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obeymeluv · 2 days ago

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In Your Defense [PT 2 - Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomfiore]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Azul is no stranger to visiting different shops to stay on top of trends. Valentine's Day wasn't something they had in the Coral Sea so this trip was more for the experience than anything. He's taking in the overwhelming but impressive amount of red, pink, and white decorations while trying to look at the other shoppers out of the corner of his eye.

What are they buying? What's most popular?

The holiday seems too brief to plan a full menu, or even to-go specials. Maybe he can do something next year.

There's an emphasis on chocolates and sweets. He's not even eating any of it and his teeth hurt! The small chocolate assortments make more sense than the huge brick of chocolate--dark chocolate?--several Pomfiore students are planning to split between themselves. His stomach hurts at the thought of trying to eat even a third of what they're holding.

In his opinion it's an unimpressive holiday. A marketable one for sure, but unimpressive. Clearly it's meant for the nice, sentimental, mushy people out there.

Not to say there's no one he'd spoil. No one he cares about. Matter of fact, he's got something crunchy in his basket for Floyd! And if it weren't for his mother living underwater, she might like some of these cutesy knickknacks! A set of cookie cutters catch his eye and Azul throws them in his basket without thinking.

Damn hand-brain.

He stares into his own basket, wondering what the justification is. There's a part of his brain saying he doesn't need a reason but he's not an impulsive person. He's a practical person and the practical reason he needs those cookie cutters is to make cookies for the lounge in case any poor soul misses their chance to get something from Sam's!

Yes. Yes, that's it.

He may or may not be trying to tell you he likes you by collecting heart-shaped things. You'll check him out at the register and he'll just keep handing you heart things. Offering his heart over and over.

Not that you'd know. Azul doesn't have the guts to tell you yet. He's got three hearts but no guts.

It's just not the right time, he tells himself. Not the right way.

He puts sprinkles and chocolate stirring spoons into his basket. There's a little mushroom figurine that has white hearts instead of the usual spots. That's for Jade.

Azul weaves between the shelves to get to the refrigerated section, buying a couple of cartons of milk and ice cream. He's not fast but he's stronger than he looks. Aside from the work in his mother's restaurant in the Coral Sea, cooking on land has cultured a lot of muscle in unexpected ways--straining full stockpots, blending quarts of sauces, roasting whole chickens, and hefting huge fish onto the cutting board for portioning. It'll be nothing to carry it all back.

He just doesn't like to do it. And he doesn't like to lose his voice or go completely pink in front of you, but he does. Azul tries to look without looking, charmed by the glittery dangle in your hair and how it brings out the color of your eyes.

Then, he hears it. "How much do you cost?"

It is not enough to beg his pardon. The Seven must also be begged.

A fury whips up inside of him. He's furious that it's just so easy for that lander to chat you up. He's furious that he's not confident enough to do it when he's been drowning in these feelings for weeks. The manager part of his brain kicks in and he becomes furious that you're being accosted on the clock.

SAM WOULD NEVER, BUT WHERE IS HE?! STAFF SHOULD NOT BE MADE TO ENDURE SUCH CONDITIONS!

"Hardly appropriate for the occasion, don't you think?" Azul has stepped in with his signature smooth smile and calm demeanor. He has no cane, hat, or coat at the moment but he knows he makes people uncomfortable without them. There's something about him that makes people nervous. The pecking dread of 'he's human but not totally human' makes them jumpy and very prey-like.

"I-I was just messing around," the guy deflects.

"There's a time and a place. Unfortunately, it's not here and not now. You're interrupting the flow of business and I don't think the other patrons are happy," Azul hums a little as he and the abysmal Casonova look back at all the people in line. They are, in fact, not happy.

"I'll just go." he grabs the change bashfully and doesn't look back.

Azul thanks the person who let him cut in line, half wondering if said person will come back and try to coax a favor out of him. "Thanks, Azul." you smile at him.

"You're most welcome." Azul adjusts his glasses before layering the bags on his arms. You help him with the door. "I'd be happy to treat you to a milkshake. You know, something sweet to make up for whatever THAT was." he gestures to the guy in the distance.

WHY IS HE TALKING? WHY DID HE KEEP TALKING? THE LEGS NEED TO MOVE BUT THEY'RE NOT!

"Sounds great! I'll stop by after my shift."

"Okay," his voice cracks a bit but you don't hear it because the door's already closed. He breaths a sigh of relief.

----

Floyd was sent to pick through the pink and red chaos at Sam's while Jade and Azul redecorated for a Valentine's special at the lounge. It was a last-minute idea inspired by the deluge of advertising. They'd gotten bigger things in town like tablecloths and fancy napkins but smaller treats were lacking. He was tasked with getting melting chocolates and pre-made stuff to balance out the strawberries and fresh groceries they bought.

A big, aggravated sigh passed through his sharp teeth. The line is long and he doesn't really want to do this. Floyd feels his brain shutting off as his looks at heart streamers and silver-and-pink tinsel. At least I won't have to slave over a hot burner all night, Floyd sighs again as he looks at the goods and wonders what would make Azul happy.

The menu will be limited. Each item is heart-shaped, sweet, or both. It honestly just sounds like an excuse to sell people overpriced sugar.

Floyd buys a couple packs of melting chocolates in different colors and some crunchy sour candies for the trouble. Jade sends him a text asking him to grab a couple of cans of whipped cream for the pancakes and crepes. He steps out of line, grabs the cans, and pauses when he hears the guy shoot his shot.

"How much do you cost?"

Really?

Landers are so weird. They don't seem to have any conditions for mating. Why would you entertain this dude when he hasn't shown you he could provide or protect you? Spending money to buy things so he could talk to you isn't the way to provide. Buying your time is no different than those underwater pricks trying to curry his dad's favor with gifts.

It's disingenuous and disgusting.

"I don't see a 'for sale' sign. Can't buy it if it's not advertised." Floyd frowns at the little worm in front of him, sharp teeth poking out beneath his upper lip. "That's how shops work if you didn't know." Floyd laughs.

He was stupid enough to ask you out so he might be too stupid to realize why that pickup line didn't work.

"R-Right." the guy nods, swallowing thickly. Floyd was absently rolling his shoulder, annoyed with how long he'd held the basket. The guy noticed his working muscle and booked it, grabbing most of his change. A coin skipped off the counter, twinkling under the lights. Giggling to himself, Floyd stooped to pocket the change.

"Heya Shrimpy,"

"Hey Floyd," you started scanning the basket of items.

"Ya hungry? It's pretty busy in here."

"A little." you admitted. "But I'll be off soon. I can go back to Ramshackle and make something."

"Nah, come to the Lounge! We're doing specials for groups and couples."

"Does Grim count?" you give a little laugh. Azul lets him in sometimes depending on his attitude. At the very least, he'll let Grim get something to go.

"You get the best deal if you go with me. I'll buy your whole meal." Floyd wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully. His gold eye shines.

"Oh! I like that! I'll bite!"

"A bit early for that but I'll see you there." Floyd knows what he said has confused you. You landers aren't really keen on stuff from the Coral Sea but that's okay. He had a date with you and that's what matters.

----

Jade isn't quite sure what Sam's inventory will hold but he's been tasked with finding interesting things for the Lounge. Pink things, shiny things, profitable things--anything. Azul is convinced it will give him an edge over other places to eat. Never mind the fact that convenience is key and the students don't want to pay for the bus fare or compete with crowds in town.

He peruses the chocolate molds and candy necklaces, amused by the fact you can wear it and eat it. What a novel idea! Sam put a few types of tea on reserve for him and Jade knew they were pretty shades of pink and blue when brewed so that was something. The mer picks up a box of crunchy straw-like things and puts them in the basket. If they don't work as real straws, they can be milkshake accents.

Loaf cakes catch his eye. You could get at least ten slices out of each; top them with a bit of ice cream and you have a cheap but elegant-looking dessert. He puts a few in the basket. Teas considered, Jade is confident in his choices and ready to check out.

"Oya oya? What's this?" Jade's golden eye pierces the spineless lander in front of him. Did his ears deceive him or were you being accosted by unworthiness? "Do repeat yourself. I'm interested."

It sounds like an ask but it's not. It's a demand. A demand for this man to prostrate himself as an apology for his inferiority. For the gall to so much as breathe in your presence.

A punishment for conceiving the notion to approach you, he supposes. A light punishment, all things considered. Jade was capable of far more than some casual embarrassment, after all. His smile was polite but his words were anything but. "Go on. You may not have their full attention but you have mine."

"J-Just forget I said anything, okay?" the guy completely ignores him to whimper to you. He snatches whatever he bought so quick Jade doesn't know what it was.

No matter.

"Hello there," Jade smiles down at you. You definitely fit the holiday theme. Oh! Does that mean he should take you back to the lounge? You're interesting and that fits Azul's criteria.

Yes, he thinks you'd be perfect in the lounge.

"Hi Jade." you pack his items away dutifully. You bag the teas carefully.

Pink and shiny--yes, you must come to the lounge.

"Seeing as you're working for Sam today, I'd love for you to stop by and try these teas. I'm sure he'll appreciate feedback from more than just myself."

"I can make time for tea."

"Perfection."

----

Kalim is admiring the myriad of pinks and reds, bracelets and bangles jingling as he skips into Sam's. Valentine's Day is an interesting holiday. It's practically bursting at the seams with color and he's delighted to know red features heavily. The holiday is practically made to host in Scarabia!

Maybe they could make a red-inspired menu? A red and pink menu? He can't really think of foods that would fit the theme and he'd rather not give Jamil a stomach ache trying all of the chocolate things in here. Kalim trots off to look at the flowers and trinkets, just narrowly avoiding Jamil's stern grab. "Don't run off without me!" Jamil chastises, Kalim giving a half-hearted hum as he analyzed a pair of gold and red earrings.

They weren't cheap but they weren't expensive, either. The price point was fair, Kalim thought. Being who he was, he'd learned to tell the quality of gems and gold from a young age.

Would you like jewelry? He's never seen you wear jewelry. Kalim has bugged Jamil about you a million times, bouncing ideas off of him until he was so frustrated he left the room.

"I think they'd appreciate food more, given their circumstances." Jamil puts the earrings back on the shelf.

"But I always give them food, Jamil! Don't you think they want something different?"

"You're overthinking, Kalim," Jamil taps him in the forehead with a finger. "People are simple. Give them food and attention."

"I would've taken them out on a carpet ride but someone hid my carpet." even when Kalim was trying to cut his red eyes and look peeved, it didn't work. His face was too round and cherubic for it.

"I don't trust that thing," Jamil huffs, guiding him back to the line.

Kalim listens to people talk about plans to split chocolates and call relatives to see what they'd like and a sad pang cuts through him.

Why isn't it that easy for him? He's got more money than people could ever dream of and yet he feels like he's not doing enough for you.

Not that you'd know what he's done for you. He hasn't exactly said he likes you yet. Surely he'd made it obvious with all the invites to Scarabia, right? You hadn't quite caught on to the grocery drops yet but he understands the confusion; Crowley took credit for at least one of those and Kalim was not happy.

"I see an empty-handed Imp!" Sam makes him and Jamil jump. "Are my wares not enough for you, Little One?" he tuts at Kalim's empty hands.

"Oh there's lots of cool stuff!" Kalim promises, smiling brightly. "I just have to be careful about what I eat!"

"What about some roses? Those are popular! They're up there by the register. And we have small fruit arrangements in the refrigerated section, of course."

"Actually, we're just here to deliver an invitation." Jamil redirects Kalim when he seems to be thinking about going to the refrigerated section.

"We could get some festive napkins!" Kalim is leafing through packs of heart designs and colors. Sam seems satisfied. Jamil heaves an irritated sigh as the store owner moves on to his next mark.

Kalim almost drops the napkins when he hears what the guy said to you. It takes Jamil by surprise, too. Jamil starts to panic when Kalim doesn't move; Kalim's outbursts were rare but even rarer were the moments he just froze.

A frozen Kalim means he's contemplating. Dipping his toes into the side of himself he doesn't ever show because it disgusts and disappoints him. The young boy squares his shoulders and raises his head in a way that proves he was raised with etiquette and presence. It's the walk of someone unconcerned because he has so much money that nothing is a problem.

Quick as a flash that cunning, stewing heaviness disappears. Kalim hooks his arm around the guys neck, taking him by surprise. Disarmed by his sunny grin and stunned by his boldness, he stumbles over to a wall of cards. Jamil slithers through the aisles and positions himself just so to listen.

In these rare moments, when Kalim puts on that face, they think alike. Kalim hates these moments because it shows him that people just want money. That they'll trip over themselves for enrichment, compromising morals and anything else as long as the price is right.

But this time it works in his favor.

"Instead of asking how much they cost," the sunniness slowly drains from Kalim's voice, "ask yourself how much it would cost for you to leave them alone. Like, not ask them out again. At all. Ever."

It's the first time someone at NRC realizes Kalim's not all sunshine and rainbows. And that his pampered life hasn't left him completely soft. Kalim had to go through the same training Jamil did, being the heir to a massive fortune and all. He needs to be able to hold his own even though he shouldn't expect to.

Only he and Jamil know some of his rings are hollow and hold poisons. The guy doesn't know how close he is to said poisons.

"Y'know, it's, uh..it's on me. Free." the guy squeaks out, dipping out from under Kalim's arm.

Content, Kalim skips up to you and hands you the decorated envelope with gold calligraphy. "Please come to my party!" he looks at you hopefully, eyes shining.

"I would love to! You know I love your parties!"

"Perfect! I'll pick you up when you're done, okay?" Kalim waves to you.

"KALIM DON'T LEAVE! WE HAVE TO PAY FOR THE NAPKINS! COME BACK!" Jamil has no idea how many sets of napkins he just left with. "Keep the change," he breaths, darting after him.

----

Jamil was taking a rare moment to himself. Lilia and Cater promised they'd keep Kalim occupied for a little while so he could take a breather. They both understood what it was like to look after people, even if it wasn't as serious or to the same degree. The Pop Music Club sessions were normally two hours long, so he had time. Kalim had been yammering nonstop about the Sam's Valentine's setup so Jamil promised to take a look on his behalf.

He grew up around unfathomable finery, almost indulgent to the point of foolishness. Gold forks, gold plates, a knife handle carved from a tree in the Sunset Savanna and inlaid with diamonds--you name it. Perhaps that was why nothing caught his eye, Jamil thought.

So many people were excited about it, though. He had to put himself in their shoes. Their average shoes, just like he was forced to be average lest Kalim feel inadequate.

Poor thing, Jamil rolled his eyes. He was a pro at filtering out noise thanks to Kalim and his ridiculous number of siblings. It was easy to let his brain go and really look at the trinkets and seasonal food. Loathe as he was to admit, some of this stuff was cute.

Jamil let himself bask in the happiness. The freedom.

This is what he wanted for himself one day--traveling, seeing the sights, sampling unusual foods at special times of the year.

Maybe this wasn't so silly after all.

He picked up a few packets of instant curry, only what he felt he could eat and dispose of before fetching Kalim. Curry was a huge weakness of his and he hated that Kalim practically banned it. The amount of caffeine and tea he drank probably bordered on unhealthy (or at least deserved research) but it didn't stop him from throwing a canned coffee into his basket. Because he liked his curry savory and hot, he threw in a strawberry-rose milk drink. It seemed interesting.

Jamil felt the crick in his neck when he snapped his head up in disbelief. Who was this nobody asking you out?!

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

With no Kalim here to temper him, to distract him or force him into the mediocrity, Jamil thought of letting go and lighting the guy up just because.

It really was appalling, his approach. Nothing to offer? What talents or skills did he have? What made him so special, more special than anyone else at NRC?

Nothing, that's what. He probably didn't even know HALF of what Jamil did!

"More than you will ever earn," Jamil answered him. "I'm sure your capacity to make money is on the same pitiful level as your self-awareness. Or do you need glasses to see they're not interested?"

He was known for his biting wit so this was nothing out of character. The way he stared into the boy as if to set him on fire might have been, had no one ever seen him try to get Floyd to cooperate in Basketball Club.

He'd earned his Viper namesake, the boy's ego clearly bitten and bruised as he dragged himself away. His words were deadly, much like Viper venom. Jamil didn't bother watching him leave, setting his basket quietly on the counter and taking out the items.

"Thank you."

All of that venom suddenly dried up. Jamil was feeling quite shy and toothless, not that he'd ever admit it. If he looked up at you, he knew he'd be done for. He could feel his neck heating up.

Unable to resist poking a little fun at him--when did you ever see him blush?--you handed him the change and slapped a smiley face sticker on the back of his hand.

IT HAD HEART EYES!

"I have to go." Jamil took off.

----

Vil was disciplined ninety-five percent of the time so he could indulge the other five percent. Rook all but dragged him to Sam's, waxing poetic about the holiday in all it's pink, sugary glory. He even made Vil promise not to look at any labels while he shopped. Or he could just compromise and let Rook buy him one sweet that he would have to eat no matter what.

That didn't seem too bad, so Vil conceded. Live a little, right?

Several companies had reached out to him in the beginning of February but their products were gluttonous and made him feel sick just looking at them. He felt like he'd be doing his followers a disservice to promote them because they just looked like death in a package. The only one he'd considered so far was a juice from an organic company called 'Beautiful Blends'.

No, not because they had beautiful in the name. The ingredients were organic--he researched the farms--and they had a nutritionist and dietician developing the blends. They had a blend for energy, immune support, digestion, and even one for headache relief. He was interested in the actual beauty blend; it had strawberry, coconut milk, collagen, and several other things he was interested in. It was a milky pink and perfect for Sam to sell during Valentine's Day.

NRC wasn't exactly health-minded outside of Pomfiore so he wasn't worried about missing out. He broke off from Rook, moving with grace and purpose to the refrigerated section. Vil took a split second to admire his reflection in the glass door, satisfied with his skin and the loose hair that escaped his half-bun but had the courtesy to frame his face despite its disobedience. His ring and nails clinked against the glass bottle but he paid it no mind.

"Would you like a basket?" Rook offered his. Vil peered curiously into said basket, unsurprised to see other flavors of Beautiful Blends in there. Rook knew him eerily well. Maybe he knew which ones he'd like to try. He also knew Vil was against overconsumption and wouldn't buy them all at once nor of his own volition.

"I'm fine, thanks." Vil smiled at him, appreciating his constant presence. His discipline and tenacity tended to chase a lot of people away but not Rook. There were people who appreciated him for his routines and followed him loyally, but not like Rook.

Rook wasn't just a 'yes' man. He was Vil's balance in every aspect. As if to prove that, he took the Beautiful Blend from Vil and put it in the basket. Vil didn't like his hands getting wet because that messed with the lotion he applied and it left a weird film on his hands the rest of the day.

"I just said--I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Vil was caught off guard by the flirtation and couldn't believe his ears. It was rare for anyone to surprise him but some NOBODY is trying to make nice with HIS POTATO?!

AS IF!

All he can manage is, "HOW GAUCHE!" as he breezes to the front of the line and stares at the man, absolutely floored. This moment would be a permanent reference for any scene where he needed to look surprised. And lost for words.

And disgusted. And furious.

"You don't think we'd make a cute couple?" the guy teases.

"You want to know what I think?" Vil proceeds to systematically point out the guy's flaws--posture, hair, that one zit coming up in the middle of his forehead--before pointing out that his greatest offense is his sheer selfishness. He's selfish for putting you in a situation where you might cave under peer pressure!

"That's enough, Roi du Poison," Rook shushed him, patting his arm and forcing it down so Vil quit pointing at the little gremlin. If he didn't stop him, he'd keep going. Rook was secretly glad he'd grabbed the Beauty Blend out of his hand earlier; if he was any more worked up it might've gone across the guy's head.

The guy was stunned by the takedown. Vil pointed out things he hadn't thought about. Things he was already insecure about (Vil could tell). "Apologize!" Vil barked in that Housewarden voice.

"I'm sorry." the guy left with whatever trash he bought.

Vil took a moment to compose himself, hands on his hips as he watched the gremlin leave. Fully relaxed, Vil walked to the counter and motioned for Rook to hand him the basket. He set everything out like nothing happened.

"Thank you, Vil."

"It was nothing." he clicked his tongue, waving his hand dismissively.

"Not to me."

Oh, you're clever. And honest. And cute. Maybe he'll drop a hint about his crush in his next interview. Rook forgets he knows French, too, and Vil smashes his hat down on his head on the off chance you know what 'he wants to love you and hug you and kiss you' is in French.

----

It's only natural that Rook would show up for the Valentine's Day sale. He is, after all, a lover of love. Sam never fails to disappoint with his wares and Rook is having a grand time perusing the aisles. There's copious amounts of candy, thoughtful cards, card games for couples, and fill-in-the-blank books with cute phrases and poems!

"You're mine," he smiles at said book, putting it in his basket. There's condensed versions of romantic classics and, had he not read them a million times before, that would be in his basket too. He picks up a pair of heart-shaped glasses for Vil. The desire for liver pate rises in him and he doubles back to check the canned meats. Midway through his careful search, he hears the...attempt...at woo.

A sad, beautiful, nervous attempt.

Rook rises to his full height, feather on his hat dancing almost indignantly as he moves to the front of the aisle. He has half a mind to huck that can of pate hard enough to scare the boy but that would not be very beaute of him.

"Mon amie," Rook drapes his arm around the boy's neck with a disappointed sigh, "There is much to teach you in when it comes to romance."

"Like what? I--" Rook knows that's rhetorical and the guy could care less what he's going to say but he uses his uniqueness to his advantage. He launches into a small monologue about how romance is considerate and kind, not brash and unrefined like that heartfelt confession. Love is delicate like morning dew and tender like the tempting embrace of your bed seconds before you have to get up for the day. Above all, love is knowing your partner in all aspects, which includes when things have gone too far and are not welcome.

Sure, a handful of people left the store entirely but mission accomplished. The guy left shortly after Rook subtly dragged his confession. Satisfied, Rook flashed you a kind smile and unpacked his basket.

"And sometimes love wears a purple hat with a little feather." you smirk at him.

"Oh, Trickster! My heart!" Rook places his hands on his cheeks, face a pretty pink that compliments his green eyes.

---

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, Vil loosened the reigns of Pomfiore's diet for the day. Epel wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and immediately set off for Sam's. With luck, he'd still have some meats on sale. The holiday was all about fluff and pink and sweets so he wasn't worried about missing out on macarons.

To his delight, there was a selection of macarons. He was in hog heaven! If anyone heard the noise he made, it was probably the deepest and most demented thing they'd heard since Vil got his paws on him and 'refined' him. Epel was going to eat himself sick and regret it in the morning but not right now.

He picked up a second basket just for meats, afraid to crush his beloved macarons. The hamburger buns could share a basket with them, but not the meats. Knowing he had a calorie pass for the day unleashed something primal in Epel. All of a sudden he had SO MANY IDEAS.

Bacon burger? Bacon burger.

Hell, he could even make himself a little less homesick and have a traditional Harvestinian breakfast! He put a small thing of breakfast sausages in the basket. The instant grits were a bit of an insult, as was the 'heat and eat' pulled pork but the portion was reasonable and it wouldn't be money down the drain if Vil confiscated it tomorrow.

His patience begins to thin as he waits in line. The baskets are heavy but they're nothing he can't handle, growing up on a farm and all. The line doesn't seem to be moving at all! What in tarnation?, Epel squints menacingly, leaning out of line to see what the hold up was.

DID THAT NOBODY JUST ASK HOW MUCH YOU COST?!

It's clear you're uncomfortable and even MORE clear that this dude is NOT GETTING THE HINT.

As someone who's been hit on more than he cared for, this makes him mad on a whole 'nother level. You're doing all the right things--redirecting, professional body language--but this guy thinks he's going to get his way.

He's not. Everyone knows it but no one's saying anything.

Well he's gonna. What would his grandma say if he just stood by in a situation like this? He puts his hair up in a ponytail and glares at the guy.

"Were you raised in a barn? Couldn't be because EVEN ANIMALS KNOW WHEN TO LEAVE ALONE AN' GIT!" he gets louder with each word, rolling ups his sleeves. He spares his meat basket a quick glance and picks up the still-cold bacon. It's firmer than the hamburger patties and could give a decent wallop. "GO ON NOW, GIT!" Epel brandishes the bacon.

The guy is understandably confused and concerned. Probably the first time he'd been threatened with cold food. If he wasn't going for beef and bacon, he would've snagged a bag of frozen chicken wings and really wailed on the guy.

"I SAID GIT!" Epel chases him out like the dog he is, the guy narrowly dodging a bacon smack.

Word was going to get back to Vil for sure but he didn't care.

"Looks like you're going to have a good time!" you ring up the meats.

"I'm a free man today! Of course I'm gonna have a good time!"

"Have a good day, Epel. Thanks for stopping by!"

"I...I'd have a better time if you wanted to come eat some of this with me. I-I was plannin' on inviting Jack and Deuce, too. And Ace. Ace likes hamburgers. Vil lets me grill outside of Pomfiore sometimes." he starts to ramble, voice getting smaller and smaller as he goes.

"Sure! I'll grab some drinks and stuff when I get off." you smile, double-bagging the meats.

He's red as an apple when he leaves and that'll get back to Vil, too, but he doesn't care.

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Jade Leech x Reader #Floyd Leech x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto x reader #Kalim Al-Asim x Reader #Jamil Viper x Reader #Rook Hunt x Reader #Vil x Reader #Epel x Reader

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torlibram · 2 days ago

Text

"OK, Larry, you may want to sit down, this might take a while."

"So, in the beginning was the Word, they did at least get that part right in the big book. However, no-one has recorded that the word in question was 'Bugger'."

"I know, not what you expected. It probably should have been something more impressive, maybe with Richard Strauss Also Spraching the old Zarathustra, but no. The Word that was with me at the moment of creation was 'Bugger'.

"See, the thing was, I had forty-three million square miles of firmament to nail up overnight - not that there were nights yet, mind you, lucky escape on that one - and I was on the ninety-sixth floor of the scaffolding when I dropped the hammer."

"So I climb down all ninety six ladders to the Infinite Formless Void and can I find the sodding thing? Can I 'eck as like? I was seriously tempted to start ahead of schedule with the whole Let There Be Light business, except that would have all the sub-contracted processes kicking in before I was ready for them... Oh yes, I sub-contracted out some of your universe. Back at the beginning I thought I knew it all, see? I did whole universes by myself. Why get any one else in to do constellations or plumb the rain cycle in, it would just mean less profit for me, right?"

"So by the time I was thirty-five or so - oh, not years, obviously, gods don't work in anything that small other than the fiddly fine-tuning once a universe has compiled properly and is running. Where was I? Oh, yes, I almost burnt out by the time I was thirty-five. It took the almost catastrophic failure of a universe to wake me up: I forgot to input the main stellar sequencing before initialising the pumps and we had stars going supernova from old age within minutes of the Word being said. The Word on that one was 'Bang!'. I was trying to be showy to make up for the nervous breakdown I was on the verge of.

"Anyway. After that one very nearly cost me my career, I decided to slow down and take my time, get some of the newer lads to do the dull, complicated bits and focus on craftsmanship. I mean, it's not every universe that has an inhabited planet where the moon is at the exact distance necessary to occlude all but the sun's corona during an eclipse, is it? That took some working out, let me tell you...

"You all right, there, lad? You do seem to have gone a funny colour."

"Hey god?" "Yes, Larry?" "You existed before the universe, right? And supposedly always existed?" "Yes, that's true." "What was infinity like, before you made the universe?" "Ah. Not one human has asked me that before. Well, I guess it's time I tell someone about before the first 7 days."

#humour #drabble

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27spoons · 1 day ago

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yapping yapping to you dudeeee. have you seen how nat treated mari's brat ass (and some of shauna's, too)? i was like: panties? where? *inserts that meme of an emoji with a dangling lingerie* like, the way her care and natural protective instincts kick in, even though others might give two fucks about her 😭😭 my baby, come here, i'll take care of youuuuu imagining a brat!reader making nat's days a living hell, but she can't possibly lash out, so she puts reader into a time-out (house arrest tf), or even brings them their portion of the food into their hut, ending up in nat "teaching reader" how to behave 😇 yuk, an innocent lesson

what if i said i wanted to be put in my place. what then. what if i said i need to piss nat off until she snaps at me, realises that i liked it, and then does it again?

nsfw blurb / smut / gn!afab!reader / porn w some plot / self-indulgent / not proofread we die like the cabin at the end of s2/ wc: 1260

natalie stands outside your shelter, the fresh scent of damp earth and cool spring air brushing past. the spring out here is deceptive—warmer than the cruel winter was but still bitter in the mornings and evenings. the soft hum of insects punctuate the silence that settles in the dim light of the evening.

inside, you restlessly lay on your makeshift bedroll, leg bouncing as you trace the light strips that filter through the gaps in your structure with your eyes. when she finally steps in—carrying a wooden bowl of stew—you glance up with a cocky grin that you already know nat will not like.

"well, well." you drawl, sitting up. "The Queen herself. To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine evening?"

nat doesn't bite. she places the bowl on the tree stump in front of you unceremoniously. "dinner," she says simply, straightening and crossing her arms.

"wow, room service?" you let out a low whistle, leaning back and lacing your fingers behind your head. "i gotta say, i'm kinda liking this whole 'house arrest' thing, you know? the perks are nice." a beat, "actually, is it too much to ask, or could i get some dessert?"

her jaw clenches, but she manages to keep her voice in check. "you seriously think this is funny?"

"i mean... yeah." you shrug. "let's be real, nat. you're supposed to be running this place or whatever, but here you are, babysitting me." you groan and sit back up, "doesn't really scream..." a beat as you feign thought, "fearsome leader, you know?"

nat's eyes narrow, and you swear you can feel the frustration radiating off of her. the distant sounds of the wilderness around you seems to grow at the sudden tension, filling the space between you two. "you really wanna test how far i'll go?"

your grin falters slightly, but you can't deny the subtle rush that builds inside of you at the way her voice lowers. "what are you gonna do? give me another stern talking-to?"

she steps closer, her worn combat boots crunching against the forest floor. she leans down just enough to meet your gaze, her voice shifting to that tone she knows gets you weak. “no. talking doesn’t seem to work with you.”

before you can fire back a retort, she's grabbing your jaw with her right hand and squeezing. "you aren't leaving this hut until i say so, and honestly?" her voice lowers further, "i don't think you deserve to leave after all this shit you've pulled, do you?"

you stare up at her, unsure if you're supposed to be feeling afraid, aroused, or both."uh…" you blink a few times, "wow, nat. you really got the whole… 'scary leader' thing down. i'm shaking in my boots."

a scoff leaves her lips, but she doesn't visibly react further to your sarcasm. "you can joke all you want, yeah? but we both know you'll listen to what i say. because if you don't…" her eyes flash down to your lips for a moment, "well, they don't last very long."

your stomach twists, but not because you're scared. well, maybe a little. but mostly? well, mostly you're just aroused.

and nat knows, if the way she smirks is any indication. "yeah. you know that, don't you?" her voice carries a teasing lilt that does unpleasant (but not unwelcome) things to your insides. "all you really want is to be put in your place." she grips your jaw a little tighter, "open your mouth more."

you do. your lips part on command, and you're rewarded with nat spitting into your mouth slowly. "close. don't swallow." you do as she asks, of course. there's no way she doesn't know you're ruining your underwear right about now.

you swear you haven't taken a breath in a million years as she looks down at you, eyes sharp and calculating. "good. swallow." you comply, maintaining eye contact, then open your mouth to show her that you listen.

nat grins. "look at you. you can listen."

she gives you a firm shove back onto your bedroll and follows you down. "but i think i still need to prove my point."

one of her hands slides underneath the waistband to your pants without hesitation, and it takes everything in her to not make a sound of satisfaction at how wet you are already. "jesus. already?" she manages, the words almost coming out in a whine and breaking this facade of control. "you're fucking soaked."

"can't help it." you reply immediately, already feeling the fight in you leave the second she gets her hands on you, "it's you. you do this to me." you're already clenching around nothing, staring up at nat's form over your body with an expression of pure want. "please."

the girl almost scoffs at how quick you get to begging, considering it usually takes far longer to break you down. "damn. that was fast. you a little desperate?"

"fuck you—" you try and start, but your protests are quickly cut off with a sudden push of her forefinger into your cunt. "oh—"

"that's what i thought." she grins, starting to move her finger without giving you time to get used to the intrusion. "all talk and no game, yeah? not so big once someone actually starts taking charge."

your fingers dig into the soil around your bedroll, knowing better than to grab onto her right now. "that's not fair—"

another finger. "nothing is fucking fair." she bites, leaning down closer to your face, "we're trapped in the middle of goddamn nowhere, and you're talking to me about fair?" a harsh scoff leaves her lips as she begins pumping her fingers faster, "life isn't fucking fair."

you'd make a smart reply to that if you could, but it's sort of hard to do when her fingers are ruthlessly fucking in and out of you, your wetness soaking into the fabric of your underwear. "already so worked up." she tsks, "bet i could give you a third finger right now and you'd—"

she does.

three fingers deep, fingers curling in and out of your pussy with a passion that only nat can possess, you groan and throw your head back.

nat slaps her free hand over your mouth with a hiss, "jesus! do you want them to hear what's going on in here?" her fingers never cease in their actions as her gaze flicks to the entrance for a moment, watching to make sure no one is about to walk in on you two. "shit, i would never hear the end of this…" she murmurs before returning her gaze to you, hardening it slightly. "should have known you wouldn't be able to keep quiet."

she grinds her palm against your clit with every crook of her fingers, and you can barely keep your eyes open at the harsh movements she fucks you with—pain and pleasure blurring together somewhere along the way.

her breath ghosts over your ear as she leans down, and you can feel her smirk. "you're gonna come for me, and when you do, it's gonna happen again." you whine, and she chuckles lowly in response. "and again. until i fucking decide that you've finally understood how to listen to fucking orders."you stare up at her with wide eyes when she pulls her face back slightly, and nat's grin only widens further. "and we both know you have a hard time following orders." her fingers find that one spot, and you swear you see stars—"so i think it's gonna be a long night."

#'blurb' i call it as i write over 1k words #ask #bozotag #yellowjackets spoilers #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio smut #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio smut #ladles (fics/blurbs)#junk drawer (thoughts)

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gunnerfc · 23 hours ago

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Steamy | Alexia Putellas x Reader (18+)

Summary: You and Alexia make use of the empty locker room after a training session

Warnings: smut minors DNI!, shower sex, semi-public? (team locker room shower), fingering (r receiving)

WC: 1.2K

You huffed, trying to catch your breath from the amount of running you had done during training. With a Champion’s League match coming up, training had been more intense to get the team ready. You were thankful that the training staff called it a day and dismissed everyone back to the locker rooms.

“Bebé,” Alexia’s voice interrupted your thoughts of a relaxing, warm shower that would help your sore muscles.

You paused in your tracks, the rest of your teammates continuing their journey to the locker room. “Hmm,” you hummed as you turned to face her.

“Let’s do some one-on-one,” she smiled as she passed you a ball. Part of you wanted to say no, knowing you wouldn’t be the best opponent at the moment. But you sent her a small smile and made your way back onto the training pitch.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you were out there running through various drills, but when you missed an easy shot, you called it for a day. “Alexia,” you panted with your hands on your hips. “I think we should call it.”

“Sí,” the blonde nodded as she mimicked your panting. You let out a breath as you both made your way back to the locker room, your hands grazing each other each time they swung past each other.

By the time you got to the locker room, it was empty. You must have been out there longer than you thought, considering all of your teammates had already showered and left. You were so focused on taking a warm shower that you zoned out, forgetting that Alexia was still also in the room.

The midfielder took her time taking her boots off, waiting for you to enter the showers so she could join you. Alexia waited a moment after hearing the water turn on, giving you time to get the water to the perfect temperature.

You stood with a towel wrapped around your body as the water warmed up, occasionally sticking your hand under to feel the temperature. Once it was warm enough, you hung the towel up and stepped inside. You groaned softly as the warm water hit your skin, your muscles tight from the harsh training you’d done over the past few days. You were too in your head to notice Alexia’s presence as she pulled back the shower curtain.

Her hands slipped around your waist, earning a small gasp from your lips. “You can’t scare me like that,” you whined, your head falling back on her shoulder.

Alexia laughed softly, her lips grazing your earlobe. “Sorry,” she teased as she pulled you closer to her body.

“What are you even doing in here,” the realization of where you were kicked in as you pulled away from her to turn and face her.

“We’re the only two here, bebé,” the blonde smirked, her hands slipping around your waist once more.

You swallowed softly, your chest rising as the water fell over both of you. Neither of you spoke for a moment, too busy taking each other in. After a minute of silence, you pulled Alexia into a desperate kiss.

She easily won control over you, her hands running over any inch of skin she could reach as her lips moved against yours. You moaned into the kiss, your hands locking around her neck as you pressed your body into hers.

Alexia, with her lips still interlocked with yours, guided you back against the shower wall. Your back arched off the cool tile, your chest bumping hers. Alexia bit your bottom lip before pulling away, a sly grin gracing her lips.

“You can be as loud as you are at home,” she mumbled as she leaned into your neck to leave harsh kisses along your neck.

“Ale– please,” you whined as you tilted your head back against the tile. You tried to hold in a moan, still worried someone might enter the shower area. But as Alexia slipped a hand between your parted thighs, the moan fell from your lips loudly.

Alexia smirked against your neck as she left hickies all over your skin. Her hand slowly ran through your folds, teasing you to see how loud you would get. “Please what,” she mumbled as she tightened the hold her arm had on your waist.

You whined at her words, desperate for her to give you what you wanted. “Stop teasing me,” you cried, your hands digging into her shoulders.

Alexia laughed softly but opted to give in, her fingers circled your clit a few times, earning broken moans from your lips. Her fingers slipped back down until they pushed into you, slipping in easily.

Alexia moved her fingers antagonizing slowly, her thumb rubbing small circles on your clit with each thrust of her fingers. “F-fuck, baby,” you whined, much louder this time as the last bit of worry left your body.

The blonde’s fingers sped up as she let go of your waist to hoist your leg around her waist. Her fingers slipped deeper with the new angle, earning a loud string of moans from your lips. “Good, babé,” Alexia asked, despite knowing the answer.

You nodded quickly, your eyes screwed shut as your hips bucked against her hand. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you settled for the nods. You could feel the familiar coil in your lower stomach begin to break as your hips rolled in time with her fingers’ thrusts.

“I’m – fuck – close,” you cried, your nails digging even harder into her shoulder blades. Alexia sped her fingers up, splashing the slightly colder water that was hitting your bodies with each thrust.

“C’mon, mi amor,” Alexia teased as she pulled away from your neck to watch your expression as you came around her fingers. You let out broken moans as you came, your thighs shaking as you did so.

Alexia slowed her fingers down, letting you ride out your orgasm until she pulled them out of you completely. You whimpered from the empty feeling as she moved your leg from around her waist. You stayed leaning against the wall, your legs too shaky for you to stand without support.

“That wasn’t a productive shower,” you mumbled in between breaths. You opened your eyes to see Alexia smirking at you.

“I think it was,” she shrugged, earning an eye roll from you. You both giggled after a moment and stood under the flowing water in silence.

You went to speak, but a third voice from the door of the shower room cut you off. “Time to head home, guys,” the voice called before the door closed.

Your eyes widened in shock hearing the voice which earned you a laugh from Alexia. You stuttered, trying to get a sentence out.

“C’mon, you heard him,” Alexia teased as she turned the water off and opened the shower curtain to wrap a towel around her body.

You felt your skin heat up, worried that a staff member just overheard you as you had an orgasm.

“Are you coming… again,” Alexia joked as she held the towel out for you, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Enough,” you grumbled as you yanked the towel out of her hands to wrap around your body.

Alexia laughed as you stormed past her to head back into the locker room to get dressed. You know the odds of the staff member hearing the whole thing were slim, but that doesn’t mean you weren't thinking about the possibility of him hearing. Alexia spent the rest of the evening teasing you, saying things like he didn’t even need to be in the room to hear with how loud you were. Safe to say she got the silent treatment for the rest of the night.

#woso x reader #woso smut #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas x reader #barca femeni x reader #espwnt x reader

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 days ago

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Just My Type

This one is for @henderdads with her prompt - accidental first kiss. Happy Valentine's Day, Cass! I hope this will bring you some joy!

Steve Harrington wasn't known for sharing his problems with others. He was the one who resolved all your issues, not brought more to the already very overcrowded table. The kids needed some stability, and as much as he loved Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, they weren't exactly fit for that role. The girls would soon leave Hawkins for college (Steve was so proud his heart could burst), and Eddie had his hands full with the whole finishing high school thing while still recovering from being nearly eaten by demobats.

No, Steve had this handled. He was the least fun of the four, but reliable. As far as the kids knew, the only issue Steve had was his inconsistent and ever dramatic love life, nothing else.

When Steve's eyesight started getting worse, likely from all those concussions, he handled it on his own. No need to worry anyone. A secret pair of glasses for home, prescription sunglasses for driving (and yeah, he looked cool in them, despite the kids' grumbling), and that was it. They didn't need to know. Everything was working out just fine. He was great at faking things.

At least until that fateful day. But we’ll get there. First, something about Steve’s love life.

See, Steve was dating around. He had been feeling anxious, unfulfilled, and the more he thought about it, the reason wasn’t Nancy for once. Even stranger, he knew he was over her, but the feeling of needing something and not being able to get it wouldn’t leave. So he got out there, used his charm, and prayed he’d finally find the one.

So far, it wasn’t working out. Most of the girls he went out with were lovely, kind, and gorgeous, but there was always something missing that made him break things off before anyone could get hurt. He had a type - curly or wavy dark hair and even darker eyes, but hey. It wasn’t his fault that Nancy had been the closest to an ideal relationship he’d ever had! That had to be the reason, he thought. Maybe his concussed brain decided that curly hair meant a good girlfriend.

“It’s not like I can help it,” he lamented, pretending not to see Eddie’s amused smirk. They had become good friends after their Upside Down near death experience, and as Dustin never failed to mention with a truckload of disgust, they were now practically inseparable. “Who doesn’t like curly hair? They’re making it this whole thing. I’m over Nancy.”

Eddie snorted and tossed his chemistry textbook somewhere towards the pile of stuff that might have included his desk. “Uh-huh. Sure thing. So this new one-”

“Jenny.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yes. This Jenny. It’s just a coincidence that she’s a dead ringer for Wheeler.” He nudged Steve’s side with his bare foot. “Come on, Harrington. Be honest with your only adult friend.”

Steve kicked him in retaliation. “Wow, rude. I’ll let you know, I have Robin!”

“Buckley is so much more than a mere human, Steven. She doesn’t count, she surpasses our species. Whereas I,” he announced to the broken ceiling fan, “am very human, non-judgmental, and I have seen you go through half a dozen ladies of the same type since the spring break. So?”

Laughing, Steve kicked him again. “So nothing. She doesn’t look like Nancy. Hell, she looks more like you - her hair is darker, more wavy, and she has those really pretty dark eyes. And she’s tall. Are you saying you’re my type too?”

Eddie rolled over and batted his eyelashes. “I don’t know, Steve, am I?”

Steve hit him with a pillow in the face. If he hadn’t been so busy laughing, he might have just noticed the tinge of longing in Eddie’s voice.

To recap: the two things that led to the most important day of Steve’s life were a) his tendency to date a certain visual type of girl; b) his unwillingness to admit to anyone that he needed glasses.

Here’s what happened.

Steve, being both a good friend and a good boyfriend, took Jenny to see Eddie perform with the Corroded Coffin. Was metal his favorite music genre? Not really, but he wanted to support Eddie, and Jenny didn’t seem to mind, she even agreed to wear a Corroded Coffin t-shirt from Steve’s wardrobe.

Steve found himself enjoying the concert way more than he’d expected. The alcohol helped, sure, but it was so heartwarming to see Eddie in his element, scarred, but still the same. Steve had even learned to recognize the lyrics within all the noise, and even if he wasn’t ready to discuss that with Eddie yet, Steve considered them surprisingly deep. He really hoped Eddie would make it big, he was a wonderful guy, and life owed him big time.

After the concert, Jenny excused herself to the bathroom, and Steve went to grab some beers. His head was pleasantly buzzing, and even though his eyesight was more blurry than usual, he found his way through the crowd with ease.

He put down both beers and wrapped his arm around Jenny’s waist. He’d lost track of time at the bar, she must have come back in the meantime. And so, as they tended to do, he touched her cheek and turned her face into a quick kiss.

Steve noticed several things at once.

First, stunned gasps from the Corroded Coffin members, along with Robin’s snickering.

Second, Jenny’s cheek felt different. Almost stubbly?

Third, it was the best damn kiss he’d ever had.

And fourth, before the kiss could end, he felt something wet - the beer he’d just brought - hit his head and back, along with an angry shriek.

What happened next was a blur, and not just because he had trouble seeing it. He was vaguely aware of a second Jenny hitting him with her purse and storming off, Robin trying to control her laughter, and the person next to him, also drenched in beer? That was Eddie.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry!” Steve instinctively grabbed napkins and started drying off the beer in Eddie’s hair, on his jacket. “I...OK, not the best time to tell you, but I’ve noticed I can’t see shit, and normally I wear glasses, but I couldn’t take them with me because I look like a baby accountant or something, and I didn’t want you guys to worry. And uh, you probably know, but your hair looks kinda like Jenny’s, and I’m really sorry I did that without asking.”

Eddie was motionless, letting Steve fret over him. He was just staring into the distance, cogs turning in his brain.

Robin, bless her heart, re-directed the Corroded Coffin guys to grab a mop and a dry t-shirt from Eddie’s van for both Steve and Eddie. After that, she started ushering the unlucky pair towards men’s bathrooms, to “wash off that smell before it’s too late.” She snapped her fingers in front of Eddie’s eyes, getting him to move.

As she shoved both of them towards the sink, she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him close. “Since you are freshly broken up, I would strongly suggest you think hard and fast about why you made that mistake, Steve. I can’t spell it out for you, even if it would be easier for everyone involved.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah, uh...I think I might know.”

“Might?”

“I definitely know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m so dumb. That...even if I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t fair to Jenny. Or the ones before.”

Robin smiled at him and, not unkindly, patted his shoulder. “They’ll get over it. In the meantime, your man looks like he’s about to faint. Don’t mess this up, OK? I couldn’t stand to see you brooding again and going through another set of Eddie substitutes.”

After she closed the door behind Steve, she grabbed the mop and started cleaning the mess. She could say it would cost Steve a lifetime of driving her around, but she knew he’d do that anyway.

In the bathroom, Eddie was slowly finding his words. “You...you kissed me.”

Steve took a step towards Eddie, trying not to spook him. “Yeah. I know it sounds like bullshit,” he said, pushing down the bitter memories of that word, “but I really mistook you for Jenny. I can’t see much, especially when it’s dark. I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

He couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice didn’t sound fine. The music from the club drowned out most of the quieter sounds, but Steve could swear he heard a sniffle. “Of course,” whispered Eddie and he seemed so sad. Steve wanted to punch his own face. “Of course it was a mistake.”

Eddie straightened his back and wiped at his eyes before turning towards Steve. “Don’t worry, Steve. It happens. I mean, you should feel more sorry for yourself, you’re single again, and if Jenny or anyone from the club talks, they’ll think you’re a-”

“I don’t care.”

With a bitter chuckle, Eddie shook his head. “You don’t get it, Steve. You have a reputation to protect. Our lovely and pious citizens of Hawkins expect something like that from me, they know I’m...wrong. But you? You’re the golden boy. Steve, you should think about what this will do to you.” He wasn’t looking at Steve, his eyes were glued to the floor. Steve didn’t need a hint to know why Eddie was blinking so rapidly, why he sounded so strained.

He reached out and grasped Eddie’s hands. “Eddie. I really don’t care. I won’t feel sorry for what someone might think. The only reason I’m sorry is that I kissed you without you agreeing to it, in front of people, because...” He took a deep breath and squeezed Eddie’s hands. “...because I wanted our first kiss to be something special. Not a case of a mistaken identity caused by my shitty eyesight. And I wish I could have done it differently, that we wouldn’t be in this dirty bathroom, and sticky and disgusting from that beer. But even if I’m sorry for not asking you, I’m also glad. Because it made me realize something really important.”

Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, still wet with tears, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. A hint of hope. “And what is that?” he asked.

Steve moved several wet strands of Eddie’s hair from his face. He looked just a little bit like a wet rat, but to Steve, he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t wait to bury his hands in Eddie’s hair properly, when it was freshly washed. Maybe smelling of Steve’s shampoo. That was a thought.

He stroked Eddie’s cheek and for the first time in so long, he felt puzzle pieces falling in place. This was right.

“I realized that I didn’t answer you when you asked me,” he smiled and pulled Eddie closer. “You, Eddie Munson, are exactly my type.”

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie fanfiction #valentine's day exchange

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acexsmhking · 2 days ago

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haii this is my first time requesting so idk how to do ts but… ticci toby x fem reader getting high and FREAKY the only specific freaky thing i wanna req is reader dry humping tobys thigh.. 😣😣😣

𝐄𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚

(𝗻.) 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴; 𝗮 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Toby x FEM!Reader, V-Day Special

Summary: the day had been utterly perfect with Toby spoiling you the whole day. Coming back home you both decided to relax and just hang out until a certain someone got needy

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, oral (M! Received), brief choking, mentions of blood, dry jumping, fingering, degrading praise, excessive drooling, biting kink, use of edibles

Toby had spent the whole day on you, preparing a lovely picnic for you both at a cute spot he found.. during work. You’d been ecstatic seeing the cheesy scene, butterflies fluttering in your tummy with a warmth washing over your face. The day had been absolutely perfect, spent over delicious food in each other presence. Heading back home, Toby had surprised you with some new edibles. You both you sat cuddled on the couch as you let them kick in.

Sweet kisses and words slowly morphed into something more desperate. Heat growing between the two of you as the effects started taking place. Certain parts of you becoming more sensitive, Toby’s wandering hands playful tickling your sides as you sat on his lap. Both of you so caught up with light conversation and jumbled jokes that distracted you both. You shifted on Toby’s lap, he lazily smiled at you as his hands rubbed up and down your exposed legs. Your fingers fiddled with the ends of his braid you’d given him earlier. The throb in your clit becoming worse everytime you glanced at him.

His eyes so loving and attentive as he stared at you, the hooded look of his eyes only making you flush more. Especially as his hands helped you, encouraging you to thrust against his thighs. You tried keeping your train of thought however his thigh bumping up, causing firm pressure to your clit. Your words becoming more and more slurred, mind absolutely hazed. You fumbled over your words, hands tightly gripping Toby’s shirt as desperation settled in your thrusts.

Your rhythm uncoordinated, that knot in your stomach you wanted so badly to grow. “Wh-at’s wrong baby? Keep talking to me sweetie.” He snickered, pushing his knee up just a bit to tease you. You whimpered, trying to move your hips against the strength of his grip. Your hand wandering down the bulge of his pants. The thin material of the pajamas barely offering any protection from your desperate hands.

Toby groaned, his hands sneaking under the band of your shorts to grip your ass. You moaned, arching your back to bump your clit against the muscle of his thigh. One hand wandering to press against your hole, each thrust of your hips helping slip his finger in deeper. Toby’s shirt had become drenched in drool, too hazed and too focused on you to even try and control it. His fingered curled as you fucked yourself back on it, another one soon slipping in. Your thrusts becoming more erratic as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten.

The effects of the edibles coming in full swing, perhaps a bit too strong. That brand might be a bit too good.. Toby snickered at the soft moans from your lips, pressing fluttery kisses to your throat. “Meine sü-ße Hure, wird sie nur von meinen Fingern ganz na-ass?” He murmured, teeth biting the lobe of your ear. You nodded, fucking back further against his fingers, juices making a mess of your underwear. He hummed, pulling his hands from your shorts. Toby was quick to lay you out on the couch, yanking your shorts down while you shuffled out of your shirt. Fingers hooking on the hem of his pants before pulling them down. Your clit tingled and legs rubbed together as you looked at him. Your hands firmly grasping him as you greedily stuffed him into your mouth.

Toby lazily stumbled in surprise at your greed, before his hand making quick work to grab your neck. His head leaned back, hand not so gentle as he pushes you down on him. Your nails dug into his hips pulling him closer before your arms wrapped around his waist. A gag choked out of you as he pushed you down onto his cock. His pace was ruthless as he fucks into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. His eyes glossy with a pink hue, clearly enjoying himself. A crude smirk on his lips as he watched tears brim in your eyes.

“So eine verda-ammte Schlampe. Ich sollte dich öfter mit mir high werden la-ssen.” His voice was husky, hips haphazardly thrusting into you with no care. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked up at him. Hole fluttery, desperately holding onto him to keep him in your mouth. You hadn’t even an idea why you were so needy, but his cock felt wonderful in your mouth. His bush becoming wet from your slobber. His own slobber dropped down his jaw, some getting onto you and some on his abdomen. Gaze distracted as you watched his muscles flex and tighten. A new rush of need running down your spine straight to your core.

Toby whined as he tried pulling you off, as much as he adored this. He needed to be inside you. But you stayed glued to him, nails digging into the fat of his hips. “Du kleiner Narr-Narr. Komm schon Baby, wie soll ich dich sonst ficken?” His voice wobbly as he tried holding back moans, but god did you feel good. You whined, the vibrations making him curse. His fingers pressed your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he pulled out. You gasped, sucking in air greedily before trying to reach for his cock again. He quickly landed a harsh slap on your cunt, a loud yelp coming from your mouth. Your legs snapping shut as you jumped away.

“Toby!” A strangled cry ringing in the room as Toby roughly yanked you back towards him. Fitting himself between your legs as he folded your legs to your head. “That’s what you get for being a brat.” He grunted, sinking into you not even waiting for you as he started pounding into you. Cock bullying its way into your cunt, as your hands tried pushing him away. “Next time you’ll rem-ember to listen to me.” He growled, hand grabbing your neck as he leaned down to you. Your nails clawed his chest, a mix of trying to pull him in and push him away.

The stimulation almost too much to bear, yet something you craved so badly. His thrusts were brutal as he snapped his hips into yours, the oddly weird angle on the couch making him feel even deeper. Caged so securely by him, the scent of sex and him completely rattling your brain. His drool long now covering your face, some even getting into your mouth. Which was no problem to you. You happily swallowed whatever landed in your mouth, reaching up to capture his lips as that coil formed.

Your teeth clashed and clanked in the heated kiss, his tongue practically shoved to the back of your throat. Your arm wrapping around from under his arm as you pulled him closer. Your lips peppering kisses on his shoulders. “Lo-oh-ve you so’s much baby.” You cooed, eyes rolling back after a particularly delicious thrust, his tip abusing that perfect spot in your hole. Your lips latched onto his chest, hickeys and bite marks forming on the broad surface.

Toby could feel himself getting closer and closer, the high making his skin feel tingly. Your kisses not helping in the slightest. You felt so good, and smelled so good. Your earlier fragrance now tainted with the smell of sex, a curse leaving his lips. “Lamb.. fuh-eels too good!” He panted, a wet mess forming between the two of you. A pearly white essence forming around the base of his cock. Translucent strings from your wetness attaching between the two of you. You whined, cunt answering for you as it fluttered around him.

His jaw clamped down on that firm pipe in your throat, perhaps a bit too hard. The sudden suffocation pushing your body over the edge. Nails dragging into his skin, light pebbles of blood trailing his back as you convulsed. Orgasm washing over you hard and heavy, your senses filled with Toby’s smell. You could feel him unload into you, hot and sticky. It only made you feel that much turned on, cunt clamped around him. Toby effortlessly talked you through it, rolling his hips slowly to help bring you down.

“Das ist es, mein süßes Mädchen.” His hips gradually slowed to a stop. Both of you sharing sweet kisses before he press one last wet one on your cheek. You giggled, playfully shoving him away. He helped you stand, an.. evident wobble in your legs as you insisted on stretching them. “Great time babe.. but gosh does that thing make your legs stiffen.” You joked, leaning against him as you tried walking up the stairs. “No kidding, walking like a grandma right now.” He giggled, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other one holding a shaky hand. “Oh fuck this, just carry me.” You huffed, letting him pick you up and help you to the top of the stairs.

“Happy Valentines, Lamb.”

: ̗̀➛ OH MY GOD. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY MY BABIES. OUR FIRST HOLIDAY TOGETHER ON THIS BLOG. I felt like this would be a perfect ask to celebrate the day. Thank you so much, Anon for you contribute! Happy holidays, remember to stay safe! — Ace

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby #creepypasta #toby rogers

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sissylittlefeather · 2 days ago

Text

If You Talk In Your Sleep

Chapter 4

A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long! Work has been a STRUGGLE lately. But I managed to get this one out and I'm lowkey obsessed with it. I hope you love it!

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, this is definitely for adults only, there's lots of smut (blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie) but also DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. Elvis is not violent, but reader's husband is.

Word count: ~3k

It hangs there for a second like smoke before you whisper your response.

“I'm in love with you too.”

******

After the night at the Palomino Club, your life becomes a series of stolen hours with Elvis separated by the daunting reality of your life with Carl. You know Carl can't find out what you're up to, but you're so happy with Elvis that it's hard to care if he does. A fantasy of telling him and him letting you go easily consumes you every time you're forced to be around him. Still, the risk that he'd kill Elvis is still too great for you to take that chance. Instead, you sneak away as often as you can and spend your nights wrapped in satin sheets and Elvis's arms.

He doesn't go home to Priscilla, despite her constant begging and the Colonel’s insistence. They know he's probably messing around, it wouldn't be the first time, but they never dream he's in as deep as he is with you. And he is in deep. Every stolen night with you only pulls him deeper, the rest of the world fading into something distant and unimportant. He’s known love before, or at least he thought he had, but nothing has ever gripped him like this. Nothing has ever felt quite so undeniable.

A little over a month has gone by when Carl tells you that he has to go visit the bosses back East for the weekend. You're surprised he's not making you come with him, but he seems to have gotten over his suspicion. When it dawns on you that this means you'll have a whole weekend to spend with Elvis, you have to try to hide your excitement.

“I'll call to check on you every evening around 5. Make sure you're home.” If the right person said it, it might be sweet. But coming from Carl it sounds like a threat.

“I will be. It's not like I really have anywhere to go.” You're laying it on a little thick, but you want to make sure he doesn't suspect anything. In truth, your insides are positively buzzing with giddiness. He grunts and then kisses your cheek before disappearing through the door.

You wait an hour to make sure he's really gone before throwing some clothes and toiletries in a bag and heading over to Elvis's hotel. He doesn't know you have the whole weekend to spend with him, you wanted to surprise him, so you hope he'll be pleased.

When you get to his door, you knock and wait, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. He opens it and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Hey doll. Missed you.” He wraps his arms around you and kisses your forehead as you melt against him. “What's in the bag?”

“My stuff.” You try to contain your excitement and fail miserably.

“Stuff for what?” He raises an eyebrow mischievously.

“Carl’s out of town. You mind if I stick around for the weekend?” You giggle as he brightens almost instantly and picks you up, spinning you around.

“A whole weekend?!” He laughs and carries you inside, kicking the door closed behind him. You giggle as he plops your feet on the floor and then takes your bag, tossing it to the side. Without any kind of warning, he wraps his arms around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal with delight as he takes you straight to the bedroom. The sound echoes off the walls and gets caught in the thick carpet while he drops you on the giant bed. He growls as he climbs up your body and presses himself against you. “We're gonna be in this bed for hours, little girl.”

You run your fingertips down the side of his face gently and kiss the end of his nose, whispering. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Something about the way you look at him makes a lump form in his throat and the thought that he wants you forever, just like this, is almost overwhelming. He carefully presses his lips to your cheek, and then the other one, your forehead, eyes, chin, and finally your lips. He'll never have enough of you, but he intends to try this weekend.

You revel in the feeling of his soft kisses on your face, your hand drifting up to the nape of his neck and tangling in his hair. What wouldn't you give to have him like this all the time: slow and gentle and so full of love that it feels like you might burst. His lips continue their journey down your jawline to your neck and he sucks on the skin there gently.

“I'm gonna leave a mark.” He says it playfully, nipping at you with his teeth.

“Fine by me. It'll be gone before Carl gets home anyway.” You moan as you feel him suck a little harder. Then, he pulls back to admire his handiwork.

“I'm glad you're okay with it because I definitely did.” He chuckles and kisses the spot softly, whispering. “Mine.”

“Yours.” He backs away and looks into your eyes.

“You mean it?” You nod, never breaking eye contact.

“Always.” And then his lips are on yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he rolls his hips against you. You whimper with the intensity of the kiss, your blood beginning to rush in your ears while your fingers make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He shrugs out of it, letting you throw it to the side as he runs both hands up your thighs under the hem of your dress. The cotton bunches around your waist before he sits you up and yanks it over your head, diving back in to kiss you deeply. You can feel his chest hair tickling you, the cold metal of his belt buckle on your tummy making you shiver. Your breath hitches when you feel his member where it strains against the fabric of his pants. He whimpers as you run your hand up his shaft and squeeze a little. You put your other hand in the middle of his chest and push gently. “Get on your back, baby.”

He looks at you a little surprised, but complies nonetheless, settling onto his back with you straddling his hips. You run your hands up his body and then lean forward, pressing your lips to his skin. He groans as you run your tongue around his nipple and then move to the other one, nibbling gently. Your fingertips roam over parts of him you've never noticed before: the indentions on his shoulders, the way his hips curve down into his pants, the little trail of hair that starts at his belly button and continues south to the part of him you really want to see. You lift yourself off of him and back up, undoing his pants and hooking your fingers into them to pull them off. He looks down at you with his mouth open a little, not used to being treated with such care. You kiss up his thigh to the top of the patch of hair between his legs, his cock bumping into your chin as it twitches.

“Fuck, honey.” Your hands move down his torso to his hips and then back around to his ass, squeezing softly. You kiss his inner thigh again and then look up at him, a cheeky little smile on your face.

“What?” You coo, moving over to the other thigh as your hands massage his ass cheeks.

“Nobody’s ever… fuck… why?” You move down and kiss his balls and he gasps.

“Because you deserve it.” He whimpers as you lick up his shaft. “You deserve to be worshipped, adored, revered.”

“No… I don't…” The words get caught in his throat and he looks at you with more vulnerability than he's ever shown another person. You sit up a little and look at him.

“Yes. You do. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.” He lets out a sound somewhere between a strangled sob and a deep moan as you lean forward and take him fully into your mouth. The way you move up and down on him is more than sex, it's an act of devotion. His heart pounds in his chest and his fingers tangle in your hair, not as a show of dominance, but as a demonstration of his affection for you. He's never felt so connected to another person.

You lick and suck and pull him deep into your throat, pressing your nose into the hair at the base of him. Every ounce of love in your heart is evident in the way you take care of him, giving him more pleasure than he's ever experienced. He looks down at you, your eyelashes fanning over your cheeks as you close your eyes in reverence. It's an image he'll never forget.

“Love, I don't want to… finish… like this.” All of a sudden the other words seem so crude. He strokes your cheek lovingly as your eyes flutter open. “C'mere.”

You move back up his body and he lays you down next to him, holding the side of your neck as he looks at you. He carefully removes your bra and panties and drags his fingertips over your skin.

“The way I love you… it's so… much more, much deeper, than anything…” He shakes his head, trying to find the words. “I’ve been lost for my whole life. You found me and brought me home.”

He presses his lips to yours softly and pulls your leg over his hip, lining his cock up with your entrance. “I never wanna be anywhere else.”

You gasp as he pushes into you slowly, his hips rolling forward to meet yours. Words are unnecessary as he begins to pump into you, holding your hip to steady you. No phrase would be enough to convey the depth of your feelings for him, so instead you press your forehead to his and close your eyes while he makes love to you. You revel in the beautiful simplicity of being connected to him so intimately. Both of you get lost in the sensation, the reality of where he ends and you begin fading into a symphony of mutual being. You are the universe, complex and overwhelming and breathtaking all at once.

He pulls you even closer, holding on like he's afraid if he lets go you'll disappear into a dream. But it's not a dream. The two of you are real and as the pleasure builds between you, the sound of your breath mixes with skin against skin.

“Oh, God, Elvis.” You moan in his ear and he hums in agreement.

“Gonna cum soon, doll.” He says it almost regretfully because he doesn't want the moment to end. He'd hold you against him like this forever if he could.

“Me… too…” You sigh breathlessly as you dance on the edge of ecstasy.

And then you both reach the peak of your pleasure at the same time. Your body shudders and pulses as he twitches and releases deep inside you. When he finally lets go of you, you look up at him with tears in your eyes and he pulls your fingers to his lips, kissing them affectionately.

“You're the love of my life, Elvis.” You whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek. He brushes it away with his thumb and smiles.

“And you're mine.”

It should be a moment of pure contentment, but it's not. Reality hangs over both of you like a heavy cloud. There's a storm on the horizon, but for now you choose to ignore it. You'll worry about that tomorrow.

******

You spend the next hour or so in the bed just talking and laughing and touching each other in a way you've never been able to before. Then, you settle into a bath together where you make love again with the warm water making tiny waves that crest and break against your bodies. When you finally settle in to sleep, the sun is creeping up on the horizon, but you think nothing of it, knowing that you have all the time in the world tomorrow.

The next day is spent in a haze of bliss. You order room service and spend all day in bed, making love two more times.

Finally, it approaches 5pm and you know you have to run home to talk to Carl when he calls. At the door, Elvis kisses you deeply, trying to convince himself that you'll be back in about an hour. But there's a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he just can't ignore. You feel it too, but you're convinced it's just nervousness about talking to Carl, so you make your way home without concern.

When you get home, you slide your key into the door and then freeze.

It's unlocked.

All of a sudden it feels like someone has filled your veins with ice water and you try to tell yourself that you just forgot to lock the door. But you didn't. For a second, you consider just leaving and going back to Elvis forever. You know that's impossible, though, so you prepare yourself to lie and push the door open.

Sure enough, there sits Carl. His gun is on the table and you try to get a handle on your heart that's beating like a rabbit’s. You decide to take the offensive and try to throw him off.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Chicago.” You try to say it with confidence, challenging him to contradict you.

“Got an interesting call from Marco.” Your heart stops. Of course he would have men watching you. But you're not ready to roll over just yet.

“Yeah? And? I went out with–”

“I called Holly. She's been in Los Angeles for a year now.” More ice in your veins. You try desperately to think of another person you could've been with, your heart racing and your head getting light. For a second you feel like you might pass out, so you grab the back of a chair and Carl stands up, walking to you to steady you.

And then he sees it.

There, on your neck, the hickey that Elvis left, confident that it would never be seen.

Carl doesn't hesitate. He backhands you across the face hard and you stumble backwards.

“YOU FUCKING WHORE. I KNEW IT.” He hits you again and you hit the floor. The blinding pain rushes through you from your cheek to the rest of your body and back again. You lay there still and pray he's finished.

But he's not.

He drags you up and slams you against the wall with his hand around your throat. You whimper and claw at his hand as he chokes you.

“WHO IS IT?!” But you wouldn't tell him even if you could get a word out. You'd rather die than give him reason to hurt Elvis. When you don't speak, he slams you up against the wall again. “Fucking bitch.”

He squeezes your throat even tighter and you start to see stars. Just as you think you're going to pass out, he carries you to the front door and drops you on the floor in the hallway. You try to stand up and he hits you one last time. That's all it takes for you to drop to the ground and not get back up.

******

You wake up to someone carrying you and immediately panic.

“Woah! Woah, shhh, honey, you're okay.” For a second you think it might be Elvis, so you stop struggling and open the eye that's not swollen shut. But it's not Elvis. It's Jerry.

“What’re you doing? Carl will kill you!” You wriggle and fight to get free, but he's stronger than you expected.

“Carl left you for dead. That's a risk I'm willing to take.” He carefully puts you in the front seat of a car and then runs around to the driver's side.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The hospital. I'm under strict orders to make sure you're okay.” You scoff and try to get out of the car, but he's already driving.

“I don't need a hospital.” He looks at you for a second and then just flips the visor down, opening the mirror for you to see yourself. You gasp at the image. Your eye is red and purple, the bruise spreading down your cheek, and there are dark marks around your neck where he choked you.

“If I take you to Elvis like this and don't stop at a hospital, he'll kill me before he kills Carl.” You shake your head, the image of Carl’s gun on the table floating in front of your good eye.

“Elvis can't see me like this.”

“You're not thinking clearly. Of course–”

“No. Jerry, you have to promise to take me home after the emergency room. If I'm not okay, you can tell Elvis, but if I am, he never needs to know about this. Got it?” Jerry purses his lips, obviously contemplating your request.

“Not sure I can do that.”

“Do you want Elvis to die? Is that what you want? Because that's what'll happen if you tell him.” He sighs deeply and runs his hand in his hair.

“Emergency room. If it's bad, I'm tellin’ him.”

“Deal.”

You ride in silence the rest of the way to the hospital. It takes a while for you to get back to an exam room and be looked at. A police officer takes Jerry, who says over and again that he didn't do this to you and he's not your boyfriend. He insists that he's just a friend who found you like this and is trying to do the right thing. Eventually, they decide that he must be telling the truth and let him come back to you. He walks in with a nurse who looks at him nervously.

“Miss. I have some… results…” You assume she must be talking about the concussion test they did and nod your head.

“Yeah? And?” She bites her lip and looks anxiously at Jerry again. You look over at him and back at her and your stomach turns over. “You can just say it. He's a friend.” She takes a steadying breath and nods. Then, she opens her mouth and utters a phrase that changes the course of your life forever.

“Did you know you're pregnant?”

******

Ahhhhhhh!!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy @angelriley222 @iloveelvis2

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #Spotify

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beannary · 2 days ago

Note

I regret to inform you of some bad news:

I keep my TLP Donnie keychain on a bag I take to work and keep with me all day. One of my coworkers, an older/elderly lady, takes a closer look at it and shares with me her opinion (for context, she means extremely well, but is very oblivious and not the sharpest crayon in the box): "Oh, I like your little guy on here, he reminds me of the Hamburgler!" I proceed to squawk my laughter out and she clarifies: "I know he's playing a violin or viola, but look here!" She points to the hand holding the bow, "It kinda looks like he's holding a hamburger. :D"

I love her dearly, but HOLY SHIT how could she be so wrong. I have no earthly idea how she came to that conclusion, I am BAFFLED.

I thought you might get a kick out of this story, I was figuratively laughing on the floor for several minutes afterwards (I.e. the classic Family Guy pose and/or the BBQ sauce on my tiddies vine girl.) On behalf of myself and my coworker, I am so sorry, Donnie, I can't believe someone would just say that about you! You look darling and I wouldn't have it any other way! 🐢

PRINCE REMINDED HER OF HIM????

HIM?????????????????????????????????????????

im never going to emotionally recover from this

#bean babbles #answered asks #hermeysdentalequipment #im actually so relieved its just this #when i saw this ask i was so worried i thought something was wrong with your keychain #and i was like oh no i dont have any more so i cant send you a replacement #and then i got hit by 10000 points of psychic damage

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ponyosfrogg · 5 hours ago

Text

Blood and Silk

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Assassin! Reader

Summary: Once he was your everything, now he's just a reminder of what they did to you. Can both of you move on from your past to form an alliance?

AN: Hello! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) Here's the first chapter of my new series. The next two chapters are gonna be longer (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ Lmk what you think abt it! 💘 Btw i didn't proofread this whole thing like at all!! 🥹🙏🏻

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┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦

★⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚★

The night was dark and the sound of footsteps echoing across Gotham's skyscraper rooftops was nothing out of the ordinary. At this point it can even be said that it was calming and reassuring for those civilians.

It couldn't be said that it was an open night. Damian couldn't even see the stars because of the dark clouds gathering around. Gloomy Gotham weather was the only thing that didn't change since the beginning of the time, besides the vigilantes who are fighting to correct some of the corrupted justice system. So like we said it was an ordinary night.

But it wasn't for Damian, not entirely.

His grip on his batarang got tighter while he was standing on top of a gorgoyle statue, watching over his city. It all started a few days back, he felt like he was being followed by someone, something. At first he thought it was because of his paranoia after all he was trained to be an assassin long time ago. The first thing they had taught him was to be careful. He could still hear his mentor's words in his mind. 'Never let your guard down. If you think something is happening that means it is happening.' So he, now, had a reason to believe someone was following him.

It wasn't just happening during the patrol, he could feel the same familiar eyes watching over him in everything he does. When he's at the manor, when he's at the wayne enterprises even when he is out with his friends. He couldn't see someone which meant that they were too skilled to be seen yet too persistent to go unnoticed. He was getting tired of this cat and mouse game. After all he was always the cat never the mouse.

He turned around and jumped over to the rooftop while he grabbed his other batarang as well. He looked around once again and started to yell in annoyance. "Enough with the hiding." His voice was quite steady despite his irritation and annoyance. "Show yourself."

Silence.

There was only the sound of the busy city that was filling his ears, then—

A dagger sliced through the air. Damian barely had time to dodge it even though he moved quickly. He could sense the warm liquid on top of his ear.

Fuck. That dagger had slightly cut him.

He could feel his anger building up. He threw his batarang over the direction that dagger came out but he lost his precious moments already when he stopped for his ear, his hunter was already gone. It was quick.

He sensed a movement behind him and turned around just to see someone coming out of the darkness. That figure was lean yet strong. If he hadn't sense that figure he wouldn't hear them coming by because that figure was silent, precise and deadly. League-trained.

"You made a mistake!" He almost growled, lunging forward. But they were faster, much faster.

If he hadn't met with 'The Flash' he could've thought that this person might be him. It seemed like they have been training since birth because none of the assassins he had a chance to meet were this fast. He knew that if he used what he learned in the league of assassins he might lose because it had been such a long time and he was out of practice. He also knew that what his father thought him might be not useful at all too, since they were completely opposites. But he didn't have time to reconsider his method of attack, he had to be fast.

The first touch was brutal. Their hand came near to his face almost cutting his face. He dodged that as well but got kicked on his stomach while doing so.

Their movements were calculated, effortless; it was almost like they had been studying him for years. Every attack Damian threw was countered with such an elegant and easy way. It almost seemed like they were playing, not fighting. They weren't attacking him, no. They were just easily defending. It was not a physical fight, it was a mental one. to make him doubt himself, showing him that there are enemies who can kill him without even trying. Every strike met with a dodge at the last possible second. When he realized he lost both of his batarangs, he immediately fell off to the ground. That second cost him his balance because they threw a strong kick on his stomach, again.

He felt some heaviness on his stomach and when he raised his head he saw the dagger that was pressed against his neck.

That was the first time in years he saw his reflection on someone else's steel. He wondered why he wasn't dead already but a sudden realization struck him like lightning. This wasn't an assassination, this was personal.

"Take off the mask" He demanded even though he knew he wasn't in a position to make demands. His voice was low and sharp. He needed to see.

You grabbed the red silk scarf that was covering your face and took it out effortlessly while your other hand took off your hoodie, releasing the hair it has been holding.

Damian's blood ran cold, he could feel the lump on his stomach. His eyes darkened with anger once again.

"You..." The words caught on his throat.

He didn't expect this even a little bit. You were the girl that filled every childhood memory of his with happiness, you were the girl that he had to marry after he took over the league, you were the girl that he had a crush on for a fucking lifetime, you were the girl that stole his heart, his body, his mind and his soul. After moving in with his father he thought about you every fucking day then when he goes to the sleep he would have dreams about you. He wrote you many letters, about his new life here, about how you would love the taste of the milkshake and fries, how you would love his older brother Jason who was a total psycho, how you would make fun of him when he attends one of the galas that Bruce was holding, with a suit and a tie. He wrote them just to never send them to you. He had buried this memory, your memory somewhere inside of a vault that was locked down forever in his mind after some time. At some point since you didn't come after him he was sure that you died but deep in his heart, he knew when he was all alone in that big bedroom of his, he abandoned you.

"You..." You repeated, voice sharp as the dagger you were holding close to his neck. Your eyes seemed colder, brutal and unforgiving. Looking at him with a despise and disgust.

But what cut deepest was not the hate that you hold for him in your eyes, no. It was what you chose to call him.

It wasn't Damian, it wasn't Wayne. Hell it wasn't even stupid nicknames that his brothers were giving him although he mentioned multiple times he hated nicknames.

"Did you miss me heir of the Al Ghul?"

His jaw tightened. The weight of his past slammed into him all at once. He should have known it was coming, you were coming.

Damian grunted as you pressed your weight a little bit more on him. Pinning him onto the ground. He felt like he couldn't move, even though he could easily switch your positions by putting his legs around your body. He knew that you didn't secure your position on him just for him to try it. He knew that you were toying with him. The cold, sharp steel of your dagger was still pressing on his throat but that wasn't what made his heart race—it was the familiarity of your presence, your touch and your smell. You being this close to him made him remember when two of you were sparring together. When both of you were just kids who fell in love. He quickly tried to send that thought away and was able to do that because you just gave him something different to think about when you leaned over more, almost laying on top of him. Without breaking the eye contact, you slowly reached over for the weapons that he hid around his body. One of them was near his knee, the other one was on his belt and the third one was on his back. One by one you unarmed him without even looking at the placements. It almost felt like you were the one who put those weapons around his body, not him.

You could sense the power you have over him but you knew that he was like this because he was in shock. Once he pulled himself back together and realized he's the one that holds power over you he would probably turn your life into hell, yet that was what you were hoping for deep in your heart.

You threw away every weapon of his on the other side of the roof while you pulled your other hand from his neck and put your dagger into its leather placement around your upper thigh.

Damian's chest rose with every movement you've made. He knew that if you stayed in this position a little bit his body might do something to make his attraction towards you obvious by betraying him. He took a breath.

"You done?" He muttered while he rolled his eyes. "Because I've got better things to do than lie on the ground while you rearrange every weapon on your and my body."

God, he didn't even lose a little bit of his snarky sense of speech. He was still as cocky as ever. You rolled your eyes as you got up from his body and crossed your arms on your chest.

"You're in no position to tell me what to do dickhead, you're no longer my heir nor my prince." He gritted his teeth. You've insulted him three times just within a sentence. It was refreshing for him to see someone, beside his family, insulting him and that made him feel in discomfort. He shifted his position and crossed his arms like you did.

"What do you want then Kitten. I'm sure you're not here to say hi to your old lover." And there he was, he somehow managed to deal with his shock and now he was making you angry. You've lost your upper hand and you knew that. Actually you knew you'd lost it when you first fell in love with him back then.

"Don't get so cocky now dear, I don't think the term lover fits for someone who abandoned the other person don't you think?" You smirked like you felt nothing while saying those words but it cut you deeper than it cut him, accepting the fact for once out loud. "I think what you call those people is a traitor." Damian's eyes got darkened as he clenched his teeth. He hated this attitude of yours. He didn't let his guilt arise instead he just scoffed like you've said the funniest thing ever. "Why are you really here?"

You hated that you had to open up this dickhead so stress and panic took over your body as you paced towards the edge of the rooftop. You jumped over the protective wall and sat while you stared at the city lights. Gotham was beautiful, you could understand why he never came back for you. You needed to gather your thoughts for a bit. He was Damian, you knew that even he had broken his promise before you could trust him yet something inside of you more like some part of you was leaving you hesitated. You didn't even realize he sat right beside you.

"I've left the league, almost a year ago." You said to him almost whispering. You knew that he heard you because his eyes turned over to look at you. He was shocked and caught off guard. "You already know that I was trained to rule beside you even after you've left they kept training me. First I thought they were preparing me for another heir but I knew that beside you there wasn't anyone in line." You could feel your eyes tear up but you quickly hold them. You didn't want to cry again over this. You've promised yourself.

"For some time it was good, really good. I liked the power and all that. But later I realized there were corruptions within the league and I tried to fix it. That was my first mistake, being too naive." You didn't even think when you were talking. "Of course I was just a puppet and when they realized they could no longer have a power over me they killed everyone I've loved. They wanted to torment me by killing them first but of course I ran away." You remembered that day like it was just today. Every detail, every sound, every footsteps.

"I've fled to another country. I've built a life there you know. I was working in a florist shop, I had a lot of friends, I even started to speak their language for a bit. I've always thought this would be the life I would have if I wasn't an assassin. I was happy." You smiled to yourself. "You know I even had a boyfriend. First I dated him to adapt that life quicker but he was so nice, so naive and full of goodness... I've found myself liking him."

Your words made Damian feel something. He couldn't help the flicker of emotion that danced across his eyes. Jealousy. But it couldn't be right? It has been decades since he was even with you, and you were kids to begin with. Yet the thought of you being with someone else lit some fires within his heart. And he couldn't stop himself from imagining things. Did he cuddle you after a long day at work? Did he introduce you to his family? Did he wanted a life with you? Maybe imagined he would be your husband and all that. These thoughts made his stomach twist in pain. Yet he was too afraid to acknowledge all that.

"For six months it was all good, I've truly believed that they have left me be. But one day I had work overtime in the shop and when I got back. There was blood-"

you stopped talking to gather your thoughts together before speaking again.

"-There was blood everywhere. They tortured him and they killed him afterwards. I didn't even have enough time to mourn over him, so I ran away again."

The tension in the air was thick. Damian absorbed your words one by one. His eyes closed with the sorrow. He felt bad not for you or for the situation, he felt bad because he left you all alone to deal with it. He wanted to say something. Like he regretted that he has left you everyday since he came here, like even though he had everything he wanted without you it was always something missing. Like he tried to date girls similar to you, that lookalike you, that speaks like you. With all these emotions, all these feelings he might actually throw himself off of this rooftop.

"But I'm done running away I'll fight back. So, now back to your question, I'm not here for your pity or to fix things with you. I want an alliance, I want revenge and I want blood."

He turned over your side to look at you and realized you were looking at him with a determination in your eyes, pain was dancing behind your vengeance speech he could see that. "What do you say Damian, let's take this fucking league down. It's already been a long time coming."

#batfamily #batfamily fic #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #fan fiction #jason todd #jason todd x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul #al ghul family #the league of assassins

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 days ago

Note

Hii! Could you please make Kirk Hammett getting mad with the reader because she's teasing him so much, and ended up fucking her until she crying of pleasure. Adding maybe hairpulling, spanking or rough oral, something like that. Thxx💕💕

Warnings: smut, teasing, oral (m receiving), spanking, hair pulling, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kirk sat beside you at the table, across was James with his woman, all having pleasant conversation while Kirk desperately tried to ignore your hand moving up his thigh.

You’ve told him countless times that you weren’t big on fancy dinners, the dressing up and the acting proper, it was all just annoying and too much. For the most part Kirk listened and understood, he liked treating you but if that’s not treating you he wouldn’t do it.

James didn’t care because he didn’t have to, and it wasn’t a suggestion to Kirk so much as he called him earlier that morning and said “I got reservations, meet us there” and he hung up.

One fancy dinner wouldn’t kill you, right?

No, of course not, but it might just kill him.

Your hand moved higher and higher until you were palming him through his dress pants and he was gripping his fork so tight his knuckles went white and he had to bite his lip so hard it bled a little.

Kirk did everything to keep quiet and the dinner normal, but the couple across from you knew what was happening. James was having his fun watching but his partner was more than happy to not say anything and just talk with Kirk and you, occasionally kicking James in the shin to silence his giggling.

Kirk was quiet the whole ride home, not even glancing in your direction. He didn’t even open the door for you when you went to get in his car.

You stared out the window, arms crossed over your chest as you thought about the punishment you’d get for your little stunt when you got home.

He pushed your face into the pillow, arms having already given out from under you. With the way he was snapping his hips into yours your back was forced to arch, ass held in the air by his calloused hands, stinging and red.

“Couldn’t just sit pretty for one fucking dinner? Not one?” He demanded, emphasizing his words with his thrusts. “Fucking bitch.” He spat, smacking your ass again.

“M’sorry, m’so sorry.” You babbled between moans, clutching the sheets beneath you in a tight grip.

Kirk grabbed your hair in his fist and yanked you back. “You’re not sorry, not even a little, are you?” You smiled at him and shook your head, tears streaming down your face and you snuggled softly.

He felt a little bad for treating you like this, but you loved it, he knew you did, so he let go and continued to ram into you.

Your moans were muffled by the pillow, Kirk’s cock was angled to perfectly hit inside you over and over. Your body was heating up, clenching around Kirk. He groaned lowly, hips losing their rhythm as he neared his own high.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, kissing up your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there while a hand went to rub your clit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came on him, his own cum spilling into you with a few guttural groans from him.

He let go of you and you face planted into the pillows, giggling softly while Kirk rolled onto his back. He pushed and poked at you until you looked at him. “You’re not done.” He said, voice breathy.

You looked down and saw he was getting hard again. You smiled at him and shimmied down the bed to be level with his dick, wrapping your hand around the base and gingerly kissing the tip before bringing it into your mouth, flicking your tongue over his slit.

You wanted to tease him some more but that didn’t pass with him this time. He grabbed you by your hair and forced you down on him, choking you and making you gag. He used your head as a fleshlight, groans filling the room and mixing with your strangled noises.

“You’re so good to me, love, so fucking good.” He mused, arm under his head. Your jaw ached and drool slipped out the corners of your mouth and dribbled down your chin. His eyes closed and a low groan left him as he came down your throat.

You pulled away and wiped your mouth, coughing while tears rolled down your cheeks.

Kirk sat up, cupping your face in his hands and thumbing away your tears. “Open up.” He said, you stared at him blankly for a moment. “Open your pretty mouth.

Your eyes widened, realizing what he was really requesting. You opened your mouth and let him see the cum still mixing with your saliva, never mind the mess you wiped on your arm.

He tsked, shaking his head. “Naughty girl, couldn’t even do one simple thing?”

#metallica x reader #metallica smut #metallica imagines #metallica rp #metallica fanfiction #80s metal #metallica #metal #kirk hammett x you #kirk my beloved #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett smut #kirk hammett imagines #kirk hammett

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chambersandfogg · 2 days ago

Text

February 14th, 1931

Dear Charles,

A happy Valentine’s Day to you, my friend! I hope you’ll forgive the bit of kitsch enclosed, for I have no one else to whom I could possibly send a valentine without it being interpreted as some kind of serious overture. But when I saw this fellow, I simply had to share him. A peculiar card, isn’t it? Poor attempts at feline humor aside, the cat in question is somewhat off-putting, I’d say. Those mad eyes, sharp claws; the strange lack of front legs. And the text just adds to the threatening air. I got a real kick out of it and thought you might too.

Did you make any plans for the evening? I am, of all things, going to the picture house to see the new “Dracula” film. Perhaps not the most romantic outing, but the chatter from the New York premiere is grand. And I will be accompanying a quite spectacular new actress whom I met just a few weeks ago. If I’m being entirely honest, I write “spectacular” not to describe her talent—she is certainly not the next Clara Bow—but her looks, which more than make up the difference. Perhaps you’ll find that terribly shallow, but I’m learning that the film industry relies heavily on its stars being rather nice to look at. After all, the audience is so much closer to them than they are to a performer on a stage.

But the medium does have its other benefits—it is much easier to create a sense of illusion and wonder when you can manipulate the final product so completely. Not that I am looking to adapt my old act into a picture, but one does marvel at the possibilities. In any case, I’m looking forward to see what they do with the bizarre fruits of Bram Stoker’s imagination.

Thank goodness we don’t have to drink blood to remain immortal. Dracula really did get the bad end of the deal. Then again, he was able to pass on his strange disease to others—though he did it quite badly. If we had that capability, would you take advantage of it? Would you create for yourself a forever valentine? The idea is tempting, though only Lord knows who it would be. It certainly won’t be this actress, fine as she is to gaze upon.

I will write again to tell you of my thoughts about the film, by which point you may have seen it as well. I personally am in the habit of going to see pictures the day they come into theaters and perhaps you are too. How would I know when you never tell me anything beyond the contents of your work? Though I suppose I can’t complain too much when you’ve secured the eminently capable Mister Weston, Esquire. Do let me know if he requires any further information from me to secure our entry into new life.

I hope the mysterious work you’re doing in Washington is yielding the results you hope. I continue to enjoy the Western part of this country immensely and will remain here for some time, as,

Your friend,

John Fogg

[a letter received by C.X. Chambers, with the following card enclosed]

[to read the pre-1917 entries, join Atypical Artists and get access to the archive of 24 entries (5,000+ words), as well as ad-free episodes of Atypical's whole catalogue. to receive future monthly missives straight to your inbox, sign up for free here]

#fogg #letter #chambers and fogg #new year's day podcast #lauren shippen

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pdriesta · 17 hours ago

Text

CHAPTER EIGHT

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

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

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

word count — 12k

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

an — the longest chapter yet!

masterlist

the sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the garden as the rehearsal kicked off. the coordinator’s voice echoed over the light hum of conversation, directing bridesmaids and groomsmen into their pairs. y/n was busy adjusting her dress when a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

“looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

she glanced up to find rome, a cousin of cash’s, standing there, a lazy grin on his face. tall, dark, and effortlessly handsome, he looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine—clean-cut with broad shoulders and a voice smooth enough to convince anyone to break the rules.

“i’m not so sure you can keep up,” y/n shot back, crossing her arms with a playful smile.

rome chuckled, his dimple flashing. “oh, i can keep up. the real question is whether you can handle me.”

“you’re awfully confident for someone who just met me.”

“i like to live on the edge.” he held out his arm, wiggling his eyebrows. “shall we?”

“we shall,” she said, slipping her arm through his.

they made their way down the makeshift aisle, taking exaggerated, overly dramatic steps just to get a laugh. by the time they reached the end, rome was twirling her in slow motion, earning cheers from the bridal party.

“wow,” y/n said, catching her breath. “that was… something.”

“something great, you mean.” rome tapped his temple. “i’ve got a natural flair for this kind of thing.”

“right,” y/n teased, “because every wedding needs someone to steal the spotlight.”

“exactly,” rome said with a wink. “you and me? we’re the stars of this show.”

the next part of the rehearsal was the reception entrance practice, which gave them even more license to goof around. rome took full advantage, pulling y/n into a ridiculous cha-cha step, then lifting her for a spin like they were in some low-budget rom-com.

“okay, okay, put me down!” she laughed, clutching his shoulders.

“admit it,” he said, finally setting her back on the ground. “we’d be unstoppable on a dance floor.”

“fine,” she said, catching her breath. “you’re not terrible.”

rome placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. “not terrible? wow, way to humble a man.”

for a moment, she forgot about everything outside of this bubble—the rehearsal, the silly banter, the easy connection with rome. it felt like a rare moment of freedom, something light and uncomplicated.

but as soon as the laughter faded, the thought crept back in. trent.

it was always there, lurking at the edges of her happiness like an unwelcome guest. no matter how much fun she was having, something about rome’s charm couldn’t quite stick. it was like her heart refused to make room for anyone else.

after the rehearsal ended, y/n found herself sitting on a bench with zaia, their heels kicked off and the hum of conversation fading into the background.

“soooo,” zaia said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “rome’s cute.”

“he’s alright,” y/n said, playing it cool.

“girl, alright? he’s fine, and he was all over you. if you don’t lock that down, i just might.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “he’s fun, but…”

“but what?”

“i don’t know.” she paused, picking at the hem of her dress. “it’s like there’s something holding me back. i keep thinking maybe it’s not about finding the right person—it’s about letting myself feel something for someone who isn’t…”

zaia leaned in, eyebrows raised. “trent?”

y/n pressed her lips together, refusing to confirm or deny it. “we’re not even… anything.”

“yeah, but you’re not nothing, either,” zaia pointed out. “and until you figure out what that means, you’re just gonna keep scaring off every rome that comes your way.”

“ugh, you’re the worst,” y/n muttered, burying her face in her hands.

“i’m the best, and you know it.” zaia grinned, patting her shoulder. “besides, rome’s not going anywhere. he’ll be at the wedding, ready to dance for your heart, if you change your mind”

trent stood at the edge of the training pitch, hands on his hips, trying to focus on the drill in front of him. but his mind wandered—again. his touches were off, passes slightly delayed, the rhythm of the session broken because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

y/n.

it had been over a week since they properly spoke, her texts short and sporadic. busy with the wedding stuff, she said. it wasn’t like her to be so distant, but the wedding preparations were demanding, and he tried not to take it personally. still, the quiet in their usual conversations made him restless, left him craving the way her laugh made everything feel lighter. the way she always knew what to say, even when he didn’t.

now, he missed her in a way that ached more than it should’ve. it wasn’t just the silence that bothered him—it was the feeling of being left on the sidelines, watching her life carry on without him while he waited for her to invite him back in.

“trent, bro, what was that?” dom called from across the pitch, jogging over with a grin that was too knowing for trent’s liking. “you trying to pass to the other team now?”

trent blinked, realizing he’d just misfired an easy pass straight into one of the cones. “shut up, man,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“nah, nah, you don’t get off that easy,” dom teased, nudging him. “what’s going on with you? you’ve been off all morning. you sick? hungover?”

“i’m fine,” trent said, a little too quickly.

dom squinted at him, smirking. “ohhh, i see what this is. it’s girl trouble, isn’t it?”

“it’s not girl trouble.”

“so it is a girl,” dom said, crossing his arms. “let me guess… y/n?”

trent’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t bother denying it. dom was one of the few who knew how close they were.

“mate,” dom said, lowering his voice, “just call her.”

“she’s busy,” trent replied, kicking at the ground. “i don’t wanna be that guy, bothering her while she’s got all this wedding stuff going on.”

“but you’re gonna keep sulking like a lovesick teenager instead?” dom raised an eyebrow. “sounds like a solid plan, bro.”

trent sighed, running a hand through his hair. what was the point in calling if she didn’t want to talk?

he’d thought about it—about picking up the phone and telling her how much he missed her, how weird it felt not to hear from her. but every time, the words got stuck in his throat. because what if it was just him? what if she didn’t miss him the same way?

“just… give her time,” dom said, clapping him on the back. “she’ll come around. she always does, right?”

trent nodded, but the doubt lingered. he could wait, sure—but waiting didn’t make the silence any easier.

and as the session wrapped up, his mind wandered back to her again.

the way her eyes lit up when she was excited.

the sound of her laugh when she thought something was really funny.

the way her presence alone made everything feel warmer, better, more right.

he just wanted that back.

trent tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled out of the training grounds, freshly showered, the sharp scent of his body wash still lingering in the air. his windows were down just enough to let the breeze slip in, the hum of the city filling the quiet. but none of it drowned out the thoughts spinning in his head.

he had made it through training, barely. dom’s teasing and knowing smirks were still fresh in his mind—he hadn’t even denied it. couldn’t. because, yeah, he was distracted. had been for days now.

and all because of her.

she’d been distant lately, caught up with the wedding preparations. he told himself that was all it was. it’s not like she’s avoiding you, mate. she was busy, and he respected that. but still, the way his phone stayed silent stung more than he liked to admit.

he had missed her before, sure, but this felt different. heavier. like something unspoken was sitting between them, growing wider every day.

trent exhaled sharply as he turned onto the street leading to his house, his phone lighting up on the passenger seat. no new messages. no missed calls. it was enough to make his chest tighten again.

before he could talk himself out of it, he reached for his phone at the next red light, his thumb hovering over her name.

just call her. it’s not that deep.

but it was.

his hand lingered, his pulse racing with something he couldn’t quite name. the urge to call her pressed down on him, hard. the thought of hearing her voice, even for a few seconds, tugged at him like gravity.

he tapped her name, the line connecting as he drove, his grip tightening on the wheel with every ring.

once. twice. his heart inched up his throat.

three. four. he felt it in his chest—how much he wanted her to answer. how much he needed her to know.

five times. no answer.

then came the familiar click, her voicemail greeting, soft and impersonal.

trent stayed silent for a moment, the phone pressed to his ear, the weight of disappointment settling deep in his chest. he could say something. leave a message, trent. say anything.

but no words came.

he ended the call and dropped his phone on the seat beside him, the ache blooming in his chest almost suffocating. the radio played softly, but he didn’t hear it. his mind was elsewhere, replaying the sound of the dial tone like it meant something.

maybe it did. maybe it was telling him what he was too stubborn to admit—that she was slipping through his fingers. that this distance wasn’t something he could fix with a phone call.

or maybe you’re just too late.

he rolled into his driveway, sitting in the car longer than he should have, staring at his phone. part of him wanted to call again. the other part wasn’t sure he could take hearing that dial tone twice in one night.

so he didn’t.

instead, he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and trying to convince himself that this was for the best. but deep down, he knew that was a lie.

because no matter how much he tried to let her go, it always came back to her. always.

trent arrived at the wedding venue late in the afternoon, his bag slung over his shoulder. he barely took in the grandeur of the place; his only thought was find her.

his steps were quick, his eyes scanning the grounds until they landed on her. y/n stood near one of the arches, clipboard in hand, dressed in sweatpants and a cropped tank, her braids pulled into a loose bun. she was mid-conversation with the wedding planner, her brows furrowed in concentration as she gestured toward a table arrangement.

the castle looked like it had been pulled from the pages of a storybook, perched on a cliff with the ocean stretching endlessly behind it. the late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm, golden light, casting a soft glow over the cobblestone paths and ivy-covered walls. y/n stood near the entrance archway, clipboard in hand, dressed casually in sweatpants and a tank top, but somehow still managing to look effortlessly beautiful. she was deep in conversation with the wedding planner, her voice calm but determined as she gave instructions, her brows furrowed in focus.

trent stood off to the side, taking her in for a moment longer than he should have. god, how he missed this—the way she got lost in her work, the way she moved with quiet confidence.

he couldn’t help himself. with quick strides, he closed the distance between them, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

she jumped, spinning around in surprise. “oh my goodness, trent!”

he chuckled, his arm staying firmly around her waist. “sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing close to her ear. “couldn’t help it. i missed you.”

she rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “it’s only been a week.”

“a week too long,” he replied, his voice low and warm. “how are you holding up?”

“honestly? overwhelmed,” she admitted, her shoulders sagging just slightly. “i thought a year would be enough time to get everything done, but there’s still so much to do. i just want everything to be perfect for zaia.”

“it will be,” he reassured her, his hand gently rubbing her back. “you’re already the best friend and maid of honor she could ask for. everything’s going to be amazing.”

before she could respond, a voice called from behind them.

“y/n! there you are.”

trent turned to see a tall, dark-skinned man approaching with an iced matcha latte in his hand. he was dressed casually in tailored joggers and a crisp white tee, his confident stride and easy smile making him impossible to miss.

rome stopped in front of them, holding out the drink. “matcha latte—oat milk, light ice, one pump of vanilla. just how you like it.” he winked. “don’t say i never pay attention.”

y/n grinned, taking the drink from him. “thanks, rome.” she turned to trent, gesturing between them. “trent, this is rome, the best man. rome, this is trent.”

rome extended his hand with a charming grin. “ah, trent. finally, we meet. i’ve heard a lot about you.”

trent shook his hand, his grip firm. “all good things, i hope.”

rome chuckled. “mostly. she’s mentioned how you like to be… protective.” his eyes flicked back to y/n. “but don’t worry, mate. i’ve been looking after her.”

trent’s jaw tightened slightly. “appreciate that.”

but rome wasn’t done. he turned back to y/n, his smile widening. “we’ve been partners in crime through this whole wedding prep. i think we make a solid team, don’t you?”

“the best,” y/n agreed with a laugh.

rome nudged her playfully. “though i will say, you’re struggling to keep up with my moves. maybe we need to rehearse that reception dance one more time so you don’t embarrass us both.”

she gasped in mock offense, nudging him back. “me? embarrass you? please. i’m carrying this whole routine.”

“oh, is that right?” rome teased, leaning in just slightly. “guess we’ll see then.”

trent stood silently, watching the interaction, his eyes narrowing. something in his chest twisted, sharp and unwelcome. he didn’t like the way rome was leaning in, the easy familiarity between them.

he tried to tell himself it was nothing. just playful banter. but then rome’s hand brushed lightly against y/n’s arm, and that was it.

he cleared his throat, his voice calm but leaving no room for debate. “y/n, why don’t you show me where our room is? you could use some rest before things get even busier.”

rome’s eyebrows shot up at the emphasis on our room, but he didn’t comment.

y/n glanced between them, sensing the tension. “yeah… you’re probably right.” she turned to rome, giving him a small smile. “i’ll see you later, okay?”

rome winked. “don’t keep me waiting too long, partner.”

trent didn’t glance back as he guided her toward the castle, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. his mind was racing, heart pounding harder than it should have been.

she glanced up at him as they walked. “everything okay?”

“yeah,” he said, voice tight. but the truth was, it wasn’t. because for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure where he stood. and he hated that feeling.

the room was quiet except for the soft rustling of fabric and the low hum of the air conditioning. y/n was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress for the rehearsal dinner. it was the first time she’d had a moment to herself all day, but she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off between her and trent. he had been distant, colder than usual, and it was driving her crazy.

she looked up at him, glancing over her shoulder as he struggled to tie his cufflinks. “how do i look?” she asked, her voice casual, but the words came out a little softer than she’d intended. she hoped he’d offer a compliment, anything to break the tension that had been building since they arrived.

trent didn’t immediately respond. instead, he adjusted his cufflinks with a focused expression, his back to her. he looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, then back down at his wrist, fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. “you look fine,” he said, his tone distant.

y/n blinked, taken aback by how short his answer was. she’d expected more than that. the coldness in his voice stung, even though she tried not to let it show.

“i asked how i look, trent, not just that i look ‘fine,’” she pressed, crossing her arms in the mirror, studying his reflection as she spoke. “are you gonna just ignore me the entire evening, or do you actually want to have a conversation?”

he shifted slightly, his jaw tightening, but still didn’t turn to face her. his voice came out low, irritated. “i don’t feel like talking right now, y/n.”

that was it. she could feel her patience snapping in that moment. he wasn’t being himself, and she didn’t deserve to be brushed off like this—not by him, especially not tonight. not when everything had been so perfect just a few days ago.

“are you serious right now?” y/n asked, her voice rising slightly. “you’ve been acting like this all day. hot and cold, trent. this isn’t me, and it’s sure as hell not you.”

there was a pause before he spoke again, his words clipped. “i don’t want to talk about it, y/n. especially not with you.”

the words landed hard. y/n felt a pang of hurt, quickly smothered by rising anger. the way he dismissed her like that, especially with the way things had been going between them, made her blood boil. she hadn’t expected an easy answer, but the flatness in his voice was more than she could take.

“you don’t want to talk about it especially with me?” she asked, incredulous. “what the hell does that even mean, trent?”

she could see him stiffen in the mirror, his shoulders tense as if he was holding something back. but he still wouldn’t turn to face her, and that only made her frustration build. “this attitude of yours is ridiculous,” she snapped, “you can’t just shut me out and expect me to sit here while you brood in silence. you know better than that.”

there was a brief silence before he spoke again, but this time, his tone wasn’t harsh, just… empty. “i don’t have the energy to for this right now.”

y/n shook her head, her lips pressed together tightly. she had tried to keep it together, but now she was done.

“if you don’t want to talk, fine,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “but i’m not going to sit here and be treated like this.” she grabbed her bag from the bed and turned toward the door. “when you sort your attitude out, maybe we can talk. until then, don’t even bother.”

she paused at the door for a moment, turning back slightly. “and just so we’re clear—you’re not gonna ruin my best friend’s day. i’ve got a million things to do, and i’m not waiting around for you to figure out your feelings.”

with that, she left the room, the sound of her heels clicking sharply against the floor. she didn’t even hear him call out as she walked away, her frustration too heavy to bear any more of this cold silence.

trent stood frozen for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. he had wanted to say something, but the words had stuck in his throat, and now it was too late. he felt stupid, frustrated with himself for pushing her away like that. but he couldn’t find the right words—he wasn’t even sure if he could find the right words.

he turned to face the mirror again, his reflection staring back at him. a part of him hated how much he cared, how much he wanted to fix things between them. but all he had managed to do was make things worse.

and now, he was alone in the silence.

the dinner was everything it was meant to be—warm, joyous, filled with love in every corner of the grand hall. fairy lights cascaded from the vaulted ceiling, the golden glow casting everything in a dreamlike haze. the tables were lined with candles and soft floral arrangements, the dance floor already packed with guests swaying to the live band’s melody. laughter rang through the space, glasses clinked in toasts, and at the heart of it all was zaia and cash, glowing with happiness.

but trent wasn’t watching them.

he was watching her.

even though they were seated together at the head table, it felt like he hadn’t had a second with her all night. y/n had been whisked away for maid of honor duties the moment they arrived, moving through the room like she belonged to everyone, not just to him.

and how could she not?

she was magnetic. not because of her fame, not because of who she was to the world, but because of her heart.

he watched as aunties pulled her into hugs, kissing her cheeks like she was their own daughter. she crouched beside a grandma, gently touching up her lipstick with careful hands, whispering something that made the woman laugh and squeeze her wrist in thanks. she adjusted an auntie’s hair, fixed a crooked necklace, dashed back and forth to help zaia, all while making sure cash didn’t have a meltdown about whether or not everything was going smoothly.

she was in her element.

caring for people. pouring into them. making everything easier, softer.

trent knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that kind of care, and the thought made something tighten in his chest.

the mc took the stage, and the chatter in the hall quieted to murmurs. with a wide grin, he introduced the couple and their respected family, prompting the guests to turn their attention to the middle of the room.

zaia, radiant in her pristine gown, turned to cash as he pulled her close, whispering something in her ear that made her beam.

trent saw the way y/n watched them from the side of the stage, her hands clasped in front of her, likely running over the words to her speech in her head.

but he also saw the way the soft lighting caught in her eyes, the way something tender and aching rested beneath her expression.

he knew what that feeling was. yearning. longing

when it was finally her turn, the mc barely finished saying her name before the entire room erupted into cheers. trent sat forward as she took the mic, rolling her eyes playfully at the crowd before shaking her head.

“alright, alright,” she laughed, glancing at zaia, who was already dabbing at her eyes. “don’t start crying yet, or i’ll never make it through this.”

the guests chuckled, settling in.

y/n exhaled, steadying herself before speaking.

“i don’t really know where to start,” she admitted, eyes flickering between the bride and groom. “i feel like there aren’t enough words to describe how much these two mean to me.”

she paused, letting the weight of her words settle.

y/n took a moment to gather her thoughts, the warmth of the room settling over her as she looked at cash and zaia, both of them smiling up at her. she cleared her throat and smiled softly, a little more at ease now that she had gotten through the emotional part.

“you see, everyone knows me as the third wheel in this dynamic,” y/n started, her tone playful as she gestured to the two of them. “but what most people don’t know is that we didn’t start off this way. no, we met back in school—zaia and i were already seatmates, sharing laughs over the most random things, but then… a boy decided to turn our duo into a trio. i’m sure i can guess what you all are thinking, and yes, he was that boy—cash.”

there were a few chuckles around the room, and y/n winked as she went on. “and let me tell you, our first impression of him wasn’t exactly great.” she paused for dramatic effect, shaking her head with a grin. “he was the quiet kid, always acting like he knew more than us. but little did we know, that boy would change our lives in ways we never imagined.”

she caught cash’s amused expression as he shook his head, and the room laughed along with her. “but seriously, though,” she continued, her voice growing more sincere as she looked between cash and zaia, “there is no feeling quite like watching your best friends fall in love. and for me, i had the privilege to witness it—not just once, but twice. with both of them.”

there was a shift in her tone, soft and thoughtful. “it’s terrifying, honestly. because you don’t want them to get hurt. but in the same breath, you can’t help but be in awe of how effortlessly they love each other, how deeply they care. and that’s something that teaches you so much about what a relationship should look like. it’s not always perfect, but it’s real. and it’s beautiful.”

y/n smiled warmly at zaia, then turned her attention to cash, her voice full of affection. “cash… you are the older brother i always wanted. you’ve been a protector, a safe place, a provider of tough love—sometimes too tough, but i won’t call you out in front of all these people.”

the room filled with laughter, and cash gave her a knowing smile, shaking his head as if he expected that line to come. “but in all seriousness,” y/n added, her tone softening, “the way you love zaia, the way you take care of her… it’s something i’ve always admired. and it doesn’t just stop with her. it extends to all of us. to me.”

y/n took a deep breath, her chest tightening with emotion as she continued. “i can’t count the number of times you’ve reminded me of my worth when i forgot it myself. you’ve always been in my corner, and i’ll never take that for granted.”

cash’s jaw clenched, emotion flashing in his eyes as he nodded at her, his own way of saying i love you too.

y/n took a deep breath, letting the quiet settle over the room before she spoke again, her eyes locking onto zaia. the words that had been swirling in her heart finally found their way out, each one heavier than the last.

“zaia…” she swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling before smiling. “you are my sister. not by blood, but by something even stronger. there’s no one in this world who knows me like you do. you’ve seen every version of me—every mistake, every heartbreak, every high and low—and you’ve never once made me feel like i had to be anything other than myself.”

her chest tightened as she watched zaia’s eyes glisten, and she fought to keep her own tears in check. she had to finish, had to get these words out, because they were real—everything she was saying was real.

“you’ve taught me what it means to love without limits. your love is never conditional. never quiet. it’s fierce. it’s unapologetic. and i’ve seen how that love has shaped you into the incredible woman standing in front of me today. but even more, i’ve seen how that love has shaped me. it’s made me braver. it’s made me stronger. because of you, i believe in myself more than i ever thought i could.”

zaia’s lip quivered, her hand clutching y/n’s as she whispered, “i love you.”

“i love you too, more than you’ll ever know,” y/n whispered back, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “and i’ve never told you this enough, but you are my rock. when everything else in my life felt uncertain, you’ve been the one constant. when the world told me i wasn’t enough, you were the one who made me feel like i was. i’ve never met anyone like you, zaia. you are the heart of everything good. you make everyone around you better. stronger. kinder. you’ve taught me that love doesn’t have to be perfect to be real. you are proof of that. every day. in every little thing you do.”

y/n took a breath, trying to steady herself, but her voice broke a little. “and for everything you are… for everything you’ve done for me, and everyone who’s lucky enough to know you… i’ll always be grateful. i’ll always be here, standing by you, just like you’ve stood by me.”

zaia’s hand covered her mouth as she wiped her tears, her emotions so raw it was as if she were hearing these words for the very first time. “thank you,” zaia whispered, voice trembling.

“so this is to you, my sister. my best friend. my family.” meeting zaia’s gaze with a smile. “may you and cash continue to show the world what love really is. the kind that doesn’t need to be perfect to be beautiful, the kind that is always worth fighting for. i’m so proud of you, zaia. i hope you know that.”

the room was silent for a moment, all eyes on the two of them as they held each other in a long, tight embrace. y/n squeezed her best friend, knowing that no matter what came their way, this bond—this love—would always be unbreakable.

zaia sniffled, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe she was about to cry in front of everyone.

“you are love, in every sense of the word. and i am so lucky to have you in my life.”

y/n let out a breathy laugh, clearing her throat.

“together, you two are… proof,” she said softly, her eyes shining. “proof that real love exists. that it’s not perfect, but it’s worth it. that it’s something to fight for, to cherish, to protect. and every day, you remind me that love is possible.”

there was a quiet, meaningful pause as the room fell into a deep silence, and y/n looked up at both zaia and cash, her heart full. “so this is to you both, the couple who has taught me what it means to love fiercely and with no limits. to the couple who makes me believe in the possibility of love every single day.” she raised her glass higher, her eyes shining with sincerity. “may your love always be this strong, this unshakable, and may it inspire everyone around you, just like it’s inspired me.”

the room was silent now, everyone hanging onto her words.

trent was too.

his throat felt tight.

because she wasn’t just talking about them.

she was talking about herself.

y/n blinked quickly, laughing as she shook her head. “okay, i need to stop before i start sobbing, and cash will never let me live it down. to zaia and cash!”

the room erupted into cheers and applause, people clinking their glasses as zaia pulled y/n into a tight hug, whispering something in her ear that made her nod quickly, like she was trying to hold herself together.

trent could only stare.

his head was spinning.

because in that moment, as she stood there—emotional, open, her heart laid bare—he realized something he should’ve known all along.

he was in love with her.

so in love, it scared him.

the rehearsal dinner had been perfect. the kind of night people dream about, full of laughter, love, and overwhelming joy. y/n had given her speech, standing before everyone with a smile that was both proud and sentimental, her voice steady as she spoke about zaia and cash. about their love, their story, their future.

trent had watched her the whole time, barely listening to her words because he was too caught up in the way she made him feel. how, for the first time, something clicked deep in his chest—an understanding he hadn’t quite reached before. he was in love with her. hopelessly, stupidly, entirely in love with her.

but there was also something else, something darker, eating at him. something that had started at the rehearsal and hadn’t let up all night. rome.

rome, who had been at her side. rome, who had made her laugh. rome, who had his hand at the small of her back when they danced, his lips too close to her ear when he whispered something to make her smile. it had been driving trent mad, twisting inside him, tightening like a fist in his chest.

by the time they entered their suite. trent couldn’t shake his feelings of discomfort. not just a rome but his fear of wanting more with y/n. she stood on their shared bathroom in front of the mirror, fingers unclasping her necklace with slow, measured movements. the reception had been everything she hoped for—emotional, beautiful, a perfect night for her best friend. but as she stood here now, in the quiet of the suite, she felt an ache she couldn’t quite name.

trent was somewhere behind her, freshly changed out of his suit, moving around with an energy that felt… restless. he hadn’t spoken much since they got back. not in the car. not when they walked through the grand hallway of the castle. not when she disappeared into the bathroom to wipe off her makeup.

the tension between them had been brewing for weeks, simmering just beneath the surface. and she wasn’t about to be the one to address it.

she reached up to take out her earrings, catching his reflection as he came closer. her fingers stilled.

he was watching her.

his gaze was heavy, dark.

she swallowed, keeping her expression blank as she met his eyes in the mirror. “what?”

trent didn’t answer. he just kept looking, his head tilting slightly, like he was studying her.

y/n exhaled, forcing a small smirk. “you got something to say, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

still, nothing.

he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head with one swift movement, and she hated the way her eyes betrayed her, flickering down over the sharp lines of his torso, the familiar ink that stretched over his skin.

she tore her gaze away quickly, focusing on the clasp of her bracelet instead. “whatever, trent,” she muttered, pretending she wasn’t affected, pretending like she didn’t feel the heat of his stare seep into her skin.

but then he moved.

before she could react, his hands were on her hips, his body pressing against her back, firm and warm. his head dipped, breath fanning against the curve of her neck, and she knew what was coming before his lips even touched her.

“you really wanna act like you don’t want this?” trent murmured, his voice low, rough, dangerous.

her breath caught.

his mouth brushed against the sensitive spot beneath her ear, his fingers tightening at her waist. “you think i don’t see it?” he whispered, trailing soft, maddening kisses down her neck. “the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice? the way you let me get this close, even when you swear you won’t?”

she let out a shaky exhale, hands gripping the vanity. “you’re delusional,” she said, but the words came out weak, breathless.

trent hummed against her skin. “am i?”

his teeth grazed her shoulder, just enough to send a shiver down her spine.

her fingers curled into fists. “trent.”

“say you don’t want me.” he kissed up her neck, slow, deliberate. “say you don’t want this, and i’ll stop.”

her heart pounded. she should say it. she should lie.

but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

trent smirked, pressing one last lingering kiss to her jaw before pulling back just enough to look at her reflection in the mirror. “that’s what i thought.”

y/n’s resolve shattered.

she turned in his hold, fisting the fabric of his joggers, yanking him down into a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. trent groaned into her mouth, one hand tangling in her hair, the other gripping her thigh to pull her impossibly closer.

whatever fight she had left was long gone.

she’d deal with the consequences later.

the sex was urgent, desperate—like something they were both trying to prove. she could feel it in the way he touched her, rougher than usual, and she matched it, gripping at him just as hard, taking everything he gave her because she wanted to believe it meant something. she needed to believe it.

but then it was over.

trent pulled away first. he always did. rolled onto his back, running a hand over his face like he was already regretting it, like the fire between them had burned out the second he got what he wanted.

y/n turned onto her side, still catching her breath. she wanted to say something, wanted to reach for him, but then he spoke first.

“so,” trent exhaled, his tone sharp, bitter, “are you gonna run off to rome now?”

she froze, her stomach dropping instantly.“what?” she breathed, turning her head to look at him.

trent scoffed, shaking his head as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “don’t play dumb, y/n,” he muttered. “you think i don’t see the way he looks at you? the way you look at him?”

her jaw clenched. “what the hell are you talking about?”

he let out a cold laugh, finally meeting her gaze, and there was something in his eyes that made her chest tighten. “you want him, don’t you?”

y/n felt something snap inside her. “you’re insane,” she bit out, sitting up too, gripping the sheets around her. “how the hell did we go from this to whatever delusional shit you’re spewing right now?”

trent leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing. “because it’s obvious,” he said lowly. “you act like this is just some accident every time, but then you turn around and let him all over you? so what is it? am i just a backup? placeholder until you get the next guy you want”

the words stung so deeply she physically flinched.

she shook her head, anger and disbelief swirling inside her. “you’re disgusting,” she whispered, voice shaking. “i don’t know why i keep letting you do this to me.”

he huffed out another humorless laugh, looking away. “yeah?” he muttered, jaw tight. “well, maybe if you stopped opening your legs for me, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

as his words fell, so did the temperature of the room.

silence. thick, suffocating silence.

trent realized it the second the words left his mouth, but it was too late. the damage was done.

y/n just stared at him, her entire body going numb. she felt sick, like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

she had no words. nothing to say to that.

slowly, she reached for the silk robe on top of her bridesmaid’s pajamas, slipping it over her shoulders. she wouldn’t cry. not in front of him. not after that.

trent sat up quickly, his expression shifting. “y/n—”

“don’t,” she cut him off, her voice eerily calm. “not this times just don’t.”

he watched helplessly as she slipped on her slippers, grabbing her phone, avoiding his gaze entirely. he felt it—felt her slipping away, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

she walked to the door, gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. then, without another word, she walked out, leaving him alone in the mess he created.

zaia opened the door almost instantly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “y/n?” she mumbled, blinking in confusion. “what’s wrong?”

zaia held her tightly as y/n buried her face into her best friend’s shoulder, trying desperately to stifle her sobs, but it was no use. she let out a shaky breath, then another, and before she knew it, she was crying in earnest, her shoulders shaking as she let everything out. zaia didn’t say a word, just held her, offering the comfort that y/n needed but hadn’t known she was craving.

after what felt like an eternity, y/n pulled away, wiping at her eyes and trying to steady her breath. “i’m sorry,” she managed, her voice hoarse. “i shouldn’t be crying about this. it’s your wedding day, i—”

“respectfully, shut up,” zaia cut in, her tone firm but full of love. “any time, any place, any situation. i got you. you’re my sister. and you’re obviously hurt, so don’t you dare apologize for that.” zaia sat down on the bed, pulling y/n with her. “tell me what you need, sis. i’m here, always.”

y/n took a deep breath, trying to hold back more tears, but they came anyway. she wiped at her face and let out a small, bitter laugh. “i don’t even know anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “i feel like i’m losing myself. like, in monaco, everything just changed. i thought i was doing okay. i really did.” her voice trembled as she spoke, and zaia’s heart broke for her best friend.

“monaco?” zaia asked, her voice soft but curious.

y/n took a deep breath, her voice shaking slightly as she finally allowed herself to speak the truth. “zaia, i… i need to tell you something. something i’ve been carrying since monaco. trent and i, we… we slept together for the first time.”

zaia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t interrupt, her focus solely on y/n as she continued.

“i knew i liked him. i always have, but that night in monaco, it felt like everything was finally coming together. i thought it meant something, zaia. i really did. but then, he made it clear it was just… just sex.” y/n’s voice broke as she spoke, the weight of the words crushing her from the inside. “and i’ve never felt more worthless in my life. he made me feel like i didn’t matter at all. like i was just something to pass the time with. i knew, deep down, he didn’t care the way i did. but hearing him say it… it just… it broke me.”

zaia sat up straighter, her face softening with understanding. “y/n,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “you are loved. don’t you dare let him make you feel otherwise.” she held y/n’s gaze, the warmth of her sincerity radiating from her. “i love you. cash loves you. we all do. you are worth so much more than how he treated you.”

y/n wiped at her eyes, trying to stifle the tears that threatened to spill again. “i know, but it doesn’t stop how he made me feel. like i wasn’t even worthy of being more than a fleeting moment to him.”

zaia took a deep breath, leaning in as she spoke with a quiet conviction. “he can’t wrap his head around his own feelings, y/n. he’s messed up. and the way he treated you, it’s not a reflection of who you are. it’s all on him.”

y/n looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap as she let zaia’s words sink in. “i tried to move on from it, but i couldn’t. it’s like… no matter how much i wanted to convince myself it didn’t matter, it did. every time he pulls away, every time he acts like it’s nothing… it just feels like a dagger in my chest. i’ve been walking around, pretending to be fine, but it’s eating me up inside.”

zaia’s eyes softened as the realization hit her like a wave. she placed her hand gently on y/n’s shoulder, a quiet understanding passing between them. “that’s why you disappeared after monaco,” zaia murmured, her heart breaking for her best friend. “you isolated yourself because you didn’t know how to deal with all of this. you didn’t want to face it, and you felt like you had no one to turn to. i’m so sorry you went through all of that alone, y/n. i should’ve noticed.”

y/n shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t want to burden anyone. it was easier to just pretend everything was okay, even when it wasn’t.”

zaia cupped y/n’s face in her hands, her touch soft but insistent. “you are never a burden. you are not alone in this. you’ve never been alone. and i should’ve been there for you when you needed it the most.” she paused, squeezing y/n’s hands tightly. “i’m here now. you don’t have to hide how you’re feeling anymore. let me be here for you. don’t carry this weight by yourself.”

y/n finally broke down again, the tears falling freely this time. zaia’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t look away, didn’t say anything else. she just held y/n, letting her cry it out, her sobs filled with all the pain she had been hiding for so long.

“don’t ever think that boy is the reason you’re worth anything,” zaia whispered as she gently rubbed y/n’s back, offering her comfort. “he doesn’t know what he has, but we do. you are so much more than he could ever make you feel.”

y/n nodded, the weight in her chest lifting just slightly from the steady comfort zaia provided. “i don’t know how to let him go,” she confessed, her voice quiet but filled with resolve. “but i have to, right? for me. i have to stop letting him control how i feel about myself.”

y/n nodded again, a tear-streaked smile breaking through. “thank you, zaia. for everything. i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

zaia’s brow furrowed as she listened to y/n’s confession. “so, you’re telling me, you two decided to just… have sex, and you thought that would fix everything?”

y/n laughed bitterly, nodding. “i thought it would make things better. but it only made it worse. because after, i felt worse about myself. like i was just another girl to him. and now, i feel like all i am to him is… a body, not someone he cares about. and it hurts. god, it hurts so much, zaia. i thought i could be strong, but every time he pulls away, it’s like he rips the rug out from under me.” she wiped away another tear, but it kept coming. “i hate that i still want him. i hate it so much. i feel like i’m not good enough for him, and i don’t know how to fix it.”

zaia wrapped her arms around her tightly again, holding y/n in a protective embrace. “you don’t have to fix it, baby girl. you are more than enough. he needs to figure out how to treat you the way you deserve.” she pulled back slightly, cupping y/n’s face. “this isn’t on you. you’ve been carrying this weight for months, and i’m so sorry you’ve had to go through it alone. but you’re not alone anymore, okay? i’m here, always.”

y/n nodded, feeling the comfort in her best friend’s words but still feeling the ache of everything she had gone through. “i just feel so foolish. i was so sure we were fine. and then he just… made me feel like nothing. and i can’t even say it to him. i don’t even know how to talk to him anymore.”

zaia didn’t hesitate. “you can talk to me, always. i’ve got you. i’ll be here for you every step of the way.” she paused, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “you deserve someone who sees you, truly sees you. he doesn’t deserve you if he can’t even treat you like you matter. don’t let him make you question your worth, y/n.”

y/n bit her lip, trying to hold it together as the last of her tears fell. “i just… i don’t know how to walk away, though. even after everything, i still want him.” her voice broke as she whispered the truth she’d been keeping buried. “and i hate myself for it.”

“you don’t have to hate yourself for wanting him,” zaia said, her voice firm but soft. “but you do have to remember who you are. you are amazing, y/n. and no man should make you feel like you’re anything less than that. take your time. you don’t need to figure it all out tonight, but promise me you’ll start thinking about what you need, okay?”

y/n nodded, feeling a small sense of relief in the embrace of her best friend. “thank you,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

zaia kissed the top of her head, brushing away her own tears as she whispered, “yes, you do. you have to choose yourself now. you deserve to be loved the way you love, not in fragments and not as an afterthought.”

zaia was silent for a moment before she said, “maybe it’s time to stop.”

y/n let out a breath, staring at the ceiling. “maybe.”

but deep down, she knew. she had to.

because this? this wasn’t love. this was self-destruction, wrapped up in something that felt like love but had never been anything more than a painful illusion.

and she couldn’t do it anymore.

trent woke up early, the tension of the night before still sitting heavy on his chest. he hadn’t expected her to leave, especially after everything had been building up, but when he returned from his morning run and paddle session with cash and a few of the groomsmen, it was clear y/n wasn’t coming back to the room. her things were gone. her absence hit him harder than he anticipated. each quiet moment that passed made him more aware of her absence, and the thought of what had happened between them made his stomach twist.

he couldn’t stop thinking about the fight. the harsh words, the anger, and the painful silence that followed. but what really gnawed at him was the feeling of being so close, yet so far away from her. they’d never really talked about what they were, what they could be. but in that moment, he knew he had lost something precious.

trent had always been good at keeping things under control. in football, on the field, he was disciplined, focused, precise. off the field, it was no different—he didn’t get caught up in emotions, never let anything slip past the walls he’d built around himself. but with y/n? everything was different.

it had been months of tension, of unspoken words and stolen moments. and still, he had never said it. never admitted it aloud. he couldn’t—he wasn’t sure how. the weight of those three words felt like too much, like saying them would shatter everything they had built in their quiet moments. but every time he was near her, it was all he could think about.

the way her laughter filled the space between them, as if it were meant to chase away every shadow. the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her work, her passion for everything she did, whether it was a new song, a project she was excited about, or even a random conversation about the future. y/n wasn’t just driven; she was relentless, her ambition an ever-present force that pulled him in, made him want to do better, be better.

he loved the way her eyes narrowed, the little crease that formed between her eyebrows when she wasn’t pleased with something. it didn’t matter what it was—whether it was a lyric that didn’t feel right or a recording that wasn’t up to her standard. she was determined, stubborn in the best way, refusing to let anything be less than perfect.

he loved the way she cared for the people around her, her quiet, unspoken loyalty. she was always there for her friends, for those who needed her, her strength never faltering. the way she held herself, graceful yet fierce, made everything feel effortless, and that strength, that inner fire, was what drew him to her.

trent had never been one to back down from his feelings before, but with y/n, everything was different. every time he thought about telling her how he felt, doubt clouded his mind. he wasn’t the type of guy to spill his emotions, wasn’t the type to risk making things complicated. but then again, everything about y/n had made him reconsider everything he’d ever known about himself.

he’d caught himself staring at her, the way she moved, how she took up space without even trying. how when she smiled, it was like the entire room lit up, and everything around her became brighter. but it was in the quiet moments, when they weren’t talking, that he saw it the most. the way she leaned into him after a long day, the warmth of her hand brushing against his as they sat together, the subtle way she sought comfort in his presence without needing to say a word.

but now, at the wedding, everything he’d tried to suppress—the love he’d refused to acknowledge—was breaking through.

it had started with her absence. when she left, taking her things without a word, it was like a punch to the gut. the emptiness of the room he’d shared with her felt like a thousand unanswered questions hanging in the air.

and as he watched her walk down the aisle—graceful, breathtaking, completely unaware of how she had just undone him—he felt everything. the pang in his chest, the tightening of his stomach, the overwhelming need to be near her. the emerald dress that hugged her body like it was made just for her, the soft waves of her hair catching the light, the way she looked like she belonged in that moment, in this world, right in front of him—it all hit him like a wave.

he’d spent too many months ignoring the truth, burying it deep, telling himself it was just a fleeting attraction, just the rush of excitement he got from being around her. but in that moment, seeing her, everything became clear.

he loved her.

but the words… they were impossible to say.

he couldn’t do it. not here. not in front of everyone.

but as she walked closer, his heart pounded louder in his chest, and he could feel the weight of the truth pressing against his ribs, suffocating him. he opened his mouth, the words teetering on the edge of his lips, and he couldn’t stop them.

“i love you.”

the confession barely left his lips, a soft whisper, but it shattered the space between them. her eyes flickered toward him, and for a moment, everything stopped. the guests, the ceremony, the world outside—they all faded into the background as he waited for her to process it.

and for just a split second, it was as if time had stood still. y/n’s gaze met his, confusion and surprise dancing in her eyes, but before she could react, she was at the altar, her back now turned to him.

trent’s chest tightened as the reality of what he’d just done settled in. he had said it—he had said the words he’d been holding onto for so long—and now, nothing would ever be the same. the air between them had shifted, and he knew that even if things couldn’t go back to what they were, he couldn’t regret finally saying the truth.

he loved her. and now she knew.

and he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that their relationship would never be the same.

the reception was in full swing, vibrant and alive, the sounds of chatter, laughter, and music weaving together in an almost hypnotic rhythm. guests filled the grand hall, surrounded by sparkling lights and the delicate scent of flowers that seemed to linger in the air, but all trent could do was watch her.

y/n had avoided him all evening, her presence in the room more intoxicating than ever, but every time their eyes threatened to meet, she’d quickly look away. there was something different about her now, something almost… untouchable. he could feel the distance between them grow with each passing moment, the weight of the confession hanging in the air like a cloud he couldn’t shake.

as the night wore on, he watched helplessly as rome, ever the charming groomsman, moved closer to y/n. trent couldn’t even focus on the conversation happening around him, his gaze locked onto them. it wasn’t jealousy that gripped his chest, not entirely. it was a deep ache, a longing, and the bitter taste of regret that had settled on his tongue since he had confessed his feelings.

rome, with his smooth words and easy smile, took y/n by the hand, leading her to the center of the room for the dance. she looked stunning—effortless in her grace, her emerald dress sparkling under the lights, her hair falling around her shoulders like soft waves. she danced with rome, laughing as they moved in perfect harmony, her eyes alight with joy. she seemed so at ease, so free, and trent couldn’t tear his eyes away.

his chest tightened as he watched them twirl, their bodies moving together in sync, rome lifting y/n with ease, spinning her around with a smile that made her laugh, a sound so pure it cut right through him.

he wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that. to hold her, to twirl her around, to make her feel like she belonged with him.

but she was lost in rome’s arms, his hands on her waist, and when he lifted her bridal-style, y/n’s laughter filled the air again, the sound that once brought him so much comfort now only deepening the ache in his chest. her smile was so bright, so carefree, it made his gut twist, the pang of longing gnawing at him.

he hadn’t imagined this. he hadn’t imagined seeing her like this, so happy, so free, with someone else. but in that moment, as rome’s arms wrapped around her, it was impossible to deny. she was so beautiful, so perfect, but she wasn’t his.

trent stood there, frozen, watching them as they shared this intimate moment, and for the first time all evening, he realized just how much he had let slip through his fingers.

the reception buzzed with joy, the kind of happiness that felt almost tangible, spreading like wildfire through the crowd. the vibrant hues of gold and green shimmered under the soft glow of the chandeliers, the music a steady pulse of celebration. but for y/n, it was a blur.

she moved through the festivities mechanically, her smile painted on, her laugh hollow. the ache in her chest had only grown since trent’s declaration during the ceremony, a single moment that unraveled everything she thought she’d understood about their arrangement.

he said he loved me.

the words looped in her head, taunting her, twisting the knife of hurt deeper with every replay. she had to keep moving, keep doing her maid of honor duties, because if she stopped—if she let herself think for even a second—she’d fall apart.

as the night carried on, the time came for her to change into her traditional outfit. she slipped away from the crowd, her steps quick as she entered the quiet room she’d been using earlier. the space was a sanctuary, an escape from the overwhelming noise and the weight of her emotions.

she unzipped the garment bag with trembling hands, the rich gold and green fabric catching the light. slipping into the wrap skirt, she struggled to secure it properly, her fingers fumbling from the tension in her chest. she couldn’t seem to focus, her mind a storm of anger and betrayal.

“need help?”

his voice hit her like a thunderclap, sharp and unexpected. she stiffened, her back to the door as she recognized trent’s familiar tone.

“no,” she said curtly, her voice clipped.

he ignored her, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him. “you’ve been avoiding me all night,” he said, his voice low but steady.

“i haven’t,” she snapped, her hands busying themselves with the zipper of her blouse, though it wouldn’t budge.

“y/n, stop lying,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “you won’t even look at me.”

her jaw clenched, and she kept her eyes fixed ahead, pretending to focus on the mirror. “i’ve been busy. it’s a wedding, trent. there’s a lot to do.”

“bullshit,” he said sharply, his patience clearly wearing thin. he moved behind her, his hands brushing against her back as he took the zipper and pulled it up. “there. now you can stop pretending.”

“what do you want, trent?” she asked, her voice hard as she stepped away from him, putting distance between them.

“i want to talk,” he said simply, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “about what happened.”

“there’s nothing to talk about,” she said quickly, picking up her jewelry and focusing on fastening her bracelet.

“don’t do that,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “don’t shut me out like this.”

“i’m not shutting you out. that would imply i ever let you in,” she shot back, her eyes finally meeting his. “i’m protecting myself.”

trent’s brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. “protecting yourself? from what?”

“from you!” she said, her voice breaking as anger and hurt poured out of her. “from the man who spent weeks treating me like i was nothing more than a convenient arrangement, only to turn around and say he loves me during my best friend’s wedding. do you have any idea what that did to me?”

his face fell, his expression stricken. “y/n, i never meant to hurt you—”

“but you did!” she interrupted, her voice shaking with emotion. “you made me feel like i was just… just some fling to you. like none of this—none of us—meant anything.”

“that’s not true,” he said firmly, stepping closer again. “it meant everything to me. you mean everything to me.”

she laughed bitterly, shaking her head as tears welled in her eyes. “don’t say that. don’t you dare say that now, when it’s too late.”

“it’s not too late,” he insisted, his voice soft but resolute. “i know i messed up. i should’ve told you how i felt sooner, but i was scared, y/n. scared that if i told you, you’d walk away.”

“so you let me believe i was just… temporary?” she said, her voice rising again. “you let me give you parts of myself i’ve never given to anyone, and you couldn’t even be honest with me?”

trent ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “i didn’t know how to say it. i didn’t want to mess this up.”

“well, congratulations,” she said bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. “you managed to do that anyway.”

his jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath, his gaze steady on hers. “i’m not giving up on this. on us.”

“there is no ‘us,’” she said coldly, her tears spilling over now. “you made sure of that.”

he stepped closer, his hands reaching for hers, but she pulled away. “y/n, please,” he said, his voice breaking. “just give me a chance to make this right.”

“i don’t know if you can,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “you broke something in me, trent. and i don’t know if it can be fixed.”

the silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words hanging heavy between them. for the first time, trent looked uncertain, his confidence faltering as he realized the depth of her pain.

but even then, he wasn’t ready to give up. “i’ll prove it to you,” he said softly. “if you let me, i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

y/n stared at him, her heart aching, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. she didn’t know if she could trust him again, didn’t know if she could risk her heart once more.

but as she looked into his eyes, she saw something she hadn’t before—genuine regret, vulnerability, and a love so raw it scared her.

and for a moment, just a moment, she let herself hope.

trent’s words hung heavy in the air, his desperation evident in the way his voice trembled, in the way his eyes searched hers for any flicker of hope. but y/n could barely hear him over the pounding in her chest, over the ache clawing its way through her.

he wanted to prove himself? now? after weeks of her pouring herself into something she thought was mutual, only to find out she’d been fooling herself the entire time?

she shook her head, her tears blurring the room around her. “no, trent.”

his brow furrowed, his confusion plain. “no? what do you mean, no?”

“i mean no,” she said firmly, her voice sharper now, anger cutting through her sadness. “the contract is up. you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

trent froze, his hands falling to his sides. “pretend?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “y/n, i wasn’t pretending—”

“oh, really?” she snapped, taking a step back from him. “because that’s all this has ever felt like to me. a performance. something you agreed to because it was convenient, because it helped both of us. but it was never real. not to you.”

“that’s not true,” he said quickly, his voice rising. “it’s never been pretend for me, y/n. never.”

“stop lying!” she yelled, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “stop standing there and telling me it was real when you made me feel like nothing more than an obligation. you want to talk about pretending? the only one pretending here is me!”

trent flinched as if her words had physically struck him, his face contorting with hurt. “y/n, that’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“not fair?” she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her. “you want to talk about fair? fair is you being honest with me from the start. fair is you not stringing me along, letting me believe that maybe—just maybe—this was something more than an arrangement.”

“it was more,” he insisted, his voice almost pleading. “it is more.”

she shook her head, her tears spilling freely now. “you don’t get to decide that. you don’t get to say you love me after making me feel like I was disposable.”

“you’re not disposable,” he said firmly, taking a step closer. “you never were.”

then, her words echoed in his mind again: “you made me feel disposable.” and as the phrase rang in his head, it hit him like a wave. “this is casual, right?” his own words. words that had haunted her ever since monaco. it wasn’t just that he had hurt her—it was how he had made her feel. like she was nothing more than a temporary fix, a momentary distraction. disposable.

the realization sent a shockwave through him, the guilt flooding his chest as he replayed that night over and over in his mind. this is casual, right? he had said it so easily, without even considering the weight it would carry for her.

he had always thought she could handle it. thought she was strong enough to keep it together, to play along with the arrangement. but the way her eyes had looked at him after that night—the hurt in them, the way she had withdrawn from him after, had never truly registered until now. he had ignored it all because he was too wrapped up in his own insecurities, in his fear of commitment. and now, he was facing the consequences.

“y/n…” his voice was barely audible, his throat tight with emotion.

she didn’t turn around. she just stood there, her back to him, shoulders hunched in defeat.

why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt?

her words sliced through him. why couldn’t you just tell me?

he had been so afraid to lose her, so afraid of letting her in, that he had never given her the chance to truly see him. to see the man he was when he wasn’t running from his own feelings. and now, he was paying the price.

he took a hesitant step forward, his voice cracking as he spoke again. “y/n, i’m sorry. i didn’t realize how much i hurt you. i didn’t understand… how much that night meant to you, how much i made you feel like… like i didn’t care. i never meant to make you feel disposable. i thought i was protecting the both of us, but all i did was hurt you.”

y/n finally turned to face him, her tear-streaked face a painful reminder of everything that had gone wrong. “you don’t get it, do you?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “that night… that was everything to me. and when you said it was just sex—when you made it clear it meant nothing—it broke me. i gave myself to you, trent. i trusted you. and you made me feel like i wasn’t worth anything more than that.”

trent swallowed hard, his throat tight. “just sex.” how could he have been so blind? how could he have let her believe that?

“i’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice raw with regret. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you’re not disposable, y/n. you’re… you’re the furthest thing from it.”

she shook her head, stepping back as if his words were too much to bear. “you can’t take it back now, trent. you can’t just decide to care when it’s convenient for you. it doesn’t work like that. i can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out. i deserve more than that.”

he felt the finality in her words, the weight of the decision hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. and for the first time, he realized just how badly he had messed up.

“i know i can’t fix this,” he said quietly, the pain in his chest making it hard to breathe. “but i need you to know… i’m sorry. i didn’t know how bad it hurt you. i never meant to make you feel so small, y/n. and i’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove that to you, if you’ll let me.”

she stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for sincerity. but as the silence stretched on, it became clear that the damage had already been done.

“then why?” she demanded, her voice rising again. “why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt? why did you wait until now, in the middle of all this, to say something?”

“because I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “i was scared that if i told you, you’d push me away. that you’d tell me you didn’t feel the same, and i’d lose you completely.”

she stared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to process his words. but the anger and hurt were too overwhelming, drowning out any possibility of understanding.

“well, congratulations,” she said bitterly. “you’ve lost me anyway.”

trent’s face fell, his expression crumbling as her words hit him. “y/n, please,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“no,” she said firmly, her voice steadier now. “this is over, trent. the contract, the arrangement, whatever this was—it’s done.”

“it doesn’t have to be,” he said desperately, his hands reaching for hers again. but she stepped back, putting more distance between them.

“it does,” she said, her tone final. “because i can’t keep pretending that this is enough for me. that you’re enough for me when all you’ve done is hurt me.”

and with that, she walked away, leaving him standing in the wreckage of his own making, knowing he might never be able to fix what he had broken.

trent opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. he stood there, frozen, as y/n turned away from him, her shoulders trembling with the weight of everything she’d been holding in.

and for the first time in his life, trent alexander-arnold could finally see all the ways he had broken her.

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