people made their way back to the original sitting room. You just needed to make it through the rest of the evening. You could do that. Just as you had gotten to the other room, Harlan stopped Ransom with a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like a word in private with you, my boy.”

Ransom looked at you for a moment, then sighed and said softly, “I’ll be right back,” before following his grandfather deeper into the house.

And then you were alone. You were at a loss as to what to do with yourself, so you went back into the sitting room and settled on a vacant couch. Not everyone had migrated there.  There were only a few people in the room now. Jacob sat in the corner, hunched over his phone, but every once in a while he would look up, catch your eye, and smirk at you. It had you sliding further back in your seat. His mother was no help. Donna was slumped over in an armchair, still cradling half a glass of wine. Meg had already shrugged on her coat, giving a hurried wave as she moved through the room. And Richard–

Richard sat down next to you. You slid down the couch as subtly as you could. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”

Alarm bells went off through your whole body. You saw Ransom’s face again, from earlier. How angry, yes, but more than that ashamed and unsurprised. How he’d looked at you. How he’d asked if you were ok. How it’d felt urgent. “It was a busy day,” you gritted out, trying to think of any way to get yourself out of this room.

“Ransom is a very lucky man,” he said, inching closer, his arm draped over the back of the couch, “to have such a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled uncomfortably. “That’s very sweet.” You looked around helplessly. As he opened his mouth to say something else, you stood up. “I’m going to go get myself some water. Do you need anything?” you asked, but didn’t give him a chance to answer. “No? Ok, I’ll be right back.” And then you fled.

You hurried down the hall toward the kitchen but slowed when you heard voices. You picked out Joanie first, then Linda. You slowed to a stop right outside the kitchen door, trying to weigh just how much you wanted that water. Was it worth facing them? Were they any better than Richard?

“Okay,” Joanie said, “but what do you really think about her?” Your stomach dropped. You tried to reassure yourself that they could be talking about anything, anyone. You pressed closer to the door as quietly as you could.

“I think,” Linda said, then paused while you heard the clink of glassware, “that she will serve her purpose just fine.”

Joanie laughed. “I just have a hard time picturing Ransom with such a mouse.” You closed your eyes. You should go right now. Nothing they had to say would be of any help to you. But, despite your best interests, you were rooted to the spot.

“She definitely wasn’t chosen for her personality, but Ransom understands how good this will be for the whole family. How important it is”

“Oh, of course,” Joanie simpered, and you just hated both of these women so much at that moment, maybe more than you’d ever hated anyone. “I just feel so bad for him. He must be so bored.”

“Listen, I told him that he just needs to get her pregnant, and then he can do whatever he needs to do. Once he has an heir. As long as he’s discreet, of course.”  

Joanie cackled. “You didn’t! Oh, you’re so bad!”

“He might already be behind on that one, anyway,” Linda said, and you could practically hear her smirk. But you didn’t know what she could possibly be talking about. She didn’t know you and there was no one– unless. Oh god.

“Well.” Linda continued. “You know, she and her step-brother are very close, if you know what I mean.”

“Really?” Joanie asked, fucking eagerly.

“Mhmm,” Linda hummed. “Did you not see them at the wedding? They were practically hanging all over each other. He had to be kicked out of her dressing room.”

“No! Does Ransom know?”

“Well, I haven’t told him yet. You know how he gets. I’m waiting for the right time.”

“You know what they call that on the internet, don’t you?”

Linda sighed. “You know that I don’t, Joanie.”

“Stepcest!” Joanie said gleefully.

And that was it. That was all you could do. This fucking family. How– Why? You’d never done anything. You hadn’t even chosen to be here! And they still took so much joy in cutting you down. And if Linda managed to get to Ransom and tell him… Who knows what he’d do?

You moved as quietly as you could back down the hall, swiping at the tears beginning to gather in your eyes, hoping not to call any attention to yourself, when shouts suddenly erupted from the other side of the house. As soon as you recognized one of the raised voices as Ransom’s, you began to hurry in that direction. 

You hadn’t made it very far before he came barreling out in your direction. “Get your coat,” he growled. “We’re leaving.”

You didn’t argue, more than ready to get out of there yourself. You followed him to the closet, and then once you both had your coats, out the door. The crisp night air was bracing after feeling suffocated in that house for hours. Neither of you said anything as you got into Ransom’s car.

It wasn’t until you were fully off Harlan’s property that you felt brave enough to ask, “Is everything alright?”

He glanced at you before returning his eyes to the road and letting out a humorless chuckle. “Sure,” he said.

“What– What did he want to talk to you about?”

“Just his same old bullshit,” he scoffed.

“I–” you had no idea what to say. “Is it always like that?” You felt foolish as soon as you asked. Of course, it was. You could tell.

“Oh, no,” he said, and his tone was so cold, so detached, that you couldn’t help but stare. This felt like a brand new Ransom. “Sometimes it’s really bad.”

You didn’t say anything to that. You had no idea what to do with this sudden urge to comfort him, this man who had so much power over you, this man you couldn’t even say you liked most days. Especially after what you’d just been through. So you kept your hands in your lap and stared out the window.

After a few minutes of silence, he surprised you by being the one to break it. “So. I bet your family looks like the fucking Waltons compared to that.”

You thought of dinner with your own family. Joseph crowing loudly about his successes. Your mother cowering the moment any small thing went wrong. Steve getting into screaming matches with his father. You feeling invisible, on a good day. “No,” you said, hollowly. “Not really.” He turned his head sharply to look at you and you held his gaze for just a moment before he had to look back at the road. There was one large difference though. You’d always had Steve. As far as you could tell, Ransom didn’t have anyone.

That thought led you back to what you’d heard right before you’d left and your anxiety returned. “Steve and I–” you blurted out. “He’s my brother.”

Ransom’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, yeah, I am aware of that.”

You shook your head. “No, I just– I know we aren’t related biologically, but– Nothing’s ever happened between us. Not ever. He’s my brother.”

“What the fuck?!” he called out as he made a left turn more sharply than necessary. “Why would you–” he cut himself off. “Did someone say something to you?”

You ignored his question. “I just–” you said, “I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Neither of you said anything else for the rest of the drive.

When you got back to his house, Ransom went straight upstairs while you let Lola out one last time before bed. When you joined him in the bedroom once that was done, he was already in bed. “Listen,” he said softly, “I know you’re probably even more anxious about this whole thing after– I just, I’m really fucking tired. Is it ok if we don’t– If we just go to bed?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. You were just as tired and didn’t think you could deal with all that after everything else that had happened that day. You quickly went through your nighttime routine in the bathroom. When you came back out once you’d finished, you found Ransom still awake, lying on his back staring at the ceiling. Lola was curled up at his side and he absently scratched her belly. You climbed into bed and turned the lamp off, turning onto your side. You felt him move behind you, scooting closer, not enough that you were touching at all, but you could feel his body heat. It was oddly soothing. You closed your eyes and hoped sleep would come fast, ready for this day to be over.

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Pile One

You’re shocking people with the ways that you are healing yourself. What they see as they witness your transformation, is the walking embodiment of a high priestess, the keeper of knowledge and a vessel of magnificent secrets. Who you are, in this healing era that you are in, is an enigma that won’t be locked away or censored. The way that you’re healing is spiritually ancestral. You possess the kind of wisdom that isn’t gained from age, it’s inherited. You’re a generational curse breaker, someone in your bloodline who finally recognizes a poisonous pattern in your family with the strength to be the one to not consume it. You’re observant, you’re emotionally intelligent, and you have a mind of your own even when growing up in an environment that was meant to control you, this era is making you embrace the thorns in your roses. You’re becoming the modern-day Joan of Arc by having more self-conviction even when being outnumbered by people trying to convince you out of what you know to be true. You’re healing the perception of purity and time in not just yourself but others too. If you grew up sheltered with a family relative that infantilized you with malicious intent to keep you dependent on them, your healing era is helping you break out of those barriers that kept you from making choices to improve your happiness, success, and progression. You’re no longer afraid of getting hurt or “tainted” in this world, you’re living for yourself and what makes you complete. Learning feels like freedom now because fear is no longer your teacher. Don’t feel down about being a late bloomer because it is better to be late than never, there may be people in this pile who approaching their 30s/40s and feel like they haven’t accomplished anything, but your healing era is reminding you that it is never too late. People forget that youth is ever flowing, you can’t flourish by remaining stagnant because of how you think you should be to achieve something. Don’t underestimate how massive things can change for you when you believe in how capable success is, as you already are. Your healing era is a correcting history, you won’t be burned at the stake this time, you’re going to be walking through fire by knowing that the secret power is to just keep moving.

Pile two

Immediately, I’m hearing “tuh...”. Yeah! This era in your healing journey has been long overdue, but at last bitch, it’s here. Speaking of bitch, you’re finally understanding that you’re THAT one, and you shouldn’t be humble about it anymore. Your enemies knew this before you did though, and of course, they had to attempt to knock you down a peg to make themselves feel better. This goes beyond people simply trying to make it seem like you’re not attractive when you are or people noticing your light but pretending not to see you until they get the validation from other people to do so. Your healing era is very much like this video I saw where people are like “it ain’t that deep” and this girl said, “okay puddle, I’m the ocean”, you’re realizing that yes, you cannot control the people that act crazy towards you because of their insecurities, but you can control and make it known about what you will not allow, and this is about your personal day-to-day interactions with people, like not keeping it in about the things that offend you and constantly giving grace to people who know that they’re exhibiting petty behavior to disrespect you. To stop trying to make “IDGAF” wars happen when you know that you actually do care about things, and it’s okay to do that regardless of what society thinks is cool nowadays. Your healing era consists of a makeover in love by no longer settling for shallow relationships or the utter thought of a situationship when you know that you want to be romanced and catered to like a deity. You’re bulldozing so much of who or what isn’t supportive for what you need as a person, and you aren’t afraid to do it because you now know your worth and that you have the tools to build everything over and this time in your image. Your social circle is improving, your experiences in loving others and being loved is improving, finances improving, and your skin might even be improving because this entire era of your healing is like one huge detox, you’re clearing out the toxicity out of your inner world. The words that debilitate your self-esteem, the people that say you can’t do something like starting your own business or going for that one opportunity that may get you to that amazing breakthrough, negative people and habits that make you believe the worst about yourself or that your life won’t get any better. Your healing era is about your life becoming the royal throne made to match the royal person such as yourself.

Pile Three

“You have a natural allegiance to losers and it’s unlike you”. Your healing era has a lot to do with removing yourself from situations that put you out of character. You’re moving towards more peaceful times and understanding how valuable your own energy is with an elevated fondness for spending time with yourself. You’re going to experience the kind of solitude that isn’t a punishment, but a strange feeling that may take some time to adjust to but at the same time, it’s familiar. Your healing era is about returning to normal and unlearning from the experiences that have left swords in your back. Maybe you grew up around “love”, your family and upbringing didn’t have to be perfect, but there was this innocence that you had before being out in the real world, this can look like experiencing emotionally unavailable people with communication issues and situations that have desensitized you. You could be questioning yourself about the people that are currently making you feel out of place right now, wondering what’s keeping you in these spaces that make you feel deprived of something or this paradox of still feeling empty and alone in a room filled with people. You’re healing from these effects of experiencing deficits, you don’t have to put up with certain things just to prove yourself to others or to make space for someone who doesn’t deserve to be in your life. How people perceive you in your healing era is someone who is genuinely unbothered and no longer giving your all to a situation that is unrequited. They see you full of life again instead of depleted from always putting yourself below others. They also see you essentially as someone that they can no longer exploit. You could be more private now, so it leaves others curious as to what you’re up to. You’re truly moving in silence because you’re noticing how beneficial it is to protect your intimate and professional life, people can act like they’re concerned about you or like they’re supportive until they see that you are doing better than them or up to something big. You’re focused on yourself, and it shows how much you’re manifesting your goals and even though looks aren’t everything, people are finding you to be majestically beautiful, your peace looks good on you. Keep protecting it.

[the-sage-libriomancer]

actually one thing i like about Romantic Killer that doesn't get talked about much is how Anzu definitely needed the jolt to her routine when Riri showed up. like it's perfectly fine that she doesn't want a boyfriend and isn't interested in love, but she also didn't have any friends, wasn't going out to do activities or hang out with people, and never put any effort into bettering herself. her life outside of school was literally just video games and chocolate - it looks like she relied on playing video games with her classmates during middle school, then stopped once it became socially unacceptable (or just too difficult) to keep up the relationships and then never made any friends outside of Saki. that's not healthy!

i mean yeah, the "getting trapped in a dating sim against her will" thing is completely unfair for Anzu, but it's probably what saved her from getting too comfortable with avoiding people. as much as i laugh at/relate to Anzu gushing over her husbandos, you really get the sense that pre-series Anzu doesn't like real people all that much specifically because they're not fictional people with fictional emotions. the way she opens up to Kazuki, Junta, Hijiri, and even Riri is genuinely a joy to watch, and even if it's only because of Otome Shoujo Cliches come to life, doing things like getting a job and going on dates are all great ways for Anzu to break out of her comfort zone.

basically i love that the story doesn't force Anzu to fall in love or accept an unwanted romance, but it isn't advocating for her antisocial lifestyle either. the main message of the series is first and foremost "connections with your fellow humans matter whether you like it or not" and it's a lesson that Anzu actively has to relearn after locking herself away from people for most of high school.

and i think that's neat.

[starglow-xx]

star's blue lock fic recs!

below the links are my own personal notes with a short plot blurb! a heart means it’s one of my personal faves! (but actually i just love all these fics so, so much)

im a heavy isagi simp so rn it's basically all him oops but i'll eventually add my fave fics for other characters too hehe

want more fic recs? see fic rec master list post here! all fic masterlists will be updated randomly!

✧.* Challenge Accepted : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ isagi yoichi you are a star

ᰔᩚ in which isagi is used as a chess piece for the jfa for more money and views by placing him in an exhibition match against ichinan high school with a certain someone taking his old spot as forward.

OR in which isagi yoichi proves he isn't just a lucky shot

ᰔᩚ status: complete! 3 chapters & 17,021 words

💗 More Than A Memory : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ sobbing over little isagi he's the cutest thing i just wanna pinch his little cheeks :(

ᰔᩚ isagi gets to meet his idol noel noa on his birthday and everything comes full circle 10 years later

ᰔᩚ bonus! the blue lock boys find out it's isagi birthday and chaos breaks loose as isagi and noel noa have a heart to heart

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 7,107 words

✧.* A Reason to Celebrate : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ isagi yoichi you are so, so loved & deserve nothing but the best

ᰔᩚ in which ego lets everyone know it's their favorite striker's birthday

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 6,371 words

💗 That's My Ego : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ AKSSVNSL i adore this fic sm, they're so cute i cannot

ᰔᩚ blue lock with a fem! isagi! some others are gender bent too but see fic for more hehe

ᰔᩚ sports with shoujo! follows the blue lock plot but has hints of romance as a side (?) plot mwah mwah

ᰔᩚ status: incomplete ; last updated april 19, 2023 ; 16 chapters & 85,024 words

💗💗💗 Butterfly Flutterby : ̗̀➛ ao3 link (but can also be found on quotev!)

ᰔᩚ this fic has my heart 10/10, i always reread ; i will never not recommend this fic, it’s honestly one of my faves of all time ; still patiently waiting for the next update :((

ᰔᩚ fem reader insert! the interactions with the blue lock boys are always so cute and so is mc i wanna squish her (our??) cheeks (author refers to her as rea-chan in the notes so sometimes i read it as an oc fic teehee)

ᰔᩚ mc gets chosen to be a manager for the blue lock program, competing alongside other managers facing risk of elimination like the boys

ᰔᩚ slight hints of romance/possible pairings but very minimal ; focus for now is being friends/a good manager

ᰔᩚ status: incomplete ; last updated march 19, 2023 ; 12 chapters & 64,042 words

ISAGI YOICHI

✧.* Hometown Hero : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ need more fics abt reuniting with isagi post blue lock bc man the angst potential is great :(

ᰔᩚ fem! reader where mc and isagi, her childhood friend, reunite but he's a bit different than how she remembered him

ᰔᩚ some angst but has a happy ending!

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 2,862 words

✧.* Fake It 'til We Make It : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ fake dating! do i need to say more

ᰔᩚ no pronouns! gender neutral reader!

ᰔᩚ a bit of angst but happy ending! :D

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 3,270 words

💗💗 if i had a choice : ̗̀➛ tumblr link

ᰔᩚ crying bc i want isagi to want me too :((

ᰔᩚ post u-20 match! fem! reader reuniting with isagi having already accepted soccer takes priority in his life right now

ᰔᩚ angst with a happy ending!

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot

💗 happily always after : ̗̀➛ tumblr link

ᰔᩚ ASDSVN i wanna marry isagi :(

ᰔᩚ a misunderstanding regarding a proposal causes you to distance yourself a little

ᰔᩚ hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot

💗💗 home visits : ̗̀➛ tumblr link

ᰔᩚ he's literally so sweet im going to die, isagi marry me pls :((

ᰔᩚ where you visit isagi's parents at his house and seeing some baby photos make you think of the future

ᰔᩚ fluffy fluff fluff, you'll get a tooth ache

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot

💗💗 as close as strangers : ̗̀➛ tumblr link

ᰔᩚ ASNVLS oh to have a meet cute with isagi yoichi :(

ᰔᩚ you go with you sister to a bar to meet her newest boy toy but end up getting rescued by a stranger when you get some unwanted attention

ᰔᩚ fluff fluff isagi yoichi pls marry me

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 1.4k words

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily.

P.S. Thank you so much for completing this series. 'You're Mine' and 'Ours' have been a massive labor of love and so much fun to write. I hope you have enjoyed all 60 chapters! There will be epilogue but until then... The End.

Chapter 30 - 'All Ours' | ‘Ours’ - The Final Part

word count - 14.2 k

Trent was on the carpet in your living room sat in between your legs as you were sitting on the couch behind him. Teddy was on the couch next to you sitting in Marcel’s lap as the four of you watched a NBA game on the TV that night. Maybe the four of you watching is a stretch. Marcell and Trent were watching. Teddy was bothering Marcel with irrelevant and unrelated questions. You were occupied playing with Trent’s hair, scratching at his scalp, occasionally massaging his shoulders. You were just keeping your hands on him. You couldn’t get enough of him lately. You still had yet to tell your families about the pregnancy. You were hiding in sweat sets and t-shirts of Trent’s lately attempting to hide your slightly now more noticeable bump. Trent leaned his cheek against the inside of your thigh as he kissed your knee. 

“Celly, know mama has a baby?” Teddy asked Marcel, looking up at him as she pulled at his shirt begging for more attention. You were just far away enough that you couldn’t clearly make out what they were actually talking about but also you were in such a trance focused on Trent you weren’t really trying to listen in either.

“Yeah, I know. You're Mummy’s baby, Ted.” Marcel cooed, confirming what he assumed she was talking about. He kept his focus on the game though. She scrunched her nose, annoyed he didn’t understand her and that he didn’t actually pay much attention to her.

“No, in her tummy, tay?” She tried to correct him, looking at him with a ‘duh’ type face like how could he not know she was talking about a new baby.

“What?” He whispered to her bringing his face close to hers but flicked his eyes to you and Trent with confusion over her. He was shocked to say the least. 

“A Celly.” Teddy attempted to clarify what she was talking about pulling his attention back to her. His eyes widened. It took him a moment before he was able to compute what she was referring to saying you had ‘a Celly.’ He debated for a moment if Teddy was like just talking nonsense or if she was serious.  Was he supposed to tell you and Trent he knew? What if you were not pregnant and he asked? He didn’t want to offend you. He grappled with the thought for a second.

“Ted, can I tell mummy and daddy what you told me?” Marcel asked her loud enough to draw the attention of Trent. He furrowed his brow but disregarded them and wrote it off as something silly Marcel and Teddy usually talked about. 

“Nooos, it’s secret Celly!” Teddy yelped. Trent shook his head with a smile at her not knowing what she was yelling about. Marcel dragged his finger between his lips and locked it at the corner's edge, signaling to Teddy he’d keep their secret but his mind was racing. He needed to know. A little while later you had gone upstairs and put Teddy to bed after Marcel and Trent said a lengthy goodnight to her filled with her giggles. When you came back down, they had moved to the cinema to play a game of FIFA.  You made your way there to find them but didn’t say anything or even acknowledge them really when you went in. You just cuddled up to Trent and fell asleep on him in the dark room. Trent made sure you were tight to him, laying his hands with his game controller onto your back keeping you so. As they played, sporadically he’d whisper ‘I love yous’ to you and kiss your hair. 

“Bro…” Marcel turned in his seat to look at Trent as they waited for the next game to load and start. Trent raised his eyebrows confused what Marcel’s impatient facial expression was for. “Sooo…” Marcel waved his hand at Trent to signal him to start talking but Trent gave no response. “You and Y/N….” He finally just spelled it out for his brother who was just taking too long for him.. 

“Oh... Fuck. Mate, it’s not obvious right? Were you able to just tell?” Trent babbled out quietly but relatively panicked. He looked down at your body and tried to examine you hidden under the baggy clothes trying to deduce if Marcel had been able to make out your bump visually. “We’re supposed to go to mums tomorrow. You think she’ll be able to tell? We were trying to wait to tell everyone.” Trent’s anxiety over ruining something you were fairly excited about doing washed over him.

“Wait so you are?!?” Marcel yelped out but bit his lips tightly closed after hoping he didn’t wake you with his excited outburst.  

“Yeah. We’ll she is or we are. I’m so happy.” Trent cooed gently, turning his focus to you. He smiled brushing his hand over hair before kissing your temple.

“Damn, that’s amazing. But nah, I couldn’t just tell. I had no idea. I don’t think mum will know either. Your daughter just yaps more than you and she told me.” Marcel smiled simultaneously taking a jab at Trent whilst letting him know that Teddy had spilled the beans. 

“Oh dammit, Ted. I knew she wouldn’t keep it to herself. Evidently, she doesn’t really understand a pinky promise and I guess the concept of secrets either.” Trent laughed, Marcel did along with him. Teddy wasn’t the most tight lipped.  

“Bro, this is sick… I’m so happy for you guys. How is she?” He nodded towards you. He wanted to make sure you were fine. If anyone knew the depth of how bad things had gotten it was Marcel. 

“Yeah, she’s been all good so far. She’ll do amazing. I know that.” Trent smiled again praying that you would be fine this time around. He didn’t know if he could bear an episode like the one that occurred after your pregnancy with Teddy. “Let her tell you about this though bro. I know she wanted to.” He instructed his brother because he knew that you had talked about the way you wanted to announce this to your families, especially Marcel. You wanted everyone to kind of have their own individual announcement, different from your fist pregnancy. In the following days Marcel kept his mouth shut as you began to send out customized newspapers announcing your baby. Each one including a snippet to keep it quiet till everyone knew.  Something along the lines of ‘Call us when you read the news. We can’t wait to meet our baby but until all our family and friends know… shhhh!’

“I’m fucking crying. Are you serious right now?” Winnie was balling over a Facetime after she had received hers. It naturally set you off right away.

“Yeah, going to have a little boy. I don’t know anything about them but I know he’ll be really cute.” You gushed with a giggled, starting to deep that you knew zero about little boys. It probably was a similar feeling that Trent had when you found out about Teddy. Things were going to be generally the same but also wildly different.  

“Baby, he’s just going to be like a little me. I swear interests will be fairly the same. You, food, sleep, footie. Simple boys.” Trent explained to you as he kissed your shoulder. You smiled hoping that was true but also knowing he was vastly oversimplifying things. 

“Do you have a name picked out? Are you keeping ‘TAA’ initials? Wait.. does Teddy know? What does she think?” Winnie rattled questions at you at lightning speed.

“Sheesh, Winn. Slow down please. Teddy does know. I think she’s on board but I don’t think she understands that after he arrives that he’s staying so we’ll see how that goes.” You laughed and Winnie hummed. “Names… Well, I have my opinion and T has his so I don’t know. To a degree I kind of felt like some little nod to dad would be nice.” You kept talking, explaining your current name debacle. You and Trent had talked about this at length. The only thing you had decided though was that you wanted to keep the initials ‘TAA.’ Aside from that, you and Trent just sat around throwing ‘T’ names at each other saying them all day. Trent often saying his suggestions as if it was an announcement at Anfield. 

“And number 6…” He paused his dramatics for a quick caveat. “I don’t want him to take 66 so thinking he can have half of my number.” He clarified to you and you nodded. “Trey Alexander-Arnold.’ Good, no? I kind of like it because he’d be the third ‘TAA’ kind of vibe I think.” He looked at you with a smile fairly proud of his idea. 

“So you’ll just ignore Tyler’s initials…” You cooed gently with a teasing smirk. Trent rolled his eyes wrapping his arm around your neck pulling you into his chest in a headlock. 

“You’re just so funny, huh?” He huffed, kissing your head and then releasing you. “Yes, I know. But this is also my family so he’d be the… You know what fine, scratch Trey. Now I’m not going to be able to think about anything but how salty Tyler would be. Thanks for sending me back to square one, baby.” He muttered with a huff. 

“Aww. I’m sorry, T. It was a cute name though but yeah square one, sorry. I will not listen to that argument for the rest of my life.” You cooed, caressing his cheek with your thumb. Back to square one you went, the list of names fluctuating between lengthening and shortening every couple days as you added some and ruled out others. It was all quite nice for the moment. Everyday was kind of exciting because you’d get a call from a family member or a friend who had received the news. You decided you’d hand deliver your announcement to Dianne, she deserved that. That said, Dianne aside, your only other delivery was to Marcel.

“Oh are you serious…” you whined. “You definitely already knew. I can read you like a fucking book. Who told you!” You yelped with a bit of a laugh leaning over your kitchen island slapping at Marcel. You definitely could read him like a book but it also wasn’t that hard. Lying wasn’t a strong suit in the family across the board but Marcel was particularly bad at it. His contrived reaction to your announcement confirming just that. 

“I’m sorry! Teddy told me in a backwards way and then I asked Trent but he told me you wanted to tell me so here we are. Can I know what you’re having now?” He asked with a cheeky smile that also ran in this family. 

“I still want you to find the gender with Ty. I just wanted to talk to you first. You’re important to me. You really are the best uncle to Teddy.” You began to start the conversation of why you wanted to hand deliver this news specifically to him. 

“And you’ve told Ty this, correct?” He interrupted you and you rolled your eyes subsequently. “I'm kidding, I’m kidding, go on.” He laughed not realizing how serious you were being. 

“You’re Teddy’s Celly and her best friend but in all seriousness how good you are with our kids aside. Even though this is exciting,I just wanted to talk about… me and you. Sometimes you and I get caught in banter and brother-sister type things which is fine, I love it, I just need you to know that I know what T does for me… Obviously, he and I’ve talked but Marce I also know what you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t have survived without your friendship. You are my best friend before you’re my brother, honest. You’re just really important to me and I want to make sure you and I are good because… I love you a lot.” You softly smiled at him hoping your confessional was going to be received well.

“Fuck… wow.” He choked out a little taken aback hearing your voice begin to shake a little. “I love you too. Y/N, I don’t think I ever thought you didn’t know what Trent does for you. You guys have one of the healthiest relationships I know. You value each other, I know that. You’re my best friend as well. I won’t be telling the boys that but yeah, I know.” You shook your head with a little giggle. Naturally, he wasn’t going to get soft on you without a little humor. “We’re fine. Promise. It just feels like I’ve lost him as a brother, sometimes. It’s strange that we went from messing about in L12 and now, I know I see everyone still, but it’s not just… us. Sorry it’s stupid.” You tried not to pout at him. Marcel gave you a little more than you thought he would. You were slightly worried he wouldn’t open up. 

“I’m sorry it feels that way. I can’t really totally wrap my head around his trajectory myself and what that must have felt like at home. I know how you feel though to a degree, having to share him feels wrong because he’s just our Trent and not this global figure to us but as much as we have to accept that’s kind of the way it is, you haven’t lost anyone.” You wanted to comfort him but you knew it was an abnormal situation. You just wanted to make sure he was okay. You really meant it, he was like a little brother.

“Nah, I know that as well. It’s been mad though to have all this happen and then like don’t get me wrong I love Teddy, she's goated, a pain in my ass, but she’s amazing and like I said I love you as well” He smiled prefacing his next statement. “But just on top of footie he’s just got this whole other life that I’m not in.” He puffed out some air, not happy to be admitting to his feelings. You weren’t a younger sibling but you understood and related to how bizarre it was to live in this very abnormal situation less than 1% of the world experienced. 

“Marce… You are very much so a part of this life, our life, and his life. I think you should tell him this kind of stuff because seriously, you and Ty are literally a part of every single day and if you’re not physically here bothering me, you’re in that annoying group chat that doesn’t stop. I totally empathize with this kind of grappling with growing up… I’m not saying you’re not grown, just that I know I really struggle to accept that we’re not what we were or maybe aren’t in the same place anymore, you know in our favorite places but we always find new ones. I found one with you all, no?” You smiled coming around the counter hugging him from the side, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, course. New favorite places.” He mumbled out leaning his head onto yours. “I like our places together.” He muttered. 

“Yeah, me too. Those are the good ones. Your pain in the ass Teddy included.” You giggled, squeezing him once more before letting go. “What do you want to do for lunch before the match?” You asked, jumping back into normalcy.  

“Erm… anything really but Y/N, I am happy you know for you, and for him. I love your family and you being a part of our family, and obviously Ted.” Marcel shuffled in his chair. 

“I know. I know that.” You smiled, turning to grab your phone off the counter. After said match, the group chat lit up as it always did filling with who was coming over to your house. You needed a headcount, they never gave you for food but you always had a general idea, the usual cohort of rowdy boys in your cinema. Teddy gassed with the attention and chaos. 

“Come on, Teddy girl. You don’t want to be with all these icky boys anymore. We’re going to eat.” You cooed, coming to grab Teddy from them. She wasn’t going to eat what they were and she needed to eat her dinner at the kitchen table. You didn’t want to taunt her with whatever they were indulging in. 

“Too many, mama.” She told you, climbing off a couch next to George. He dramatically acted offended. You scooped up Teddy and kissed Trent’s head. 

“One more soon though.” Trent pipped up and you shook your head at his delivery.

“Sorry?” George looked at Trent with a confused look. It was a game of who could put together the dots the fastest. All of the boys in the room had received the newspaper announcements and said their congratulations but not until this moment, had anyone discussed your baby further.

“Shut the fuck up…” Marcel’s jaw slacked. He sat up in his chair. “Oh my days Project TAA, we get fucking project TAA. Bro!” He yelped. Thus the real chaos ensued as all the boys collectively freaked out. You gave a few hugs but you let them all pop off about Trent having a son.

“Do my boobs look bigger?” You asked Trent looking down at your chest before you looked at him. He gave you a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes. You knew he wasn’t exactly complaining but you weren’t asking about his preference for the visuals he was getting in the bedroom, you were asking about how they looked in the top Prada had sent for you to wear to their show in Milan tonight. 

“Your boobs look amazing, baby.” Trent confirmed. They did look good. They were a bit more ‘plump’ than normal. He leaned back on his hands behind him on the mattress with a grin really enjoying how you looked. He licked over his lips.

“I can’t wear this.” You huffed unzipping the tight top. You stood there just in your sheer organza pants and satin high heels now topless. You watched Trent’s eyes light up. Your gaze flashed to his crotch unintentionally but the way he was sitting with his legs spread wide had your mouth watering. Your hormonal flares were getting the better of you. “I’m so horny for you, T.” You whined moving towards him, running your hands over his bare chest. 

“Wow, baby. I forgot this is what you being pregnant was like.” Trent smiled greedily, wrapping his arms around you pulling you to sit on his lap. His face coming close to yours. His lips ghosting over yours. 

“And I’m so sensitive now.” You moaned, pushing your lips into his for a passionate kiss. You moved his hands from your back around you and up your body, over your nipples. 

“Arrgh. We gotta go baby.” He groaned feeling your tits in his hand but trying to not let himself fall into your trap and get lost in you. 

“Come on, T, please.” You begged him. You didn’t need to beg. Trent would fuck you but you actually really did need to leave if you wanted to make it to the show on time and you still needed to put on a top despite Trent’s preference to your current state. 

“You love Prada. Let’s go sweet girl. You know I can’t say no to you so you have to get off of me.” He laughed at himself knowing the longer you stayed put on his lap with minimal clothing on the thinner and thinner his resilience was getting.    

“Fine, fine, but you owe me.” You huffed annoyed that he wouldn’t just take you right then. You were genuinely so horny for him you were praying you’d be able to make it through your night. “I’m just going to wear the sweatshirt.” You got off his lap and stood up looking around the room for the second option for a top for your look. “That still looks chic right?” You asked Trent awkwardly pulling the Prada Oversized cashmere and shearling sweatshirt over your head in an effort to not get any makeup on the cream color. 

“Nah, it looks sick baby. I like it.” Trent cooed standing up with a puff of air trying to collect himself. 

“Are you sure? I could always change.” You deviously smiled, beginning to peel the sweatshirt off again.

“I’m fuming right now that I’m saying this but can you please keep your clothes on f’me.” He gave you a massive smile and a disapproving head shake as he laughed pulling the fabric back down. This was a couple months ago and your horniness for Trent and your larger tits had not changed. Despite the World Cup being some amount of time away you found yourself in a similar situation trying on clothes, asking for his opinions but back home in your bedroom. Trent was in bed, he deemed your late night activity unnecessary but still entertained you. You were digging through your entire wardrobe trying to find just the right top. To no avail, you came out in a defeated huff. Trent smiled seeing you act so childish over something trivial. 

“C’mere baby. You’ll look great regardless. Just come to bed. It’s really not that big of a deal.” He tried to reason with you but it was a big deal… to you. Pulling together looks for a big tournament where you were playing a secondary role was insane but you did it nonetheless because well, you liked dressing up. Doing this insanity while pregnant? Not nearly as fun. 

“Nothing, and I’m actually serious, nothing looks good.” You complained, crawling on your bed towards him. You laid next to him and let him pull your tired body into his. He turned your chin to look up at him and kissed your lips. You hummed returning his kiss. “I’ve missed you.” You whined, pulling away from the kiss momentarily. 

“I’ve missed you more. Promise.”  He pecked your lips again as he tightened his arms around you. You hadn’t actually been apart long enough, only an away game, to warrant any sane person to say they missed one another but you two? You really did. The way his warm body felt against yours felt like heaven. His familiar comforting yet equally sexy scent encased you. His arms felt firm like he’d never let go and you didn’t want him to ever. His breath slowed as he looked deep into your eyes. You felt a shiver run up your spine staring back at him. “Turn around, baby.” He whispered close to you, turning your body in his arms letting your back now press into his chest. He leaned his head down and began kissing behind your ear. Your brain couldn’t really even process anything, you just felt this sense of relief and comfort being held by him in addition to this primal urge to get him to fuck you. You didn’t say anything. You let him work kisses down your neck as you pushed your ass against his hardening cock. “You want me to make you feel good?” He hummed as you let his hands roam over you, peeling your clothes off slowly. He relished in the sight of your now naked body against his. You tried to roll your hips back into him needing more. 

“T, fuck me, please.” You begged him desperately. His lips pulled into a teasing smile against your skin. It wasn’t long before he was sliding his length inside you. His hands all over you.

“You want me to fuck you? Show me how bad you want it then, baby.” He whispered against your neck. He steadied his hips behind you and let you move against him. You pushed further against him, taking more and more of his length inside of you. You were wet enough that his cock slid in without a struggle. Needy as ever you bounced your hips on your own, fucking yourself. “That’s right, baby. Good girl.” He smiled, enjoying your desperation. “Use me however you like to. Go on.” He groaned. 

“Please. T, baby. I need you.” You whined and he caved, giving into your pleas. You tipped your head back and Trent took advantage of the space returning his lips to your neck. He nibbled on your sensitive skin, scraping his teeth against you, marking you in the millionth way that you were his. You felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter as one of Trent’s hands slid to massage your tits cheekily pulling on your nipples. His other hand slid down in front of you coming to play with your clit and began to circle harshly around it. You couldn’t stay quiet as your orgasm got closer and closer. You clenched your pussy tighter around him. He moaned your name, unable to think about anything but you and how good you felt, the pleasure consumed all his thoughts.You shut your eyes as you awkwardly turned your head to kiss his lips. 

“Cum on my cock, baby. Be a good girl and cum f’me.” He sweetly whispered in your ear in contrast to his crass words. The pleasure started to be too much to control. Your pussy clenched tight around him as your body was filled with white hot pleasure. Your warm, wet, and tight walls were becoming too much for Trent to manage. “Can you do that for me, baby? Huh?” His thrusts were mind-numbingly perfect. Your eyes were shut tight but you nodded eagerly for him. Trent held you so tightly, completely flush against him. His pace had become relentless, his hips unforgiving as he moved, driving his cock in and out of you, consistently hitting a spot so deep inside you. Swiftly he was twitching and fucking you full of his cum.

“Fuck T…” you whined feeling his thrusts continue but slow. He emptied himself with slow lazy pumps. He didn't stop though as he came. He kept fucking you at a slower pace though as he watched his release seem from your pussy fucking it back into you untill you came once more for him.

“I love you so much, baby.” He hummed kissing your shoulder. He cuddled up to you keeping his strong arms wrapped around your frame. 

“I love you, T.” You sleepily cuddled back into him. He kissed the back of your head and pulled you closer into him.  You fell asleep just like that in the most loving embrace possible.

There was a World Cup friendly ahead of this summer’s tournament. In an unexpected turn of events the once very exciting information that the World Cup was going to be held in the United States was now one of inconvenience. By the end of the tournament you’d be a month or so out from your due date and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to fly risking the possibility of attending a potential final, should England make it that far in the tournament. You needed to have your baby in England. You could’ve tried to make arrangements to work around staying in New York for the birth but it didn’t make sense, at least not to you.

“I’m not even listening to them.” Lauren laughed keeping her eyes fixed on Trent and Jude filming a relaxed interview together for the England Youtube page. “Just want to sit on his lap, you know?” She cooed to you with a devious smirk, eyes staying put. 

“Laurennn…” You reprimanded her even though you knew Teddy wouldn’t have picked up on her innuendo. “Can you see dada, hmm?” You squeezed Teddy to you as she sat in your lap. You were sitting crossed legged on a turf pitch with your cheek pressed to the side of hers.  It was fairly hot and not an easy position for you to get in and out of but it’s where you currently were. Teddy nodded following your finger pointing to a monitor relaying the video of them as it was being filmed. “Fine, they look good to be fair.” You quipped to Lauren with a smug smile agreeing with her sentiment of wanting to sit on your respective man's laps as you watched Trent adjust in his seat raising his hips upwards. 

“What dada talking bout?” Teddy turned and asked you before letting her head fall back onto your chest lazily.  

“Footie.” You told her. Frankly, you hadn’t really been listening but you assumed that’s what they were on about.  She gave you a sort of blank ‘oh…’ in response that made you smile. “ What? You’re not interested in footie?” You asked her just interested in what was going on in her little brain before Trent and Jude broke out into a big laugh about god knows what. You couldn’t really hear their conversation because of their distance from you but the sound carried. They were yapping and laughing away as usual regardless. 

“Want to laugh with dada and Judey too, mama.” Teddy complained hearing and seeing their laughter. She was jealous. They looked like they were having so much fun and yet they weren’t including her. The ultimate offense. Your eyes were fixed on the monitor but Teddy was trying to see how far away she really was from where they were sitting to see if she could get there. 

“When they’re done, okays?” You cooed gently with a kiss to her hair. You gave her a cuddle and she sighed dramatically letting her body limply fall sideways on to Lauren’s lap as well. She was definitely inheriting some of Trent’s dramatics. 

“What? You’re just too cool to be with us now? You’re not having fun so you want to go be with the boys instead?” Lauren teased tickling Teddy’s tummy eliciting a giggly squirm before she pulled her entirely into her lap. “Wait, Ted. No, no, no!” Lauren hushly but sternly tried to call out as Teddy broke away from her in childish defiance running towards Jude and Trent. She even had the cheek to turn her head back to look at Lauren with a conniving smile as she did it. It was a jarringly similar grin to Trent’s that made you shake your head. 

“Think we’ve got an intruder, lads.” Jude announced, watching Teddy clumsily step over wires and cords around where they were filming. Lauren stood up and attempted to chase after her but the crew had welcomed her in before she could nab her. Jude laughed seeing Lauren’s face grappling between slight panic and a sly grin thinking this was a little funny. You were stuck as is because no shot you were going to be able to stand up on your own from your seat on the grass in time and you certainly weren’t going to run. 

“Oh, sorry.” Trent smiled, turning to see his little girl. “Are we able to cut for a second? This isn’t live, right?” Trent asked, really trying to remember if they said this was going to be streamed or something. They told him he was fine so he stuck out his arms to reach out for Teddy who was currently trying her best to navigate as carefully as she could through the cameras. “Sorry.” Trent apologized once more before grunting, picking up Teddy and lifting her over some equipment. “C’mere Ted. What are you doing, silly girl?” He asked her. She just shrugged with a giggle. 

“Did you get bored with mummy and Lauren? We do too.” Jude asked her teasingly with a wink to you and Lauren who was now just opting to sit back down. You couldn’t hear his question but you heard your respective names and rolled your eyes in sync. 

“Want to play a game with us?” Josh, the host of their interview, asked Teddy. Her eyes lit at the question. A game with daddy and Judey, absolutely… well and also with this stranger. Josh looked to Trent for his approval to include Teddy in a small game but very quickly he then turned to you for your opinion. You didn’t really know the context so you implied it’d be up to his discretion. “Come here sweetheart. Want to play a game with Jude and your daddy?” Teddy shyly hid behind Trent’s legs. 

“You’re okay, baby. Want to play or no, hmm?” Trent cooed, pulling one of Teddy’s curls straight and then letting it bounce back. She sheepishly nodded. He nodded his head towards Josh for her to go over. Teddy looked back towards you and you smiled and waved reassuring her despite not having really any idea what was happening. “Go on, yeah? We’ll have fun!” Trent reassured her. You knew she was fine as long as Trent was with her. Josh explained a game the crew made up on the spot. The boys would each have a guess and write what they thought the answer Teddy would give to a question on a white board. 

“Alright, so we’ve got Teddy Alexander-Arnold with us for our next little segment. Mum’s given us a go ahead?” Josh spoke to the camera and looked to Trent for confirmation. He nodded as Josh rattled on a further explanation of the instructions before they began.  “What do daddy and Jude do for work?” Josh asked, looking down at Teddy who had plopped herself onto the turf picking at it with her hands. She tilted her head up to give her answer when he gave her the go ahead. 

“Play.” Teddy responded nonchalantly and fairly disinterested before flicking her gaze back to the grass. Josh laughed a little at her answer. Trent wasn’t phased by her attention. He turned his board around to show the correct answer with a smug smile. 

“Nah, not having that.” Jude snapped annoyed. He leaned closer to Teddy. “Ted, but what do we play? You’re not saying footie? Also, I don’t know why I’m slightly offended by your answer.” Jude started to laugh at Teddy's belittlement of their careers teasing her reaching over to poke at her pudgy tummy.

“Yeah huh, Judey. Play footie with my daddy.” Teddy clarified with a giggle wiggling away from him. Jude had written ‘Footie’ on his board. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Can’t be trying to coerce her into an answer. She said ‘play’ not ‘footie’ you lost the point. Me and my baby bear just vibe different, mate.” Trent quipped back. Josh laughed a little at the back and forth. Trent leaned off his seat and kissed Teddy’s hair.  

“Alright, alright. One nil to Trent. Another question for you, sweetheart. What team do you think will win the World Cup?” Josh asked the next question and gave the boys a minute to write their answers. 

“Libpool.” Teddy answered with a bit more of a yelp and giggle, very certain and proud of her answer. Both boys turned their boards around begrudgingly with incorrect answers throwing their heads with a groan. Teddy looked at Trent confused and a little disheartened with their reaction.     

“Baby… Yeah, that’s a good answer but what team do Jude and I play together on. Where do we live?” Trent tried to clarify for her. As much as Trent was amazing if not perfect with Teddy he could never quite drop his competitiveness, he wanted to win. 

“Libpool, dada.” Teddy doubled down. Trent ran his hands over his face. Josh laughed. 

“Teddy girl.” Jude shook his head with a goofy smile. “I don’t play in Liverpool. You know I don’t live near you. We have to talk on the phone usually, don’t we?” He gently explained trying to direct her to the correct answer.

“This isn’t really fair though is it though because her answer is wrong.” Trent quipped trying to rationalize why the game wasn’t going to work. Teddy tried to complain, not really appreciating the fact that Trent was talking about her like she wasn’t there. 

“Mate, the game is guessing her answer though.” Jude snapped, interrupting Teddy. She stood up and grabbed his arm. 

“Judey! Listen!” All three boys laughed seeing Teddy come out of her shell a little more as she got more comfortable. “Live in England, tay? My mama not from there though but dada said can’t laugh at her.” Teddy segued into the unrelated topic about you. It was a discussion that came up recently with her of why you sounded different. You american accented words versus Trent’s made her laugh. 

“Right, we won’t make fun of mummy, alright?” Jude told Teddy and she nodded. “But you’re English still and that’s who you’re supposed to say is going to win, Teddy girl.” He explained to her as she pulled herself up to sit in Jude’s lap.They carried on with more questions and banter. It was a little while later on when she started to get tired. She wasn’t even involved in the video at this point. She just was chilling. You were gossiping away to Lauren who wasn’t really listening as much as she was just watching Jude be sweet with your little girl. Teddy started to get worked up in Jude’s arms though beginning to progressively get more fussy as she got more tired. 

“Uh oh! Want to just go be with daddy?” Jude cooed gently as Teddy began to start crying. She nodded sadly with a hushed ‘pleabs.” He kissed her before passing her to Trent’s outstretched arms. 

“Not having that?” Josh asked Jude with some cheek as Teddy continued to cry. 

“Nah, that’s why I love Ted. I just hand her off when she gets upset.” Jude laughed as Trent rolled her eyes as he whispered asking Teddy what was wrong. ”To be fair, she’s so chill more often than not. My only beef is that she won’t wear my Madrid jersey but I think that’s more of an issue I’m taking up with him.” Jude laughed with a smirk.

“Aw, baby C’mon. Going to be okay. Let’s go sit with mama, okay?” Trent cooed, kissing Teddy holding her as she cried ‘mama’ on repeat. “Can I just pop over to my wife quick?” Trent asked in the general direction of the men behind the cameras as he was already standing up. He knew that no one wanted to hear Teddy wailing before even asking. The director nodded. 

“Oh, is mummy asleep on daddy.”  Lauren giggled, bouncing Teddy on her hip walking back into your living room holding a glass of wine in her other hand noticing you. You’d passed out laying on Trent. She had come to stay for a little to spend some time with you and to help out with the nursery you desperately needed to finish.

“Uh huh… my mama lub my dada so um they um have baby.” Teddy explained squirming in her arms to put her down. Lauren bent over and placed her on the carpet. Teddy immediately took off running to the couch jumping on Marcel who had come over. 

“Yeah mummy has a baby. You must be sleepy like mummy though, no?” Lauren cooed carefully sitting herself on the white couch keeping her glass of wine steady. 

“Nos.” She giggled despite it actually getting close to her bedtime.

“I think you are…” Lauren cooed, pulling on one of her legs hanging over Marel’s lap. “Have to set a good example for your baby brother. Don’t want him to be like Celly do you?” Lauren teased.  

“The stray was so unnecessary.” Marcel quipped with an eye roll.   

“I like Celly, Lauwen. No bruber though. No tanks al zander arnol girls only.” Teddy explained through stumbling words, sitting upright hugging Marcel. 

“Yeah, you’ll still be Alexander-Arnold girls. Why don't you want a baby brother though? If you had a sister you'd have to share all your cute clothes like mummy has to with Winnie.” Lauren laughed.  

“Shares a generous word.” You slowly and groggily spoke coming out of sleep.

“Mummyyy!” Teddy squealed hearing you, crawling off Marcel towards you and Trent on the couch. 

“Hi baby. You’re so cute and so loud.” You laughed watching her make her way to you. “Come here, yeah?” You cooed bringing her into you and Trent.  

The following weeks were a bit hectic with the World Cup fast approaching. Trent was so busy and you just the same so it was fairly common that someone from your family helped out with Teddy. Frankly, you really needed to accept the fact that you might need a babysitter eventually because this was getting even more overwhelming as your due date came closer as well. Marcel had just begun dating this girl Gracie. Maybe ‘begun’ wouldn’t be the word considering you met her years ago and they had a whole situationship before this current relationship. She was sweet and you liked her. Cute, fairly meek, not in a negative way but she definitely was trying to “fit in” with your family so she wasn’t the most outspoken at the moment. It was a lot for you to walk into but for her it was a little different and slightly more strange. She’d actually known the Alexander-Arnold family longer than you did but since Trent was so successful and famous now it was almost an entirely new environment. That said, she definitely just wanted to be liked by all the people that felt like permanent stays like you… and Teddy. 

“Excuse me, my Celly.” Teddy reprimanded Gracie, moving her hand off of Marcel. She was attempting to make it clear that Marcel was hers as you all sat at a restaurant for lunch on a random day. Having someone with you and Teddy all day made such a difference so you took the liberties of going out for something fun and leisurely when you did.

“Okay, I’m sorry sweetheart.” Gracie gently apologized, running her hand over her hair. Teddy didn’t concede though. She just kept her unimpressed glare on her. Marcel laughed a little at Teddy’s upset and Gracie’s kindness. 

“This is my Celly. Tay?” Teddy yelled. Your eyes widened. You knew she was possessive of Trent and you but this was really the first outburst about someone else. It wasn’t all that surprising though that the someone else was Marcel though. 

“Teddy girl…” You cautioned her. That's really all it took. It was a tone she knew well. “Can we be polite please? That’s not very nice.” You asked her. You mouthed a ‘sorry’ to Gracie. You wanted to really tell her that jealousy was not the way to get a man. She frowned at you and then her face pulled into offense as she watched the biggest betrayal, Marcel wrapping his arm around Gracie.

“It’s okay, really.” Gracie assured you brushing off Teddy’s sass. You smiled and so did she.  “We can share him, yeah?” She gave a toothy smile to Teddy before pecking Marcel’s cheek. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back  

“Nooooo mine!” She yelled and you immediately looked at her with wide eyes and a shake of the head. You were fast approaching the delightful stage of toddler tantrums. Teddy was really well behaved but sometimes she just didn’t know any better way to communicate her feelings. She sat in her chair as her eyes welled with tears, upset with Marcel and Gracie and now upset she had done something wrong. 

“Oh my little teddy bear.” Marcel pouted at her. “Come here. You’re still my best friend, hmm?” He leaned over and tried to pick her up but her tears began to fall as she rejected him. 

“You’re okay, baby. Celly loves you, promise. Come sit with me. I got you.” You grabbed her out of her seat knowing she wouldn’t say no to you. She wrapped herself around your neck and sniffled. “You didn’t eat any of your chips, my cute girl. You love them. Want to eat some with mummy?” You cooed and she shook her head ‘no’ but she contradicted herself when she eventually turned back to the table to grab one of your plate. 

“I have?” Teddy asked Gracie sheepishly, reaching a chip towards her plate close to yours that had a bit of ketchup on it. 

“Of course, Teddy. I'll share with you” Gracie smiled and pushed her plate and thus the ketchup a little closer to her. She shoved her chip into the ketchup and then into her mouth with a greedy smile and a hum. You and Marcel exchanged eye rolls at her. She was very cute and always managed to get her way. 

“I’m fucking worried 25 hours a day.” You cried over the phone. You couldn’t even Facetime. You couldn’t bear to look at Trent right now. The World Cup did not end how you would’ve wanted it to but nevertheless Trent and Jude and a few other England teammates had stayed out in California for some time off. You had flown back immediately after the team was knocked out. You were so close to your due date you didn’t want to leave anything to chance, have any complications or be told you couldn't fly home after their departure in the Semifinals so you and Teddy were back home alone sans Trent.

“Baby… come on.” Trent groaned tired from his night out. “Just don’t deep it please.” It was like he forgot who he was talking to. Like the difference in your time zones wasn’t the only thing disconnecting you two. Trent rolled in the massive bed he was staying in really wishing you were in right now. He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, disgruntled, not even sure how he had just got home. He was very drunk. It was maybe three or almost four am for Trent and late morning for you back home. It wasn’t how you anticipated your day starting and suddenly you felt the tides of your afternoon changing. 

“I mean who was there? Are there photos? Like why are you telling me this?” You rattled quickly in a panic after Trent had sort of unintentionally but intentionally filled you in on his night. They had gone to a club. Not your favorite thing in the world but you knew he was going out. What you were unaware of was that they were joined by… let’s just say a man who was a “promoter”  out in LA but that title really didn’t encapsulate what he did for a living. You knew nightlife. You knew it well in fact and you knew of this man and you knew that the England players request to blow off steam wasn’t just coming with bottles it was coming with bottle girls. 

“I don’t knowww. I just don’t want you to be caught out if someone says something shitty on twitter, alright beautiful?” Trent whined, throwing his head back into a pillow. You could hear other people in the house with him. He clearly was alone in his room or if someone was there they were dead quiet but you knew there were other people there.

“Well, why would they have something to say? What was happening?” You asked, feeling a bit nauseous and you weren’t sure if it was a symptom of your pregnancy or the vagueness of Trent’s borderline black out drunk phone call. 

“Nah, nothing baby. Wish you were here with me, you know.” He segued into another conversation entirely. You didn’t know if he intended to do this or if he was just drunk enough to not remember what he was talking about. He poorly attempted to convince you to have phone sex with him. You usually wouldn’t be opposed but like this? No. He was wasted, it was almost the afternoon for you, there was this weird tension and secrecy about what his night actually consisted of was putting you off. 

“Okay, can you just go to sleep for me, T and get some water before, please.” You tried to calm yourself down just thinking more about his well being and the pain in the ass he'd be when he’d inevitably call you complaining he didn’t feel well wanting you to baby him when he woke up after this. You tried to say goodnight but you definitely didn’t miss the female voices echoing in the house and one in particular calling his name. He knew. He knew you heard it as well. He was too drunk to process how to handle this appropriately. Another woman's voice calling his name close to four in the morning wasn’t a great look for him and it wasn’t a great feeling for you. For some reason it really bothered you that it was an American accent. He couldn’t think quickly enough to act or say anything before you had hung up. You must’ve hit decline 50 times after that. His vision blurred. Trent didn’t leave his room that night, he slept alone.  

“You know why I’m here.” Tyler gently spoke to you standing at your front door. You had waited for this all day after you’d seen the predicted photos emerge on football gossip sites alike. You didn’t want to see them but people would just DM them to you unprovoked. It was so invasive and so… sad. You did not want to see the thread putting together that the interior of the house from this LA model’s Instagram story was the same one in the photo Jude had shared. You didn’t want to see the screenshot of another stranger's story they posted unintentionally capturing a woman standing in between Trent’s legs at the club and you most certainly did not want to see the photo where you could not make out where his hands had disappeared to.

“Yeah, sure. On cue, no?” You snapped a little unfairly at Tyler as you let him inside. You rolled your eyes not really even greeting him. You knew Trent had sent Tyler over that night. You didn’t know what time it was on the west coast, you could’ve looked but you were ignoring Trent. You were raging. 

“You know it’s just misinformation nothing happened.” Tyler tried to reassure you that the photos were just nonsense but frankly this had happened one too many times. It wasn’t like you really had the image that Trent could actually go through with having sex with someone else but you just didn’t like that he was even entertaining another woman. It made you sick because you’d imagine he’d be comparing her to you.  

“No, I’m tired of ‘nothing happened,’ ‘it’s just a photo,’ ‘it looks worse than it was.’ It isn’t always about international footballer Trent Alexander Arnold’s image… Do you know what a fucking mug I look like? Sitting at home with his daughter and pregnant with his son? Why is he even entertaining it… why is he there to begin with?” You really lost it. You couldn’t hold it together anymore. Tears started to fill your lash line but you wiped them away with a tired gruff. You knew this was your brother in law but this was also Tyler’s job. 

“Y/N…” Tyler cautioned you trying to not let you get too worked up but the ball was already rolling. You couldn’t stop the crying. 

“No, I’m fucking sick of this. I can’t handle this” You sobbed. You gripped the kitchen counter top before just slamming your phone onto it and leaving the room. Tyler sighed letting you go, he knew you deserved to be mad. He wasn’t going to fight you on it but he was concerned by what you meant by your ability to ‘handle’ this. The thing that really sucked about being mad at Trent in these situations was that you would never keep him from Teddy. It was a little annoying that there had been multiple of these as well but you weren’t going to let his indiscretions or your anger towards him take away from her relationship with him. That said… you didn’t want to be there so you made Tyler call him with her before she went to bed.  

“Baby, where’s mummy?” Trent asked Teddy as he Facetimed Tyler who held her sitting on a stool at your kitchen island.  

“Um.. mama’s sad, dada. Sad in beddy, thinks.” Teddy babbled unknowingly, kind of spilling the fact that you’d really been upset over this. He knew that but knowing Teddy was conscious of it broke his heart all the more. Tyler’s eyes widened not realizing Teddy had even picked up on that.  “Why mama sad?” Teddy asked innocently.

“Mummy is tired.” Trent sighed. “Can you give her a big kiss from me?” Trent cooed kind of wishing he could just give you one himself.  

“Mate, you gotta get home now. This one was out of order.”  Tyler put Teddy down and readjusted in his seat. “She’s tired of your shit.” He quipped at Trent. 

“Ty, I didn’t do anything!” Trent yelped defending his innocence. 

“Bro, I’m not questioning that but they’re dragging her online, they’re dragging you. It’s a mess and you need to take care of your wife and your daughter. I’m worried about Y/N.” Tyler replied in a serious tone. “You lost and it was a shitty way to go out of the tournament but this was dumb. Get your ass home. You’re not 19 bro.” Tyler really drove home his point that Trent needed to leave asap. Tyler always had a delivery that made Trent shutter. He would never not make Trent feel young and naive. 

“Please come here, okay?” Trent trailed behind you in your bedroom when he returned to England days before he had anticipated. He listened to Tyler and left that night, returning the next morning for home. 

“T… I’m upset. Let me be upset. You can’t just make me change my mind to make you feel better.” You snapped turning around to look at him frustratingly. The only words you’d heard for the past couple hours were ‘I’m sorry’ and you weren’t all that convinced by them. 

“It’s not about me. It’s about our relationship. I’m sorry.” Trent frowned at you. He genuinely was apologetic, you knew that but it was almost agitating you more because he knew he had put himself in a stupid situation knowingly. It also was agitating you that you felt like you wanted to disappear realizing you were about to have a new born baby and embark on another fresh hell of your postpartum body again. You didn’t want to think about him with other women ever and certainly not right now given how you felt you looked.

“It is about you because who looks bad? I do and you're unphased. I’m upset Trent. It’s fine, okay? I let you do what you need to do. I get it you’re a ‘baller’ or whatever and you guys all love showing this sort of lifestyle.” Trent wanted to interrupt you and correct you. That wasn’t true. Trent didn’t really push that narrative but it just backed your point up a little better if he had. “But you know where I am… you know that I am carrying your fucking baby right now and your calling me what? While some girl is in the fucking house? Why is someone calling your name at 3:56 am? Tell me.” You tore into him remembering the exact time you’d hung up on him. “Why is there another American girl calling your name? Tell me about your night with her… Did you call me after… Did you call me because you felt guilty?” You started crying, gasping for breaths unable to control it.   

“That’s not fair. You know that’s not true or what happened here.” Trent pleaded for some sort of mercy but he knew he fucked up. You hadn't necessarily accused him of cheating, it was sort of hinted at but that wasn’t the point. You were upset about how shitty seeing his hands near another woman was making you feel about yourself.

“Fair! You want to talk about fair!?” You yelled between sobs. You stuck your hand out to distance him from coming any closer to you when he tried.

“Y/N… I’m sorry. God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I was just trying to be chilled and relax with the boys. I didn’t want to make a big deal because I was getting chirped for being such a dad.” He woefully tried to explain, unknowingly digging his hole a bit deeper.  

“Hey, hmm maybe because you are a dad.” You sarcastically rolled your eyes. “But you’re right… teammates over us always. Got it. Made that one proper clear.” You continue to sort of take digs at him for things that maybe weren’t the most accurate, and definitely a little too harsh  maybe. You didn’t feel that way but your insecurity about the photos and that familiar valley girl accent was haunting you. 

‘Hey, baby… the attitude isn’t necessary. I'm trying to apologize.” He looked at you both with a stern face not appreciating the jab knowing you two had to get through this but also absolutely terrified he’d upset you like this. 

“Well you shouldn’t have to apologize, you shouldn’t be doing this shit. You’re married, you are a father of two babies by the way. So, tell me about her? What’s her name?” You snapped as your emotions continued to run high. 

“I know! I know! And I fucked up. I don’t remember anyone they invited names, baby. Honest.” Trent once again took a misstep. Honestly, he was never great in arguments. You were. Your tactics weren’t the most fair but they were poignant.

“Oh, that’s brilliant you did all this for women you can’t even remember their names. Be honest and don’t fucking lie to me… did you touch her?” You made yourself feel sick asking him as you reimagined the blurred images. 

“Baby…” He didn’t want to talk about this. Tyler was right Trent was not 19 and this was not some silly cheating scandal. Trent probably shouldn’t have been in that position but he would never cheat on you. You knew that and he knew that you did. It had nothing to do with him, it was more about the ‘woman.’ You were playing that angle though because it was easier to rationalize but both you and Trent knew that this anger and this conversation was stemming from your insecurities. 

“Did they touch you?” You pushed for him to answer you. “Tell me. Did you get tired of the fact that while I carry your child for 9 months I don’t look like some Insta baddie worthy of a post World Cup party?” It was a big unfair blow. Trent felt like you punched him in the stomach. He shut his eyes, swallowing his need to defend himself and his pride. 

“No, absolutely not…” He whispered, throwing his head trying to refrain. 

“Did you touch her?” You asked him and he paused for a bit longer than you would’ve liked. “Oh my god… fuck you. Honestly.” You cried falling into more sobs as you sat on your bed dropping your head into your hands.

“Y/N, let me at least fucking answer. No… Fine, a woman tried and I told her to get away from me. That's what the photo is. I was moving her off me, alright?” He explained.  It should’ve made you feel better but it didn’t. It wasn’t enough to shake the idea that your body currently couldn’t compete with some LA model’s.

“Why T… Why would you? Fuck… Am I not enough, you needed to seek out more? You want me to be this confident strong woman for Teddy and it’s things like this that just rip me apart. My husband, her father had other women practically in his lap… and I’m… I’m just. I can’t manage it.” You’d gotten to a place where you would always remember the pain and trouble you endured mentally from your damaged self image.You could forgive yourself, but you’d never forget all the insecurity and hatred and right now Trent’s night in LA had you remembering every piece of your past. You’d healed a lot. It was one of those situations where you had a hard time accepting your own treatment of yourself and the only person you could fault was yourself. Trent said no. It wasn’t even a competition for Trent. He’d pick you everytime but you were taking this out on him.

“You… you are more than enough. I never want anything but you. I'm so sorry I made a mistake even going but I definitely didn’t make a mistake getting myself out of there. I called you in my room, alone because I missed you, baby. It was a lapse in judgment. I’m a fucking idiot putting the most important thing in my life at risk for my ego to be cool for them.” He cooed sitting down next to you. You caught yourself sat on the bed now beside him in the mirror. It was the perfect storm. Emotions high, Trent’s error, pregnancy kicking your ass. You didn’t recognize yourself. You saw a woman who was overweight you’d never met. The problem was that you were underweight and no one could convince you otherwise. It was obsession and all you could think about as Trent yapped a heartfelt apology was that her arms, that women standing in between your husbands legs was that her arms looked thinner than yours, her collarbones raised a bit more. You weren’t sure if you really were upset about their positioning or her presenting the idea of a more attractive option to Trent. 

“T… I worry every time you leave. I really do trust you… I do but it’s like sickening sometimes knowing the temptation that is literally thrown in your lap.” You had been on a relentless and unattainable pursuit of visual perfection and that fear and distortion you hid in and it came storming back. 

“There is no temptation. There is no one that is you. No one could ever be you. Nothing could fill the void you’d leave behind if I didn’t have you. You are my world. I would crumble without you.” He began to cry.  “I’m so sorry.” He leaned his head on your shoulder attempting to take a deep breath. Trent hated arguments. He hated confrontation, and he hated that sometimes he felt like he couldn’t win against your disordered way of thinking. 

“It’s fine, T…” you whispered consoling him, cupping his cheek. You’d made progress with your health but it definitely felt like you’d revert back to old ways of thinking the second some sort of comparison was thrown at you and that’s exactly what this was. 

“It’s not, baby. I love you. God, I fucking love you.” Trent whimpered trying to reel in his own emotions. He kissed your shoulder and it made you take a deep breath. 

“I love you.” you whispered again. The words were tiny and fragile. Trent pouted seeing your tear stained face. His pout turned into a soft frown when he looked up at you. You both sat there in and out of tears. Trent was a light that gave you a strength you weren’t sure you even wanted to have sometimes. He gave you a happiness that you weren’t sure was even humanly possible and you hated that you questioned your worth despite not only the love he gave you but the belief and support. “Please, don’t stop loving me.” You barely were able to mutter out. Trent let out a defeated breath and pulled you into a hug. “I don’t think I can do it without you. Sometimes I think that this unconditional love I have for you makes me feel more insecure because I just want you to be happy and if that’s what someone else does for you. I’d let it happen” You shamefully admitted.

“Stop, baby. Never could someone make me as happy as you. I need to be better but.. You also have to be better for me. It kills me when you think like this.” Trent sighed. “I need you to know that that’s insane. I’d be insane to want anything else but you. I’m so sorry, baby. I never want to lose you.”  You could tell he was about to rant. 

“Please just shhh, baby. I don’t need an apology from you right now. I just need you.” You explained calmly and honestly just needing your husband, your Trent to hold you and so he did. You stayed quiet for a long time after that, moving to lay on your bed. 

“T… Is it okay if we don’t have sex tonight?” You sheepishly asked. You weren’t sure why you were asking. He never pressured you. You just weren’t sure you’d be able to stomach it still kind of fixated on your own insecurities. 

“What? Yeah, course. You haven’t been doing it lately because of me right? You’ve done it because you wanted to, yeah? Baby, whatever you want, I’ll do.” Trent cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“No no, I’ve been fine. I just… I just want to be with my best friend tonight. I’m just a little tired and still a little sad.” You told him, hiding your face in the nape of his neck.  

“I’m right here, baby. Never ever leaving you. Won’t ever leave. I never want to hurt you and I’m sorry I did. I love you so much.” Trent cooed, pulling you into a tight embrace. He rested his chin on top of your head. 

“You can’t imagine how much I love you.” You spoke. Your voice muffled by your proximity to his skin.  

“I think I can…” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your hair. You were quiet for a moment before he pulled your face off him and held your face in his hands. “Baby?”  He cooed. You sympathetically smiled at him, still a little sad. “I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself for Teddy. If she’s anything like you when she’s older she’ll be perfect to me. Even now, when I see glimpses of you in her. It’s everything to me. That’s all I want and when I think about our little boy and Teddy the most important thing is that they know how much I love you. I just want them to not just hear me say it or see it, I want them to be able to see and feel how much I love their mum, how much I respect you and believe in you, how beautiful you are, how amazing you are and I want them to know that. We are so so lucky to have you, baby.”  You smiled and a few tears escaped. He wiped them off your smooth skin. “Tell me something.” He sat up. “Can you do me a favor?” He smiled back at you. Your brow furrowed a little surprised given the circumstances. You were about to be having a month full of gifts and you were sure about that. Post fight? Yeah. Before leaving for preseason? Surely. Push presents? Definitely. You doing something for him? Questionable. “Tell me what you think I love about you.” You shook your head in defiance. “Yeah, go on.” He nodded at you.  

“T, I don’t know!” You whined with a pout not wanting to do this. 

“Well, what do I tell you I like.” He smiled, leaning over kissing your shoulder.  

“I don’t know… my ass.” You sheepishly threw out one. He hummed and nodded for you to continue. “This is stupid.” You muttered but he gestured for you to keep talking. “My tits.” He nodded with confirmation. “My lips.” He hummed again with assurance. “My toes.” You laughed and he laughed with you knowing he recently commented that he liked your white pedicure. You were grasping at straws for ideas.  It wasn’t that Trent didn’t tell you things he liked, in fact just the opposite. 

“You’re sort of right. But baby, you could literally name any part.  I love every fucking inch of you inside and out. Your missing volumes of things I love about you. You know me, I don’t fucking like to lose and I’m not loosing this. I’m going to get you to love you the way I love you.” He wiped his thumb over your lips with a glint in his eyes. “I wish you could just see the way we see you. Be brave for me right now. Tell me what you thought when I was in LA. Like mouth off, baby. You need to learn to back yourself. Give me a ‘you’re a fucking idiot because I’m sexy.’” He gave you a cheeky smile knowing this was something you wouldn’t want to do but hoping you’d do it for him. You thought for a moment and smiled. 

“You couldn’t have created a prettier baby with anyone else.” You smiled back at him. He squinted at you. It was a little bit of a passive one. You really we’re complementing both Teddy and him in the process. 

“I’ll take it butt I was looking for more of a ‘I’m the lengest girl you’ve ever seen, you’re lucky I gave you a chance.’” He laughed and you rolled your eyes. “I want to hear one of these everyday. Remind me and yourself everyday that you’re it baby.” He kissed you a few times. 

“Thank you for loving all of my imperfections.” You smiled into the kiss. 

“They are not imperfections, they are what makes you everything you are and everything I’m madly in love with.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight into him. He swayed you back and forth with a hum and a few kisses. “The fact that I get to just be in your presence. Get to experience you in my life and be a part of yours, it’s the biggest blessing. I have never seen a more beautiful person inside and out, baby. Please don’t ever forget that. You’re incredible.” He kissed you a couple more times. You muttered out a ‘thank you.’ “Do you believe me?” He brushed his nose against yours. 

“I think I am starting to. I like… life with you. Our life. I feel like I used to dread the lulls and now it’s like there could never be enough time in this life with you or my babies. I just crave more of it all. You made me like to live” You giggled a little. “Sorry, I know that sounds dramatic.” You shyly smiled.  

“Good.” He kissed once more, sealing how much he loved you. Things would always be hard but progress was being made slowly and you think that’s what made you so upset. It felt like you took a few steps backwards when Trent went to LA but as he held you, you knew things were better than they’d actually ever been. You believed what he was telling you. 

“Want to go see mama and dada, Celly.” Teddy huffed, kicking her dangling legs back and forth off a chair in a hospital waiting room. You had gone into labor hours ago. Teddy wasn’t even there the whole time but she was getting restless. 

“Nah, you don’t. You want to hang with me, yeah?” Marcel laughed, pulling her towards her. She wiggled out of his hold. 

“Nosss humph.” Teddy huffed again, folding her arms over her chest. She was still holding on to some serious resentment towards him because of his relationship with Gracie.

“What’s with the attitude?” Marcel laughed a little more. He shouldn’t but he almost fueled her behavior because he thought it was funny the way she huffed about but still managed to remain really cute. 

“My Celly only, tays?”  She repeated her statement that had been on a loop lately to him. She wanted him to understand that Gracie had to go in her mind. That wasn’t really an option nor her decision but she’d try. 

“Sweetheart, come on! You're always going to be my best friend, I promise.” Marcel reassured her, picking her up and placing her on his lap. She smiled greedily and giggled happy with his confirmation. “Alright, so we’re good now?” He asked her and she nodded content that she was now sitting with him. “Good. I have some questions for you. How small do you think he’ll be?” He asked her just to keep her busy for god knows how much longer. 

“Small.” Teddy simply confirmed. He hummed, agreeing.  

“What do you think his name will be?” He asked her another question, one of many he was starting to think of.  

“Tom.” Teddy answered again very matter of fact. She said it as if she knew that was 100% correct. 100% going to be your son’s name but Marcel knew that wasn’t going to be the case. He was pretty sure he knew the names you’d narrowed it down to and ‘Tom wasn’t on that list. 

“Tom? Why?” He laughed a little at her. “You know what? Okay. My nephew Tom Alexander-Arnold. Got it.” He smiled as she nodded, verifying.   

“Did so well sweetie. I’m so proud of you.” Dianne cooed, giving you a gentle hug. You smiled at her with tear filled eyes. She and your mum were the first to come into the private room to meet your son. Early that evening you and Trent welcome your baby boy Theo James Alexander-Arnold into the world. He was perfect and there were no disagreements with that fact. Thankfully this time around both of your families were here and on time for the delivery, Trent included. 

“Let’s see him then.” Tyler came into the room shortly after to meet little Theo. You offered if he wanted to hold him but really you were having trouble even being a foot apart from him. “Ready to play in the prem, mate?” Tyler smiled running the back of his finger over his chubby cheek. This was already a running joke before you even had Teddy that there was this predetermined destiny for a child of Trent’s to play football but it really kicked off once all the boys in your life found out you were having a son. It was all in good fun of course but at the moment you were really emotional. You pouted at Trent sadly. He took Theo back from Tyler but not before giving him a reassuring nod that he was sure that that was going to happen. He kissed Theo and placed him in your arms softly.  

“No, he’s going to stay with mummy forever.” You held Theo to your skin letting his head rest against your chest as you began to cry again. “Never ever leaving my perfect baby boy.” You frowned looking at how adorable he looked. Trent hushed you sliding next to you on the hospital bed, taking a seat. “He’s so perfect. I love him.”  You explained to him but kept your eyes locked on him.

“Yeah, I know, baby. You did so well. Look at him. I actually think he looks a little like me.” Trent teased running his hand gently over his son's head.  You started blubbering crying. Trent let out a sympathetic breathy laugh at you. “Hey, just joking. It’s okay.” He kissed your forehead. 

“He looks like you. He looks just like you, T and he’s perfect… and beautiful.”  You kept crying. You were a mess. You don’t know why you felt so protective this time around. Of course you did with Teddy but you were also slightly terrified having it be your first pregnancy. 

“He’s pretty cute, huh?” Trent asked you inspecting your little boy. You nodded. Trent was emotional after Theo was born. He was balling in fact. 

“I’m so proud of you. You did so well, beautiful. You’re did so amazing.” Trent kept his lips pressed to your hair. You could feel him shake a little. He was crying. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that you had created one more little miracle that was finally in your arms. Theo Alexander-Arnold was an exact replica of Trent, marginally more than Teddy even was. You could already make out the little dimples indented in his cheeks. His nose, the shape of lips, everything was perfectly matched and perfectly cute.  “He’s everything baby. I’m so in love with him.” He cooed, eyes full of tears as he ran his hand over Theo’s head. “I am so grateful for you and all the sacrifices you’ve made for us and for him. I love you so much, beautiful.” He whimpered, leaning over more to see him. He gently nudged his nose against Theo’s tiny identical one. Theo batted his eyes open and Trent sucked in breath. The same perfectly warm deep brown eyes he had looking back at him. He fell in love instantly, completely in awe.   “He’s so beautiful. I can’t believe we made him.” You cried through a smile tugging at your lips as you inspected the tiny cherubic figure in your arms. Trent looked at you. You were absolutely glowing. Your eyes were tear stained but shining bright, filled with love. You were flush but your skin had never been softer. You were perfect. His heart swelled to the point where he got a little nervous it was possible it could burst. He would do anything for you and that little boy, Teddy too. 

“Shhh, baby. You’re okay. Just close your eyes for me, alright? Can you try to rest for a little while?” He asked you. You initially tried to say no  “Your boys will stay right here with you, I promise.” You gasped in a breath hearing ‘your boys’ for the first time in your life starting up crying again. Trent delicately took Theo out of your hold.

“Oh my gosh… You guys are making me cry stop.” Winnie cried along with you sitting in a chair in the room. Having missed your first birth she was a mess seeing you. Trent rolled his head to see Winnie pouting looking at you two.  

“Okay.. Okay.. come on though. Let’s go see mummy and daddy and your new brother.” Marcel cooed to Teddy holding her hand coming into the room. 

“Mummy matter?” Teddy yelped out too loud despite Marcel’s earlier instructions to be quiet. He laughed, shaking his head at her disregard once she saw you laying in the bed with an IV in your arm. She ran to the side of the bed Trent was seated on and he smiled with a laugh as she attempted to use him to climb onto the bed. “You tay?” She asked you, concerned. 

“I’m okay, Teddy girl. Come here, baby.” You smiled and reassured her. Winnie picked her up to help Trent and placed her on the bed between you two. “Can you say hi to your baby brother?” You asked her quietly. She tilted her head actually taking a closer look at the swaddled baby in Trent’s arms she hardly noticed before. 

“Hi baby. Is my Celly?” She asked you sitting up to peer into Trent’s arms that made you laugh a little. 

“Yeah, but this is your baby brother, Theo. Have to look after him and be the best big sister for me, okay, baby?” You cooed, running your hand over Theo’s head gently. Trent reached towards her and pulled her onto his lap with a kiss to her head and helped her hold Theo in front of him.

“Oh Tio… hmm.” Teddy spoke looking at the baby in her arms. “Hi Tio, we can share my mummy, tay?” She cooed kissing him. She was so sweet and gentle it made you start crying again. Winnie quick to follow. You guessed for the foreseeable future he would be ‘Tio’ to Teddy as opposed to ‘Theo’ with an h.

“What about daddy? Gonna share me too?” Trent asked her, dropping his head to press the side of his cheek to hers looking at Theo. 

“Nos tanks.” She replied with zero hesitation. Very sure of herself that daddy was not going to be on the table yet but she’d settle sharing you. 

“Teddy, can you watch mummy for me? I’m just going to get her a drink from the kitchen quickly, okay?” Trent asked Teddy standing up from the couch. A few days passed of having Theo in your lives and you were exhausted. You had fallen asleep next to Teddy. Theo was in a bassinet. Trent didn’t really need her to do anything but it’d make her feel important. It was important to make Teddy not feel left out despite all the focus on him. He could see and hear Theo from the kitchen and you’d be fine. You needed sleep.  

“Tay, dada.” Teddy confirmed plopping her head onto you. You shuffled a little maternally knowing it was your little girl without a thought. You pulled her into you instinctually.  

“Dada, mummy won’t let goes.” Teddy complained a little while later after Trent returned and you still hadn’t released her. She was getting bored.  

“Oh, I’m sorry baby.” He laughed. You looked happy with Teddy but he knew she was getting restless. He kissed your cheek a few times settling behind you before leaning to whisper into your ear. “Can you let go of our Teddy bear, please.” He smiled, flashing a wink up to Teddy. She giggled when you reluctantly let go of her. “C’mere. Can give me a cuddle instead, yeah?” Trent cooed pulling you back into him burying his face into the nap of your neck, kissing your skin. 

“Hello big sister.” Dianne cooed as Teddy ran to the front door to greet her after she let herself in to your house.  

“Nana shhh! Mama sleep with dada and baby.” Teddy explained to Dianne pushing her finger flush against her lips signaling her to be quiet. 

“Oh goodness. I’m sorry, are they upstairs?” Dianne asked her, lowering her voice. You knew Dianne was coming over but of course, she didn’t know what room you’d be in. She smiled, letting Teddy take her hand and drag her into the living room where you were after Teddy answered a simple ‘nos’ to her question. 

“Hey mum.” Trent lowly whispered, sitting up a bit but keeping you in his arms. “Sorry, Y/N just finally is sleeping. I didn’t want to get up. I’m not sure the last time she slept so…” Trent gave Dianne a sympathetic smile. 

“It’s good for her to rest. Let me see that beautiful boy. Looks just like daddy, huh?” Dianne gently picked up Theo from his bassinet as he began to wake. “Teddy girl, come with me and Theo to get you a snack. Want to come with us to the kitchen?” Diane asked Teddy who had just plopped herself on the carpet. Dianne winked at Trent knowing it’d probably be nice to just have a moment with no kids even if it was only for five minutes, even if they were only in the other room. 

“Hi…” You pouted as you woke up exhausted in Trent’s arms. Your eyes fluttered open more as you nuzzled into him until panic rushed through your entire body. “Wait! Where is he? T…” You looked at him terrified, almost on the verge of tears. God, you were so tired. 

“Baby, he’s with my mum. He’s okay. You’re okay. I got ya.” He cooed gently, kissing your lips. You nodded relieved. He leaned forward a little more and you thought he was going to kiss you again. You tilted your head ready to let your lips meet. He didn’t though. Instead Trent ran the tip of his nose against yours. You left out a shaky breath as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, I’ve got Teddy, and I’ve got Theo. Promise I will take care of all of you.” He whispered. You felt your heart falter hearing him. 

“We’re so lucky to have you daddy.” You smiled. You were going to say more but you heard Teddy’s giggle along with the scamper of your dogs come rushing out of the kitchen. Suddenly Theo’s cries began. Trent cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your skin. He gave you a cheeky smile. He sat up and you sighed as he pulled you with him. 

“Where you going baby bear!” Trent cooed, reaching out and nabbing Teddy mid run swinging her off the ground. Her giggles continuing. You got up and took Theo back from Dianne as they entered the room and calmed him down. Trent came to you with Teddy in one of his arms and pulled you and your little boy into them with his other. “They're ours, baby. All ours.” He laughed a little and you sighed before he pecked your lips. You smiled up at him with a happiness you never wanted to loose and returned the kiss.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter and the entire series 🤍

I cannot believe the series is officially over. I really can't express how much I loved talking about this with anyone that has messaged. The first part of The Epilogue is out now! I hope the official conclusion will do Y/N and Trent's story justice.

The End 🫶🤍✨🧸

[devildom-moss]

idk how to verbalise this idea properly so bear with me but: mc whose entire logic in life is 'fuck it we ball' including when it comes to romance, so they just completely go along with any attempts at flirting in a sort of "yes, and-" fashion

which probably only encourages said suitor and then mc has the Audacity to be surprised when it gets intense enough for them to realise they're actually being seduced lol

gn mc with just the brothers for now pls!! thank u for your services

Hopefully this request is what you were looking for. Honestly, I had a bit of confusion while writing, but I tried. I went with headcanons because that seemed like the best fit. Thanks for the request.

gn!MC who casually flirts back with the demon brothers headcanons

(and then has the audacity to be surprised that they're being genuinely pursued)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +2700

Lucifer

Lucifer is an awful flirt, trying so hard to fluster MC and convince them of his dominance. (Where’s it at though? I don’t see it.) His flirting is so suggestive that it’s actually pretty easy to just assume it’s a bit of playful teasing between friends.

For MC, it plays out like those posts that say something and then escalate immediately – something like “Kiss your homies goodnight. Kiss them with tongue. Eat their ass.”

Having an MC who flirts back with him can be a bit embarrassing, and it gets Lucifer’s hopes up so much. (“Could you pour me another cup of coffee, MC?” “Third one this morning, Luci. Not sleeping well?” “I’m afraid not. Perhaps you should come over and help – but then again, we might not get much sleep if you do.” “Aw, Luci, do you want me to fuck you senseless to help you fall asleep?” “If you’re offering, who am I to refuse.”)

He’ll be frustrated that MC keeps flirting with him, but they never follow through.

Lucifer is so horny that it’s absurd. MC could be completely normal, and this man would be thirsting. (“I really don’t want to do this lesson. This chapter is so boring.” “Normally, I wouldn’t use positive reinforcement, but if you complete your work, I’ll reward you.” “What kind of reward?” “Come to my room tonight and find out.”)

Poor MC doesn’t realize they’re being seduced until Lucifer has dragged them into his bed.

“Sleep with me.” “I’m not really tired, Lucifer.” “Good. Then you’ll have plenty of energy to make out and maybe even fuck me – if you want.” His touch would be so intimate – rubbing their inner thigh or groping their ass. “IF I WHAT?!?”

Lucifer would turn pink up to his ears. Part of him thinks MC is just teasing him again, but he would quickly realize that they’re being genuine. He’d feel absolutely humiliated. Did they not want him at all? Did all of that flirting mean nothing?

Before he could die from the shame, Lucifer would manage to blurt out, “Do you want me or not?” He wants some honest commitment in return for his affection, and if MC won’t bring that, that’s unacceptable. Of course, there is some thrill in a chase, but in that moment, Lucifer won’t have it in him. It would be a battle to fight some other day.

If MC tells him no or gives a half-hearted response, he will ask them to leave his room with one hand covering his blushing face. He wouldn’t even be able to look at them as he closed the door – and he’d probably avoid them for a day or two. (Also, he might cry a little after the door is locked).

If MC insists that they do want him, he’ll be especially needy while also acting all sadistic – attempting to tease them to distract from his own embarrassment. This poor loser will require so many kisses to reinflate his ego.

Mammon

To be fair, Mammon would bring this upon himself. He loves to act like he’s uninterested – constantly interrupting his fawning and puppy-like following of MC to save himself from the absolute humiliation of being *gasp* honest about his feelings.

I can see Mammon regularly initiating flirting, but this man can’t follow through to save his own life (maybe to save the life of someone else, though). An MC who reciprocates his flirting would leave him a blushing, flustered mess. Most of the time, his embarrassment cuts the interaction short.

“Ya just can’t get enough of the Great Mammon, can ya?” “Of course not, you handsome devil~” “I- uh! Hmph! Damn right!” he’d say it, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact while the blush rises in his cheeks. How is MC supposed to respond?

If they tease him further and flirt more, he’ll just yell and tell them to knock it off. If they just shrug it off and move on, Mammon will be too flustered to make another move on them that day. The flirtatious spark just kind of fizzles out like a defective firecracker.

It takes a lot of boldness on Mammon’s end to get MC to realize he’s being serious. And honestly, Mammon is so adorable, MC may have the opportunity to take the initiative and push things a little further first. (You want to tell me most MCs could just flirt with Mammon, reducing him to a blushing, aggressive mess, and go back to watching that movie or playing that video game upon Mammon’s belligerent demand, and not want to kiss his face? Okay, sure.)

But let’s ignore that thought and say MC follows Mammon’s flirting in the “yes, and” fashion. After Mammon continuously sabotages his own chances, eventually, he’s going to get so frustrated that he will smother his own shyness long enough to get what he wants.

He’ll get MC alone and string together some make-shift confession – a plea for more. “Ya know, if ya wanna kiss the Great Mammon or somethin’, I’m not gonna stop ya – like, I mean, I want a little more outta ya. So, don’t hold back just cause ya think I don’t want to or nothin’.” (translation: Please kiss me. I know I act like I don’t want you, but I really, really want you to kiss me. Please, please, please.)

His face will burn, and a blush will work its way up to his ears. It’ll be hard to deny the intensity of his feelings, and it will weigh down on MC – a truth previously held in a bag on their back, tethered to dozens of helium balloons that disguised its weight, and then suddenly found every string cut loose by Mammon’s admission. He really loved them. For his confession, all Mammon would get was a stunned but heartfelt “oh.”

He gets so upset and embarrassed that MC didn’t realize he was being serious before. He went on a rollercoaster of emotions; meanwhile, this whole time, they hadn’t even taken his advances in earnest. It’s practically offensive.

The only remedy for Mammon’s bruised dignity is for MC to immediately hold and kiss him until he’s temporarily satisfied. (“Ya owe me big time for not takin’ me seriously.”)

Leviathan

I mean, he kind of has to flirt before MC can flirt back – unless we’re going to count accidentally blurting out his innermost perverted desires as flirting. Sure, I suppose it’s basically flirting to tell someone “It’s sexy when you tell me what to do. I can’t stop imagining you doing that in other settings.”

He’s so bad at flirting that nothing will happen for a long time after he realizes he’s head over heels. Levi is fine spending the rest of his (or at least MC’s) life pining for them – or at least he believes that. But the longing and desire will start to creep in, and he’ll wonder how much he can ask from MC. Friends can hold hands and maybe even cuddle, right? Maybe even kiss? Could they even –?

The thoughts eat away at him until he can’t wait for MC to make the move anymore. It slips out of him like some mating request written by Dr. Suess: “Would you –? Could you –? With an otaku? A gross, disgusting one, too?”

Levi is so visibly flustered that he doesn’t leave much room for ignorance. Even the most extreme masochist wouldn’t subject themselves to the furiously blushing, trembling state that Leviathan had worked himself into. He’d be on the brink of tears. All his hope in the world would be precariously perched on a ledge, awaiting your response.

I can’t see MC not knowing that Levi was attempting to seduce them, but perhaps the timing of it came as a surprise. Or perhaps they had never taken his affection seriously. He has so many favorites that he can’t pursue; just because he has a massive crush on MC doesn’t mean he had plans to act on it.

He will get even more embarrassed and down on himself to know that MC didn’t take him seriously at first. He understands, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

He will require physical reassurance – as much of it as MC is willing to give him. And honestly, if MC doesn’t end up kissing him until he forgets how to think after his confession, he’ll probably hide in his room for a few weeks purely out of shame.

Satan

With an MC like this, the back-and-forth flirting goes on for an inordinate amount of time. Satan is not a flirt by any definition, but when there’s someone he likes, he knows how to turn on the charm. He’s smart, passionate, and mentally quick on his feet; he’s a natural charmer for the right audience.

Satan moves pretty slow when romance is concerned. If Levi wasn’t such a hopeless cause (affectionately), Satan would probably be the slowest to escalate a romantic relationship. He and MC will have a dozen dates under their belts before the desire for more had become an unbearable burden for Satan to silently ignore.

Eventually, Satan would find himself reading in his room with MC, unable to hold back anymore. He would ask, “Would you mind if I kissed you?” “No, I don’t mind if you want to.” “Could I kiss you now?” “Eh, sure.”

Everything up to that point could have been misread as platonic or some casual interest – maybe even curiosity on his end.

But he was serious, and it was evident in the way he approached MC to collect that kiss. He would straddle their hips, set their book aside (face down to mark the page like a real gentleman), and lean down for the kiss. Then, his lips would move against theirs, and the smallest sigh would escape him like a quiet release of sexual tension that had pressurized his entire body. Then, it would all click for MC.

Surprisingly, he wouldn’t be upset or humiliated if MC hadn’t taken him seriously before. In fact, he sees it as more of a personal failing, and in a low, seductive voice, he would tell them, “Allow me to prove how genuine and deep my feelings are for you.”

Asmodeus

He flirts with everyone, so how was MC supposed to know??

He asks them on dates so often. He’s probably the only one who could make out with MC and they’d still think, “yeah, we’re besties” because when Asmo pulls away with a giggle and a grin, telling them how much fun that was, it doesn’t feel serious.

It would take a moment of angst – either Asmo feeling like MC doesn’t take his advances seriously enough (and they don’t) or MC getting down on themselves – for them to realize.

Asmo would pull them into his room and leave small kisses all over them, peppering in compliments. “You’re so gorgeous, and I adore looking at your face.” Then, he would kiss their cheek. “You’re such a sweetheart.” Then, the other cheek. “I always have so much fun when I’m with you. I don’t ever want you to leave my side.” He would kiss their forehead. “I want you to feel confident; you’re such a wonderful soul.” (He would probably add more compliments if MC was feeling self-conscious.)

His words would get sweeter and more honest. “I feel seen in your eyes – like every part of me is accepted. I don’t have to play it up or try.” He would work his way down their neck with soft pecks to their skin. “I want to share everything beautiful in this world with you.” In part to avoid meeting their gaze. “I want to make you smile with everything I have.” And in part so he could whisper the words into their ear. “I want to help you whenever you need me. I’ll sit right next to you through any pain and hardships you encounter.” No one else had earned the right to hear his praise and affection. “I want to be a comfort for you – someone you can return to like a home.”

Finally, he would face them with a striking affection. “You know I’m in love with you, right? It’s not just lust and fun. You’re everything. You matter the most – after me, of course. It’s me and you and everything else.”

Asmo seduces everyone. That isn’t shocking. But this was more than seduction. It was genuine courtship. He won’t fault MC for being surprised. It caught him off guard too.

Beelzebub

Beel is not super flirty, but he makes it known that he cares through his actions. So, there aren’t many opportunities for MC to “yes, and” flirt back with him.

He asks them out to get food often and brings them snacks, but that doesn’t signal any romantic intentions. Sometimes he might stare at MC affectionately or admit how happy he is to spend time with them, but it’s nowhere near intense.

Sometimes, he asks for something more selfish. It starts small: petting his head, holding his hand, hugging him. None of those register as seduction from Beel for MC, especially compared to the affectionate nature of his twin. In fact, no one would fault MC for thinking these were platonic wants. After all, Beel has been through a lot. Sometimes this sweet, big baby boy just needs physical affection.

Then, he would get a bit bolder with his requests: “Could you feed me?” “Can I feed you?” “Would you hold me?”

As innocent and platonic as Beel may seem, he makes a lot of off-hand remarks that sound a bit perverted. “I bet MC’s lips would taste good.” “I wonder what you taste like.” “MC has nice hands. I bet they would feel good…” These comments could open the door for some flirting from MC, though. “Wanna taste me, Beel?” “Should I give you a massage? Or maybe something more?”

MC flirting with him would make his heart race. Even if MC didn’t follow through with their flirtatious offer, it would encourage Beel to keep pushing his luck.

Finally, he would ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Beel would look so shy and embarrassed, holding his hands awkwardly to his chest, that it would be hard not to take him seriously. The question – and his desire – would be a slight shock. Beel wouldn’t mind that MC was surprised, although he would be disappointed if he was turned down.

If MC takes him up on that offer, they will come to realize that his ravenous hunger showed itself through a kiss, too – as if he had been starving for MC’s touch and affection.

Belphegor

He’s so affectionate and cuddly. In that way, he’s similar to Asmo; it’s pretty hard to tell how serious and intense Belphie’s feelings are. He’s just kind of like that.

It’s common for Belphie to ask to be spoiled with affection – head pats, feeding him, hugging him, sleeping together, going out with him, praising him, holding his hand, being his pillow, etc.

His need for attention doesn’t cover up for how flushed his face gets when MC is the one to give him affection. His neediness doesn’t explain how much he clings to MC or how he blushes and tells them not to stop touching him.

So, actually, he’s less flirty than he is demanding of attention. Going along with his demands only encourages him to vocalize and act on more of his desires. He’d even ask permission to kiss them and to be kissed.

MC probably wouldn’t figure it out until Belphie starts sleepily trying to make out with them.

“Belphie, are you half-asleep?” “What? No. I’m awake. Why?” “That was a really heated kiss.” “Of course it was. Can we keep going?” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t you like me back? We sleep together, go on dates, cuddle, and you even let me kiss your face and neck whenever I please. Don’t you want to go further?”

It hits them. Belphie can read the look of surprise on MC’s face, and it makes him pout. MC really should have known how he felt by then, but he’s confident that his affection is reciprocated before MC even responds.

“Sheesh. You’re really difficult, you know? I’ve had to do a lot of the work here because you’re so dense.” Belphie would straddle MC’s lap and take off his shirt. “I’ll let it go this time, but you better start putting in more effort from now on.”

A/N: Only about 1 hour left to vote in the poll. And we just got to 100 so y'all are getting 2 posts this month. Genuinely, I typed this a/n up, talking about only needing one more vote, checked it again, and the one vote is no longer needed. Good job, y'all. I swear if there are ties...