#but that’s for my therapist to unravel

[dano-or-not]

I have periods every once in a while where I freak out and get sad thinking "oh no Reigen has treated Mob kind of shitty in the past :(". I think it is a byproduct of so much media having their characters be angels who never do something just genuinely shitty and the common "it's better to do nothing wrong than one thing right" mentality. And then I have to fight to get back to the mindset of "yeah he does have flaws. He did try to hold Mob back because of his own insecurities, lied about who he is, didn't appreciate Mob, and had Mob order a smaller portion of ramen than himself. But then he realized that, owned up to it, and made the conscious effort to become the person he is now; the person who would put his life on the line for kids multiple times, the person who helps train for marathons, the person who encourages others to do the right thing, the person who takes friends on vacations, the person who gives people a second chance, the person who often buys his student’s favorite food to share with said student, the person who people can come to with issues they don’t feel comfortable going to anyone else with, the person who cares so much about the little boy who changed his life that he'll do anything to make that little boy love himself even if it means he has to stand back and watch him forge a new path that isn't as deeply interwoven with his own anymore.

But even before the Separate Ways arc, he was an asshole sometimes but not a bad person. He did good things for strangers and friends alike for no reason. He encouraged Mob to be an individual even though doing such directly contradicted why he originally hired Mob, he put his life on the line both with the Claw 7th Division and Mogami for Mob, on jobs he’d lie about what he was doing but still do his damn hardest to solve their problems, he was always on Mob's side, and encouraged the Claw lackeys to be better people, just for example. The biggest part of Mob's development was accepting his powers, and he probably would have stopped using them altogether after hurting Ritsu had Reigen not found a way for him to use them comfortably by setting ground rules and letting using them be something Mob has control over and never pushing for him to use them when he doesn't want to (which he was the only person to do so). And that's why he is one of my favorite characters of all time. and why I can safely agree with Mob that he is genuinely a good guy."

I'm not saying he never did anything wrong and that his mistakes are nonexistent. The point is the opposite. His strengths and goodness can be focused on instead of his flaws because his flaws don't define him and he's grown beyond that. "Yeah, that was a crappy thing for him to do. He made mistakes, just like Mob and Dimple and Ritsu and every single person on the entire planet because all human beings do crappy things and make mistakes. Good thing he apologized, made up for it, and grew up. Now he gets to be silly goofy bff."

What's more important; the fact that he was an asshole, or that he isn't one anymore?

[spaciebabie]

dawg I just had the craziest realization about myself THERAPY IS WORKING!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!

[hishandsshake]

I think I’ve become a little too good at holding it together.

I don’t know how to fall apart effectively anymore.

These are the truest things I’ve said in days. Or is it months?

I don’t want to be inefficient. I don’t want to waste time or effort in making myself heard anymore.

There’s no time no time no time.

I want to do. I want to break into shards in the carpet. I want someone to pick up my pieces and ask them why.

I want to squeeze my palms until I’m whole and my smile no longer says I’m fine

I don’t want to be touched, I want to be disemboweled by the feeling of participating in something small and loved and instinctual and grander than the whole of the cosmos

I want to be cast adrift on a tether made of the same stuff nostalgia and coming home are made of

I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want to participate.

These are the truest things I’ve said in days, and I will deny them all because I am a ghost.

[cloudboba]

am i becoming the person i want to become? am i always going to be losing parts of myself in the process

[saywhat-politics]

Joanne Erickson’s story shows the looming challenges for millions of seniors struggling with health issues, an unforgiving housing market and little or no retirement savings.

When I first met her, Joanne Marie Erickson had not left her apartment in weeks and she was just days away from being evicted from her home of 23 years. She sat on a tattered couch, while her cat Muriel wandered around her cluttered living room. She was alone, overwhelmed. “I think I’m falling apart,” she said.

I had hoped, naively it turns out, that my reporting would be enough to help her get the assistance she needed and find stable housing. But long waitlists, leads that went nowhere and promises of help that went unfilled continually frustrated her efforts.

She was evicted in February and died in May, while homeless, just days short of her 71st birthday. Erickson’s tragic end — homeless despite a lifetime spent caring for others — illustrates the urgent and complex challenge of providing support for aging Americans, many of whom will outlive their savings. For the millions relying solely on Social Security, a modest benefit at best, survival in high-cost cities like Los Angeles can be untenable. Layer on the inevitable decline of the body and, for some, the mind, and the prospect for many older Americans grows even grimmer.

Erickson’s life unraveled steadily for years — and then, after she was evicted, all at once.

When she was in her mid-60s, she left her last steady job as an occupational therapist.

She began falling in public places, at CVS, at the grocery store — her frailty the result of post-polio syndrome, which leads to the weakening of joints and muscles.

She struggled with depression, was unable to keep her home in order and, according to a neighbor, suffered a nervous breakdown early in the pandemic.

Then came the eviction notice. She sat in a Santa Monica courtroom in January, without a lawyer, sick to her stomach, as the judge ruled in favor of her landlord.

[bakugoushotwife]

blessing and curse

summary: yuuji is a wonderful boyfriend...you just wish he was able to fuck you... warnings: post shibuya, aged up duh, yuuji struggles with ptsd, night terrors, as well as anxiety, you both see therapists, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, fem!reader, pet names, (pretty girl, baby, cutie, etc), rough sex. wc: 3k a/n: this is my first yuuji piece nom nom nom i'm actually obsessed and soaking wet tbh i'm thinking thoughts for yuuji.........anyway to my lovely requester i hope you enjoy this <;3 jjk masterlist here

yuuji feels things very intensely. it’s a blessing and a curse, though the latter is more often experienced than the former. guilt, loss, regret–all things that nearly swallowed him whole while he fought for his friends and the people of japan–for the whole world. it’s so hard to be him, to live with what he carries on his shoulders–on his soul. he’s unloveable. he’s the one who caused all of the pain—things would have been easier if he died. there’s a number of people whose lives ended because of and for him. he was only just adjacent to a murderer. months after the fighting ceased and the war was won, he would wake up numerous times through the night with night terrors. he couldn’t even call them nightmares because they weren’t fabrications of his imagination. they were all too real memories that kept making their rounds–reminding him that he would be forever burdened with a layer of hell no one else could claim to know about. 

he met you in the waiting room of his therapist’s office. he remembers seeing you and wondering what you could be talking to his specialist about. it meant you also had to be a sorcerer—clearly he couldn’t see a normal one about his specific traumas and baggage, and apparently neither could you. he remembers not even knowing you and his heart still hurting for the pretty young girl that must be hurting like him. he remembers hoping that you hadn’t been through anything like what he had—the anxious voice in the back of his mind wondering if somehow he caused your pain via sukuna’s rampages or the destruction and death that followed him. he remembers you meeting his eyes on a seemingly unremarkable thursday afternoon, catching him in the middle of one of his staring way too long episodes. you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at him in amusement. 

the rest was easy. you were easy to talk to, to admire, to hold, to love. you made him feel intense things in a good way–in a way he had nearly given up on. his world had slowly become a mixed palette of blacks and whites and muted grays–but your smile brought color back. your touch made vivid purples and yellows; your laughter the brightest of pinks and the most warm oranges. you became the blessing where he was the curse, the savior of a damned man bound to paint on smiles and pretend that sacrificing his soul and everyone he’s ever loved was worth it. now he felt unimaginable comfort and love by getting to know you. his smiles weren’t so fake anymore—and the only things that woke him in the night was losing you. truly the only fear that yuuji itadori has left: cursing his blessing. 

you thought he was the best boyfriend around and an even better man. you’ve slowly but surely unraveled the reason he was visiting the therapist through his eventual opening up to you and telling you just a fraction of what he’s experienced in his life and you can understand his intimacy issues. see…yuuji is easy to love. he’s wonderful, attentive, sweet, careful, strong and chivalrous. but he won’t fuck you. you’re too nervous to push him any further—all too aware of his fears of letting anyone in, of loving and showing that in ways that make you vulnerable. he’s all too conscious of what it would mean—of the danger he would be putting you in.

there’s been many times here lately that you’ve thought that line will finally be crossed—heavy petting and make-outs that get you squirming in his lap and soaking through your panties. it always goes this way, no matter how innocent the two of you try to keep your dates. move night, game night, even cooking together ends up with yuuji’s tongue down your throat and his hands under your shirt. tonight is no different, some youtube video plays in the background—a forgotten video game walkthrough that yuuji had been paying careful attention to until you leaned in to rip it away with those teasing kisses to his jaw. you know exactly what buttons to press after four months of nothing past second base driving you to a point of restlessness. 

you just wanted him to see your perseverance. you would do this for as long as it takes, anything to prove that you’re here to stay. you want to make him comfortable enough to tear those walls down—the ones that make his eyes flutter shut and his hands fist at his pants in order to keep them to himself. his eyes close to will himself to concentrate on something–anything—other than the feeling of your warm lips tracing his pulse, smooth fingers sliding under his shirt to outline the dips and muscles of his torso. it’s not that he doesn’t want to this, he craves you like nothing ever before. your touch is the medicine bringing him back to life, but he can’t allow himself to ruin you—taint you. but as you move into his lap and change your kisses to more intense nips and sucks at his skin, his body betrays his mind. he can feel the blood rush to his cock as your thighs trap him beneath you, and he moans out at the same time you do. the pressure of your clothed cunt sitting against his needy dick has his hands moving before he can tell himself to stop. he grabs your waist, accidentally and automatically rutting up against the friction you offer with a hiss. 

“fuck, cutie.” he groans, your lips covering his parted and pouty ones to keep him from protesting further. his fingers only dig into your side as the two sides of his mind argue with each other. he wants you badly, your body slotted against his perfectly and the way you kiss him like you’re trying to touch his soul drives him crazy. anyone with a girlfriend as hot as you would be a fucking idiot to keep denying himself of her. his hands knead the warm flesh of your body as an instinct, his body knowingly responding to your advances. his tongue slides over yours in a frenzy, his head becoming fuzzy as saliva trails down his chin—something in him telling him to stop when his hands slide upwards to palm your chest. you cry out at the feeling—so starved for his affection that you know you’re soaking wet already. just his rough hands scraping over your sensitive nipples sends you into rutting rhythmic circles of your hips over the tent in his pants, breaking your sloppy kiss in order to remove your shirt fully in a silent show of what you wanted to happen next. 

“aw baby—you know i can’t,” he whines, his lips swollen and even pinker than usual. he drops his hold to your hips, making comforting circles over the bone beneath his grasp. your face drops to instant heartbreak and he can feel his own heart try to rip itself apart for making you so sad. he never thought about how this must affect you, a woman with needs and desires for her boyfriend. he knows this can’t last much longer or he’ll lose you anyway. the room is just a mixture of your heavy breathing and the monotone droning of the tv for a few moments, and then you whine in retaliation, picking up his hand and moving it back to your breast. you search his eyes, seeing the fear flickering in those brown embers of his. you just need to show him there’s nothing to be scared of, that you need him worse than you need the oxygen in this room and would do anything for him today and forever. 

“yuuji,” you gasp out in such a voice that he knows he won’t be able to hold back this time. four months of seeing your body in your cute date outfits and in his shirt after you’ve spent the night; the feeling of your curves under his fingers as he guides you to the safe side of the sidewalk or the swell of your hip as he guides you through the door he’s just opened—four months of draining his balls after he’s sent you home with nothing more than a few wet kisses and tit-squeezes. the way your eyes shine like you’re about to cry if he denies you one last time…it’s too much. “please—i need you,” you breathe out, reaching those gorgeously soft hands out to sweep against his cheeks, to plead with him to be a good boyfriend. he can’t make you suffer any longer—”i need you so bad yuuji, please don’t push me away…i’m your forever girl!” 

oh fuck. he might cum in his pants from hearing that alone. suddenly, silence falls upon his mind. he can only hear the echoes of your cries for him–no more voices in his head arguing about the best way to continue, only you. a guttural groan rips from his throat and he stands with your legs wrapped around his body, a broad hand snaking up your back to keep you pressed against him. you squeal a little at the sudden shift and the deep growl that he let out, his face now devoid of that playful man you’ve come to love. he looks so focused, so serious, his brow furrowed as he looks over your face. 

“i’m sorry i made you wait so long, pretty girl.” he nods, letting your body bounce on the bed as he’s set on immediately removing the remainder of your clothes. he pulls you to the edge, legs dangling over the sides. you almost think it must be too good to be true, sitting up on your elbows to catch a glimpse of that ravenous fire consuming his previously kind eyes. he’s leaned back to peel his own clothes off, but his eyes never leave your body. he looks over your lip pinched between your teeth to your pebbled nipples to the glistening slick coating your inner thighs. he doesn’t even know where to start, but he’s going to ensure that you’re finally taken care of. “i’m a dumbass—thought i was keeping you safer like that.” he mutters, leaning over to kiss the space between your ribcage. he makes his way to your jaw, licking a hungry stripe between your breasts and claiming your neck with bruising nips at the delicate flesh that greeted him. 

you’re set to mewling immediately, the flip switched in your boyfriend making you rub your legs together in anticipation. he chuckles and you can feel him smile against your skin as his hand snakes down to keep you from squirming. he quickly pecks your lips. “m gonna make it up to you now, baby girl.” his eyes are wide, but glazed over with affection. you nod, feeling his strong fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh to keep you from closing them, his abs raking over your sensitive clit as he lowers himself to his knees at the foot of the bed. your face burns as you realize what he’s going to do, but he doesn’t give you time to think about it before turning your mind to mush from the feeling of his fat tongue splitting your lips apart and breaching your tiny hole. he seems pleased by the way you react—back arching off the bed and hands gripping at the sheets from the surprising burn. it’s a good burn, the kind you’ve been craving for the months you’ve been with a man who loves you like he does, your wanton moans just cementing that his choice was the right one. he’s growing addicted to this already; your flavor on his tongue, your moans echoing in his ears and your thighs pressing in to the sides of his face. he feels your silky walls clamp down on his tongue, making his eyes roll back at the thought of putting his dick in something so tight. he slurps at the arousal slipping out, sliding his tongue to the hardened bud waiting at the top of your cunt. he wraps his tongue around your clit, making you jolt at the sudden increase in sensation. it’s amazing—goosebumps prickle out over your skin and you reach down to tug at the silky pink locks woven between your fingers. you can feel every nerve running through your body and how it builds with a fiery pleasure that you know only yuuji can give you. “oh my god—yuuji!” you cry out as that pleasure mounts to a tipping point. his teeth scrape against your hood to encourage you to fall over that line so he can see what he’s been denying you of for four achingly long months. 

you make the sweetest face when you cum, it has him closing a fist around his own dick to calm himself—the promise of having your pussy making him jerk at his own touch. you even sound so pretty as you shatter, legs jerking and your grip on his hair yanking almost painfully hard. it only makes yuuji smile wider, feeling a bubbly sense of satisfaction ripple in his own gut from making you feel so good. 

“nngh, yuuji–” you whine, your vision returning to normal after a few seconds of respite. he’s already pushing you back to the pillows, manhandling you into the bent position he wanted. you’re on your back, knees by your ears and a boyfriend giving you no time to be anxious about the angry and leaky horsecock sliding through your folds. you thought he was a sweet man, and maybe he still is–but his own excitement to have you has him forgetting his normal chivalrous behavior. “fuck–yuuji!” you claw at his biceps, fighting against that true splitting burn. his tongue was nothing compared to the girth he pierces you with—and he’s smiling so tenderly at your wiggling and struggling. 

“s’okay, cutie. you can take it, you’re already taking it!! didn’t you ask me to?” he raises a brow, face flashing with mock-confusion as your hands shove at his chest, all in an effort to get used to the feeling of him inside you. his thumb brushes your cheek, his other hand keeping the back of your thigh shoved back. “nyeh—you begged me! come on pretty girl–you gotta loosen up!” he laughs airily, moving the hand from your face back down to pinch and roll your aching clit. you jump at first, the touch sending another jolt of pleasure circulating to your brain–and then you relax enough for him to move. he’s got you folded in such a way that you can hardly breathe–or maybe that’s from how he slams into you recklessly, tip catching on your poor, innocent, cervix each time. it hurts, it burns everywhere—but it’s the best feeling in the world. his breathing grows ragged once he settled into a pace, brutally slamming into you in a way that led you to believe he wasn’t doing this on accident. 

soon, your hands around his biceps slip to your sides, eyes lulling into a pleasure-induced haze. you watch him, the twitch of his nose and the way his hair gets curly once it sticks to his forehead from his sweat. he’s perfect, and he’s finally giving you all of himself, really devoting himself to you, conquering any fear. you don’t mind if you’ll be bedridden for the next week—feeling his heavy cock in your chest from how hard he ruts into you—it would be well worth it to hear his grunts and whimpers of satisfaction, to feel the bruising grip he has on your body like he’s afraid you might disappear. it’s all so good, and exactly like you craved. “there she goes—takin’ it like a champ now!” he cheers you on, panting a little as he leans over your body and grabs the headboard, deepening his angle as if he wasn’t already fucking you brainless. 

the new angle makes your jaw drop in absolute earth-shattering bliss. you two could be the only people left on earth and you would never know—to consumed in yuuji itadori to notice anything else. you’re back to pawing at his chest, the coil in your gut building rapidly as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. you wanted everything, he’ll make sure he gives you everything. the headboard creaks, the bed moans with you and you truly do worry he might break it for a split second–but his broken moan of your name swallows up any wandering thoughts. a bead of sweat slides down the slope of his nose before it drops onto your cheek, the evidence of his hardwork. he moans your name again, warning you that the end was approaching. you nod as he moves your legs to his shoulders, leaning as close as possible to wrap you in his arms and kiss you in short, desperate bursts. he treasures you more than he thought possible, that look you give him right before your eyes roll back into your head from your orgasm makes his own dick jump within your vice-grip of a cunt. you make that sweet face again, a face he knows he’s hooked on—your pussy spasming around him to welcome his fat load gets him to make his own kind of special and beautiful face, lip between his teeth and adam’s apple bobbing at the same pace his balls slap into your backside. you swear you can feel his heart beating, his lungs filling and emptying as he flattens his chest to yours and fills your guts with his loving cum. he keeps thrusting even after he’s done, just watching your face contort and shift, your body bouncing in his arms. he likes the ache of overstimluation, and loves the way you mewl and hug him, eyes all sleepy and far away. 

“that’s it, you did it, so so good.” he praises in a soft tone, kissing your lips and then your nose and then your forehead with equal adoration. “can’t believe i kept us from feeling like that!” he shakes his head, kissing your cheeks to continue showering you in his love if not to keep you awake. he sits back up and slides out of you, quickly snatching his t-shirt up to catch the spillage. it’s hot, watching his seed trickle from your abused pussy—he whines a little at the sight, puppy dog eyes flickering over your body as if to wonder if you could take another round…

now that you’ve gotten him to start, you may never get him to stop.

[hjvi]

𝙉𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙞𝙖

Pairing: Bf!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Chris breaks your heart, you revisit your most cherished memories with him in therapy, trying to understand what made you love him—and why it all fell apart.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Heartbreak. Angst.

Word Count: 8.4k

The sterile smell of the therapist’s office clung to the air, an odd mix of cleanliness and something far too clinical. It was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock hanging on the pale blue wall. I sat on the couch, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, gripping a tissue in one hand and twisting it nervously with my fingers. My therapist, Dr. Callahan, sat across from me in her chair, her expression warm but slightly firm, like she was waiting for me to unravel a ball of string I’d been clutching for weeks.

I stared at the floor, avoiding her eyes. We’d been doing this for weeks now—me, showing up, talking about anything but him. The sessions felt like a game of tug-of-war with my own mind, each side pulling harder but neither winning. The mere thought of saying his name out loud made my chest tighten, my breath quicken, and tears spring to my eyes.

Dr. Callahan sighed gently. "I notice we always seem to steer away from talking about Chris. And I’m not saying we need to dive into that, but I do want to talk about how you're managing your anxiety. It seems like it’s flaring up more than usual.”

That was an understatement. My anxiety had been suffocating, like being stuck in a maze I couldn’t navigate. And the pills—the little pills that kept my head above water—were sitting on Chris’s nightstand.

“I, um...” I swallowed hard. “I haven’t been taking my meds.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“They’re... they’re at Chris’s house,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. My throat burned as tears threatened to spill over, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold them back. “I can’t go there. I can’t face him.”

She nodded slowly, leaning forward. “Okay. Let’s unpack this together. How are you feeling after the breakup?”

And there it was—the question I’d been running from. My breath hitched, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “Horrible,” I croaked. “I—I can’t even think about him without crying. I can’t do anything without—”

The tears came faster now, and I wiped at them with the crumpled tissue in my hand. “I haven’t been eating. I haven’t been sleeping. Everything just feels... pointless. Without him, nothing makes me happy. Nothing feels right. It’s like... my life is worthless without him.”

Dr. Callahan’s voice was calm, soothing. “Why do you feel like your life is worth nothing without Chris? What is it about him, about your relationship, that makes you feel this way?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “It’s... everything,” I said finally. “The way he made me feel. The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world. He made me laugh. He made me feel safe. Every good memory I have—it’s all with him.”

Dr. Callahan nodded again, her eyes steady on mine. “Okay. Let’s start there. Let’s talk about those memories. Let’s figure out what made them special, what brought you joy, so we can help you find that again in your life—even without Chris.”

I nodded slowly, my chest aching. “The first time I met him... that’s where it all started.”

The First Time I Met Him

The quiet hum of Nick’s desk lamp filled the space as I sat cross-legged on his carpet, flipping through my notes for our school project. His room was simple, with posters of bands tacked up on the walls and a faint smell of cologne lingering in the air. Nick sat across from me, scrolling through his laptop.

“You think this is enough to get us through the presentation?” I asked, holding up a neatly written outline.

Nick shrugged. “Probably. You’re, like, way more organized than me.”

I laughed softly and was about to reply when the sharp sound of a door slamming echoed through the house, followed by two unmistakably loud voices. My head snapped up.

“Bro, are you serious? That ref was blind!” one of the voices exclaimed, frustration dripping from his words.

“Blind? You literally tripped the guy, Chris,” the other retorted, their footsteps stomping closer with each passing second.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Nick. He rolled his eyes. “Ignore them. My brothers are... loud.”

Before I could ask, the bedroom door flew open, and in came two boys dressed in hockey gear, their faces slightly flushed from the cold. One of them, with dark brown hair and an easy smirk, was clearly mid-argument. The other, though, caught my attention instantly.

He was tall and lean, with tousled, medium-length brown hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times after practice. His striking blue eyes, full of energy and mischief, darted around the room before locking on mine. Time seemed to pause.

“Oh,” he said, the word barely audible as his jaw slackened slightly. His entire demeanor shifted in a split second—gone was the loud, restless energy from before. Instead, he straightened his posture, his hand awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks flushed just enough to be noticeable.

Nick groaned. “Chris, get out. We’re working.”

Chris didn’t move. His gaze was still on me, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

Finally, I broke the silence, offering a small smile. “Hi.”

Chris blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Uh—hi! I mean, hey. What’s up?” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced before clearing his throat. “I’m Chris.”

Nick sighed, clearly annoyed. “She’s here for the project, Chris. Go bother Matt or something.”

But Chris ignored him, a grin creeping onto his face. “What’s your name?”

I told him, feeling my cheeks heat under his intense gaze. His smile widened, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly trying to seem casual. “That’s a really pretty name,” he said, his Boston accent thick and unfiltered.

“Chris, seriously,” Nick cut in, standing up to shove his brother toward the door. “Out.”

Chris didn’t leave without a fight. He grabbed Nick’s arm, dragging him just outside the room. I could still hear their voices, though they were slightly muffled.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a girl like her here?” Chris whisper-yelled, his tone laced with urgency.

Nick groaned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean! She’s—” Chris’s voice dropped slightly, as if trying to be quieter, but I could still make out his words. “She’s gorgeous.”

My face burned, and I stared down at my notebook, pretending not to hear.

Nick re-entered the room, looking both amused and exasperated. “Sorry about him. He thinks you’re, like, a goddess or something.”

I glanced up, meeting Nick’s teasing gaze. “What?” I asked, though the warmth in my cheeks betrayed me.

Nick laughed. “Chris has a massive crush on you already. Don’t let it go to his head.”

The sound of Chris and Matt bickering down the hall faded into the background as I tried to process everything. I didn’t know what to make of it—this boy I’d just met, with his loud laugh and dazzling blue eyes, who somehow managed to make my heart race without even trying.

First Time You Held Hands The Awkward Spark

It started out as nothing. A quick, careless movement, nothing intentional. But the second Chris’s hand brushed against mine, I felt it. A spark, sudden and completely unexpected, shot through me like static. I froze, my hand hovering in midair, unsure if I should pull away or leave it there. I hadn’t meant to linger, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him. His fingers were still close enough to mine that the space between us seemed almost too big to ignore.

Chris, as always, was oblivious to the effect he was having on me. He kept talking, gesturing wildly about something—probably sports or something equally loud and energetic—but I couldn’t focus on the words. My thoughts were tangled in the way his hand had touched mine so casually. So naturally.

I could feel the warmth of his skin where it had brushed against mine, and for a second, I wondered if he felt the same thing I did.

“Yo,” he said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “Did you hear me?”

I blinked, trying to pull myself back into the moment. “Uh… yeah?”

He grinned, flashing that carefree smile of his, but there was something different in his eyes. Something softer. A shift that made my heart beat a little faster.

“You’re spaced out, huh?” he teased, nudging me with his elbow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Nothing.”

His grin widened, and that was when I realized he was still really close—closer than I’d thought. He moved again, shifting his weight on the couch beside me, and this time, his fingers brushed against mine again. But this time, they lingered. Just for a second. Long enough that it didn’t feel like an accident.

I froze again, my heart thumping in my chest. I could feel the warmth of his hand, just a breath away from mine. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous too, but there was an undeniable energy between us now.

Then, as if he could sense my hesitation, Chris turned to face me fully, his expression suddenly serious, but there was a nervousness to it that I hadn’t expected. “You good?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was actually asking and not just making conversation.

I nodded, though I was sure he could tell something was off. “Yeah, just…” I trailed off, unsure how to put into words what I was feeling.

He leaned in a bit, his voice dropping a little. “I’m not gonna bite,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You can relax, you know?”

His hand shifted closer to mine again, and this time, before I could think about it, I gently placed my hand in his. The moment my fingers curled around his, something clicked—like everything I’d been unsure about, all the nervous energy that had been circling around us, suddenly made sense. His hand fit mine so easily, like it was meant to be there. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by something warmer, softer.

We didn’t say anything for a while. There was no need. The contact, the feeling of his hand in mine, was enough to fill the space between us. He didn’t squeeze my hand too tight, but his grip was firm enough to tell me he wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t going anywhere. And for a moment, I forgot about everything else—the confusion, the tension, the anxiety that had followed me around for weeks. It was just me and him. Just this.

I glanced up at him, and when our eyes met, I saw it—something that wasn’t there before. It was a little spark, a little light, and I could tell it wasn’t just me feeling it. He didn’t look away, just held my gaze, his thumb lightly tracing circles over my palm, sending a new kind of warmth through me.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice low, but his smile still there, softening the words.

I nodded, and I don’t think I could’ve smiled any wider. “Yeah. I’m good.”

For the first time in a long time, I really was.

I sat in Dr. Callahan’s office, tracing the edge of the couch with my finger, still unable to meet her eyes. The quiet hum of the room made my thoughts feel louder, but I kept going.

“I remember the first time he kissed me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t like how I’d imagined it—like a movie or something dramatic. It was just... us.”

She leaned in slightly, her calm, steady voice guiding me. “Tell me about it. What was it like for you?”

I closed my eyes, letting the memory come rushing back, the way it always did when I thought of him.

First Time He Kissed You The Moment the World Stopped

The air was thick with anticipation, like a storm on the verge of breaking, as you both sat there in the quiet of his room. The soft glow of the lamp cast a gentle warmth over everything, making the atmosphere feel cozy, intimate. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, but everything inside felt suspended, as if time had slowed down just for this moment.

Chris was close, so close that you could feel his presence like a magnetic force, pulling you in without a word. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time, you noticed how his eyes had shifted. The usual playful glint was still there, but underneath it was something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. It made your heart beat faster, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside you.

You both sat in silence, the tension between you building with every passing second. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on you, making your skin flush.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “Are you sure about this?” His words were soft, uncertain, as if he was asking for permission.

You swallowed, your throat dry, your heart pounding. There were no words, nothing more to be said. It was a question that needed no answer. Instead, you just nodded, your eyes not leaving his. In that moment, everything else faded away—the thoughts, the doubts, the worries. All that was left was him.

Chris didn’t need any more encouragement. His hand, which had been resting at his side, moved up slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face, his touch light but purposeful. He seemed to be studying you, as if memorizing every detail before he closed the distance between you. His thumb traced your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, without another word, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, as if you both were testing the waters. His lips were soft, and the warmth of them against yours made everything else in the room seem far away. You could taste the faint mint on his breath, feel the gentle pressure of his mouth as he leaned in a little deeper. It was everything—sweet, tender, and oh so careful.

His hand, still on your face, cupped your cheek, the warmth of his palm grounding you in the moment. You felt his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer. Your heart raced, your breath coming in shallow bursts, and you couldn’t help but respond, your lips moving against his with growing confidence.

He let out a soft, barely audible groan between the kisses, a sound so low, so raw, it made your entire body shiver in response. The sound of it sent a spark straight through you, igniting something deep inside. You felt the shift in his kiss, from gentle to hungry, as if he was searching for something deeper—something that only you could give him.

His hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your throat, sending heat radiating through your body. You felt his breath hitch as his lips parted slightly, his mouth moving with more urgency against yours.

Every kiss felt like a spark, igniting a flame inside you that you didn’t know you had. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, a silent question, a request, and you parted your lips, meeting him halfway. The kiss deepened, slower now, but with an intensity that left you breathless. The sensation of his lips on yours was intoxicating, every touch electrifying, and your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

His hands roamed, exploring the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together with a force that made your heart ache. You could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, the way his body seemed to match yours in every movement. Each kiss was like a promise, each breath shared between you was another step deeper into something you couldn’t name but didn’t want to escape.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get more intense, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. You both gasped for air, your faces inches apart, your breath mingling in the space between. His lips were swollen, slightly parted, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. That familiar mischievous glint was back in his eyes, but it was softer now, more intimate.

“Damn,” he whispered, voice rough from the kiss. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

You laughed softly, still caught in the aftershocks of the kiss, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Yeah, me too,” you breathed, your fingers still resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, you just stayed there, your foreheads touching, both of you savoring the silence, the stillness of the moment. And in that silence, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something far deeper.

First Time He Wrote You Something

It wasn’t like Chris to do something so... thoughtful. He was always the one to crack a joke or do something spontaneous to make me laugh, but this? This was different.

It started out like any other day. We’d spent hours texting, trading stupid jokes and sending each other random things we found online. But then, a few hours later, I got a message from him that wasn’t like the rest.

“Check your mailbox.”

I stared at my phone, confused. What was he talking about? It was late, and we hadn’t talked about anything that would involve a physical letter. But curiosity tugged at me, and I figured I’d humor him.

I grabbed my jacket and headed outside, my mind swirling with questions I didn’t have answers to yet. The walk to the mailbox felt like an eternity, the cold air stinging my skin as I opened the metal box and found... a single, folded sheet of paper.

I pulled it out, trying to ignore how my hands were shaking slightly. Unfolding it, I saw his handwriting, neat but still unmistakably his. The words weren’t rushed, but carefully placed, like he’d taken the time to write this with purpose. I could feel something catch in my throat as I began to read.

Hey,

I’m not great at saying this stuff, but I need you to know. I’ve been thinking about you more than I probably should. When I’m with you, everything just makes sense. You don’t know it, but you’ve got this way of making everything lighter. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anyone but myself, and that’s not something I can say about a lot of people.

I don’t know what I’m doing with this, but I guess I just want you to know... I like you. A lot. And I’m not sure where this is going, but I’m in it. I just wanted you to know that.

Chris

I stood there, the paper pressed against my chest, not sure what to do with myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t know he liked me, but hearing it like this, reading it in his words, felt different. It felt real. It felt like something I wasn’t quite ready for, but something I also couldn’t ignore.

I laughed, almost nervously, at how my heart seemed to speed up, the way my chest felt tight, like there was something big happening in my life, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to admit it.

I stuffed the note into my pocket, trying to act normal, but the reality of what it meant settled in a few minutes later. This wasn’t just some fling or casual thing for Chris. He’d put himself out there, and I couldn’t ignore that.

First Time He Called Me His

It was late afternoon, and the park was full of life. A mix of families, groups of friends, and people just lounging around, enjoying the last rays of sun before it dipped below the horizon. Chris and I had been hanging out all day, tossing a frisbee back and forth with some of his friends, laughing and joking around like we always did. The energy was contagious, and everyone around us seemed to be in the same carefree, easygoing vibe.

I had just finished taking a swig from my water bottle, wiping the sweat from my brow as I stood off to the side to catch my breath. The heat of the day had been intense, but the evening breeze was starting to cool everything down. I was leaning against the tree, watching Chris and his friends make stupid jokes and just goofing off, and honestly, I couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the way he threw himself into everything—whether it was the game or just hanging out—that made it impossible not to feel alive in the moment.

I was about to head over to join them when one of his friends made a comment. It was a harmless joke, but the second it came out of his mouth, he turned to me with a mischievous grin.

“Yo, Chris, how’s it feel to have such a hot girl with you all the time? Bet she's always making you look good, huh?”

Chris laughed in his signature loud, carefree way, but then, without missing a beat, he shot back, not at all embarrassed to let everyone hear him.

“That’s my girl, yeah? Of course she makes me look good.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, made my heart jump in my chest. His tone was playful, but there was an undeniable edge of pride to it. He didn’t even pause to think about it. He didn’t shy away from owning it, letting his friends know that I wasn’t just some girl in the group. I was his.

For a moment, everything around me froze. The world kept turning—the laughter, the noise, the frisbee flying through the air—but all I could hear was the confidence in his voice. I could feel a warmth rush to my face, and I couldn’t help but look at him, meeting his eyes for just a moment. He was grinning at me, that teasing smirk on his lips, but I could tell by the way his eyes softened that he was serious.

The whole exchange had lasted maybe three seconds, but in that short window, I felt a surge of warmth wash over me. Not from embarrassment or pride, but from the reassurance of knowing he was proud to call me his. There was no hesitation in his voice, no second thoughts. Just a simple, confident statement, like he was stating a fact everyone should know. I belonged to him in the most genuine, affectionate way possible.

I chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the unexpected feeling of being exposed, but my heart was still racing. It wasn’t a dramatic, over-the-top moment. It wasn’t some grand gesture or a public declaration of love. It was just him, casually stating it in front of his friends, so easily, without needing to make it a big deal. But it meant everything to me.

I could see that his friends had gone back to their own banter, but I stood there for a moment longer, looking at Chris as if he’d just given me something no one else could ever take away. The breeze lifted the strands of my hair, and I felt, for the first time in a long while, like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Chris walked over, tossing his frisbee back to his friend with one hand, and then, just as he passed by me, his arm casually slid around my shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his breath brushing against my ear, “that’s my girl.”

The words hung in the air, and I felt them settle deep inside my chest, a quiet claim of ownership that made me feel more seen, more special than I could ever have imagined. I smiled to myself as he pulled me closer, and though the sun was starting to set, I could swear the world had never felt warmer.

Dr. Callahan was quiet for a moment, letting me sit with the memory, but I could feel his gaze on me. His voice broke through the stillness. "It sounds like that was a really powerful moment for you. The confidence Chris showed, the way you felt... secure, loved. It’s understandable why that would stick with you."

I nodded, tapping my fingers against my knee. I could almost still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, hear the laughter of his friends in the background, but those feelings were starting to blur, slipping into the recesses of my mind like water sinking into the sand.

"Yeah..." I murmured, more to myself than to him. "It was... easy, you know? It was simple. And I guess that's what makes it hurt now. Because it felt so secure. Like, I didn’t have to question it."

The room felt suddenly too quiet. I felt like I was speaking into the stillness, but it wasn’t just the room that was silent. It was the memory—one that had been so vivid a second ago—now starting to fade, like it was being replaced by something else. Something else that felt like it needed to be said, or maybe something that I wanted to remember next.

The shift was subtle at first. A slight tension in my chest, like a thread was being pulled in my brain, unraveling a different memory. One that felt like it belonged to the same day. It was almost like I could feel it coming, the next scene playing in my mind like a movie that had just begun its second act. The shift in the air, the change in the temperature of the room—like I was leaving behind the warmth of the park for something different, something that wasn’t quite as clear.

The time he took my virginity

The room was soft with dim lighting, the kind that made everything feel more intimate, more sacred. The quiet hum of the outside world faded as I lay there, my heart racing in my chest, but I wasn’t afraid. I trusted him more than anything—Chris was my anchor, the one person who made me feel safe, loved, and cherished. And now, as I looked into his eyes, I knew that this moment was something we would share, something precious.

“Are you sure, baby?” His voice was a gentle whisper, full of care, full of concern. He was looking at me like I was something so fragile, and in that moment, I knew he was never going to hurt me. “We’ll take it slow, doll. I’ll guide you, okay? You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.”

I nodded, my breath shaky, but I felt his warmth surrounding me, giving me the courage to be vulnerable with him. “I trust you,” I whispered, my voice so quiet, but he heard me, and I could see the tenderness in his eyes.

Chris smiled, that soft, reassuring smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. “Good girl,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead, then my nose, and finally, pressing his lips gently to mine. His kiss was slow, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every inch of me. It made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

He pulled away just enough to look at me, his eyes filled with something so sweet and so full of love. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, his voice soft but firm. “Just relax, okay? Let me do all the work.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at his words. His soothing tone, the way he was speaking to me like I was the most precious thing in the world, melted away any lingering doubt. He wasn’t rushing, never rushing. Everything about him, from the way his hands brushed against my skin to the way he kissed me, was so slow, so deliberate, making sure I was okay every step of the way.

His hands, warm and steady, began to move over me gently. As he started to ease my jeans down, his fingers grazed my skin, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his touch all over my body. I tried to steady myself, but the nerves still lingered. I covered my mouth to stifle the noise of discomfort, and I could feel my heart pound faster.

“100%?” He asked, eyes searching yours for an answer. You smiled, nodding as you placed your hand over his. “100%.”

That was all the confirmation he needed, quickly resuming your kiss as his hands worked on removing his jeans and boxers, hastily pulling down your underwear after. He’d had half a mind to pull you to your bedroom, he knew where it was after spending the night in your apartment a many times, but the way you whined against his lips made him hoist you up, hands on the underside of your thighs as you wrapped your legs tight around his hips. 

The wall felt cool against your skin, but all you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of his cock sliding against your folds, the slick sound of your arousal coating his skin making you blush. He pushed himself against you, securing you against the bedframe as he moved his hand from the underside of your thigh, guiding his cock into your waiting cunt. The accompanying stretch made you sigh, eyes fluttering as he began slowly rocking his hips, wanting to give you a few moments to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

Chris’s expression faltered for a moment when he saw my hand over my mouth, but he didn’t miss a beat. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice low but soothing. “It’s okay, baby. The pain won’t last long, I promise,” he whispered. “Just breathe with me, alright? I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’ll take care of you.”

I nodded into his shoulder, the words comforting me as I tried to relax. My body still felt tense, and I couldn’t hold back the small noises slipping past my lips. I bit down on his shoulder, trying to distract myself from the pain, but I could feel myself biting harder as he slowly went deeper.

Chris noticed immediately, his gaze softening with concern. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, his hand gently lifting my chin from his shoulder. His touch was so tender, so caring, as he guided my face to look at him. “Don’t be shy, okay? Let your noises out. I want to hear you. You don’t need to hold back with me, doll. You’re doing so good.”

His voice was full of warmth, and the gentle praise in his words made me feel a sense of comfort, of reassurance. He kissed me again, this time, softer than before, like he was savoring the moment, reassuring me that everything was okay.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re amazing. I know this is hard, but I’m so proud of you. Let go, okay? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands were so gentle as they massaged my lower abdomen, and I felt my body slowly starting to relax into his touch. His kisses, soft and sweet, trailed down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. Every little noise that escaped my lips only made him praise me more, each word full of love and tenderness.

“See, baby? It’s so beautiful when you let go,” he murmured, his lips brushing over my collarbone, where I loved to feel his touch. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Don’t be embarrassed, okay? You’re perfect”

“This alright?” He asked, voice strained as his hands clutched your thigh and hip. You could only nod in response, hands flush against his back as he thrusted up into you. He felt like heaven, his body so close to yours that each roll of his hips caused your clit to brush against his lower stomach, providing much-needed friction along with the feeling of his cock rutting inside of you. 

You could hear his breath catch in his throat whenever you’d clench around him, fingertips grasping your flesh with enough ferocity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your skin the day after. He trailed his lips along your throat, sucking love bites into the soft skin as he fucked himself into you, smiling against your throat whenever he’d draw a moan from you. 

He pressed against me again, his movements slow, ensuring that I felt every inch of his care. His lips traced over my skin, leaving soft, feather-light kisses, and with each movement, he made sure to check in with me. “I’m right here, baby. We’re taking this slow. You’re amazing. Just relax, and let me love you.”

As he eased a little deeper, I felt the pressure of him there, and despite the discomfort, the warmth of his touch made everything feel safer. He noticed the way I bit down on his shoulder again and, gently, pulled my jaw from him.

He pulled me closer, his hand gently cupping my face and brushing away a stray tear. He wiped the sweat from my brow, pushing stray strands of hair from my face with such tenderness, his touch like a balm.

“Where does it hurt, baby?” Chris asked, his voice full of concern and love. He rubbed my lower abdomen gently, his touch slow and comforting. “Tell me where it hurts, doll. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The pain in my stomach was dull but persistent, and his gentle touch only made me feel safer. “It’s here,” I whispered, still pressing my mouth into his shoulder, trying to keep the noise in.

Chris’s hand continued to rub my lower abdomen softly, his touch slow and comforting. “I’ve got you, baby. Just breathe with me, okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re doing so good, doll. You’re my girl, and I’m so lucky to be with you.”

“Baby, don’t be shy. Let it out, okay? You don’t need to hold back,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. He placed my hand over my lower abdomen and pressed it gently down, guiding me to feel just how far we’d come. “You took almost all of it” he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. “We’ll take it slow. I promise you, the pain will stop soon. Just one more time, and we’ll be through it, alright? You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you.”

His words were like a balm to my nerves, his gentle praise soothing my every fear. The way he held me, his every touch full of love, made everything feel so much better. I felt my body start to relax again, his soft words and careful touch giving me the courage to let go and trust him completely.

“Just a little longer, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine.

Every time I let out a small noise, whether it was a shaky breath or a soft wince, his dick would twitch. “You sound so pretty.” He whispered, words followed by a soft grunt as his pace picked up a notch, your movements against the wall causing a series of barely audible thuds to echo throughout your living room. “You feel so good.”

His words came out hushed, always interrupted by a whine or a moan that he tried to hide in the crook of your neck. Every noise you heard from him went straight to your cunt, causing you to squeeze around him as you felt your orgasm budding in your lower stomach. Your thighs tightened around his hips, heels subtly digging into his skin as you rolled your hips to meet his movements. 

he murmured, kissing me softly.

He continued to move, slow and steady, his hands never leaving my body as he guided me through it. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered again, his voice filled with pride. “So good"

His kisses continued, soft and comforting, and with every reassuring word, every gentle touch.

I smiled into the kiss, a small, shaky thing, but it was real. It felt so good to be loved like this, to be held with so much care, so much tenderness. I couldn’t speak yet, the emotions and the sensations overwhelming me, but I repeated his name, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Chris...”

“I know, I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice so soft, so soothing. He kissed my forehead, his hands still moving over me, tender and patient. He was giving me space to feel everything, to adjust to him at my own pace.

His touch was everywhere, a steady presence on my body that made me feel cherished, loved, and safe. As his hand moved to gently massage my lower abdomen, I felt my body responding, but in a way I couldn’t express with words. I reached down, guiding his hand to where I needed him most, the place where I would feel good, where my body craved his touch.

Chris’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t need words to understand what I was asking for. “You’re perfect, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride. “I love that you know what you need. I’m here with you, okay? I’m right here.”

I whispered his name again, this time with a soft, breathless smile on my lips, “Chris…” I make a weak attempt to continue my previous sentence.

“Oh, fuck-“ He whispered, eyebrows furrowing together as your hips moved with his, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. He placed open-mouthed kisses along your throat, each kiss intercepted by a whine or whimper of your name. Your fingers dug into the muscles lining his back, head rolling back to rest against the wall. 

“I’m gonna cum-“ You murmured, words near slurred as your cunt spasmed around his cock. A strangled moan fell from his lips at the feeling of you coming undone around him, his pace faltering for mere seconds as he tried his best to keep himself upright, legs practically shaking from the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around him. 

He fucked you through your orgasm, whispering words of praise as he chased his own. You threaded your fingers through his hair, subtly grasping onto the strands as he rutted into you. He seemed to like the feeling, face contorting into one of pure pleasure as he came inside of you. His hips stuttered with each wave of his orgasm, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he grunted through the feeling. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, filling you full of his cum. 

You kissed his cheek and jaw, catching your breath all the while. You couldn’t help but smile against his damp skin, loving the way he still held you in his arms even through his orgasm. A soft laugh bubbled past your lips as you tilted your head back to look up at him. 

In the end, I was breathless, my body aching in the most beautiful way. As he held me close, his hands gently tracing over my skin, I felt completely at ease, completely safe.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice shaky but sincere, my heart full of him.

Chris kissed me softly, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I love you, baby. So much,” he whispered, his voice warm and comforting, like a blanket I could wrap myself in forever.

And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be. Safe in his arms, loved and cherished beyond measure, and I could feel my heart swell with love for him in return.

The night he promised forever

It was a night that felt like it belonged in a movie. Everything was perfect—the soft lighting from the street lamps, the cool breeze in the air, and the way I felt as I walked into the room, completely transformed. I’d spent hours getting ready, making sure my outfit was just right. The soft fabric of my dress hugged my curves perfectly, and my hair, usually more casual, was styled into gentle waves that made me feel a little more glamorous than usual.

And then there was Chris. The look on his face when he saw me for the first time that night—it was pure awe. His eyes widened, mouth falling open as he looked at me, barely able to speak. "Baby," he breathed, "you... you look unbelievable."

I smiled softly, trying to act calm, but inside I was a mess of butterflies. "Thanks, Chris," I said, giving a little twirl to show off the dress.

Chris didn’t even try to hide how his gaze followed me, his lips curling into a grin that was almost too proud to be real. He chuckled, shaking his head, trying to play it off. "God, you’re so beautiful. I’m actually losing it right now." He stepped closer to me, placing his hands on my waist. "I don’t think I can even look at you anymore tonight or I might just—" He stopped, shaking his head again with a mischievous grin. "Never mind."

I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully, and then we were off. The date had all the right vibes—casual and sweet, with just enough energy to keep everything exciting. After a cozy dinner, we ended up at the ice cream shop, Chris already making jokes about how he was going to spoil me with whatever flavor I wanted. I picked vanilla, my favorite, and Chris got his usual mint chocolate chip.

Sitting on the bench outside, enjoying our ice cream, Chris couldn’t help but tease me every chance he got. His eyes were practically locked on my lips, and I could tell his mind was racing. When I got a little ice cream on the tip of my nose, his face lit up. Without even thinking, he leaned over, his lips gently brushing my nose to kiss the ice cream away.

He pulled back with a smirk, looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world. "Mmm, vanilla, huh?" he said, voice dropping lower. "Reminds me of what I want to taste from you tonight."

My heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, I pushed his face away teasingly, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck. "Chris! Stop," I giggled, pushing him back playfully, but I couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran down my spine from his words.

Chris, unfazed, just laughed softly and leaned in to kiss me again, this time on my cheek. "I’m just sayin’, doll, you look too good tonight. It’s driving me crazy."

I smiled, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, especially with how his eyes were scanning me like he was trying to memorize every inch of me. Chris was always so sweet and gentle, but there was a side of him that was so much more intense when he wanted something. He kissed my cheek softly, then my jaw, and whispered in my ear, "Can’t wait for tonight, baby. I can already picture it. You in my bed with your thighs squeezing my face... God, that thought is driving me wild."

I gasped, pushing him away again, laughing but feeling my heart race. "Chris, you’re impossible!" But there was no hiding the fact that I loved his words, even if they made me feel nervous.

"Come on, don’t be shy, baby," he said softly, his hands reaching for mine, gently intertwining his fingers with mine. "You know I’m always gentle with you. I just love teasing you... You make me want you so bad." His voice was soft and warm, but there was a sincerity in it that made my stomach flutter.

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling all the tension melt away. His hand gently brushed through my hair, and in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just him, me, and the promise of a night where everything between us felt just right. He was sweet, tender, and always knew just how to make me feel special—even when he was making dirty jokes or teasing me endlessly.

"I just wanna take care of you, baby," he whispered, pulling me close as we continued to laugh and smile. "You’re perfect in every way. Don’t forget that."

I looked up at him, feeling my heart full of affection. "I won’t, Chris. I promise." And that promise was sealed with another soft kiss from him, one that made me forget everything else in the world but him.

Forever without me

The room spins as you stumble into the apartment, your arm draped over Chris’s shoulder for balance. Your feet barely manage to keep up with his steady steps as he guides you inside, his hand resting protectively on your waist.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you some water,” Chris murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re gonna feel like crap if you don’t.”

You giggle, your words slurred as you sway against him. “I don’t need water. I need... I don’t know what I need.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head as he helps you toward the couch. “Well, I know what you need, doll, and it’s water. Trust me.”

He sets you down gently, brushing the hair out of your face as you blink up at him with a hazy smile. “You’re so... pretty, Chris,” you mumble, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips curve into a soft smile, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “I’m the lucky one, baby. Now sit tight, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen, your head lolling against the couch as your eyelids grow heavy. When he returns with a glass of water, he kneels in front of you, holding it out.

“Drink,” he coaxes, his tone gentle but firm. “Just a few sips, m’kay?”

You pout, pushing the glass away weakly. “I don’t want it. I can do this myself.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, his patience unwavering. “Doll, you can barely sit up. Just humor me, alright?”

You groan but take a sip, your movements clumsy. He watches you carefully, his hand resting on your knee to steady you. When you’re done, he sets the glass aside and stands, offering you his hand.

“Let’s get you changed and into bed,” he says, tugging you up gently.

You sway on your feet, your head falling against his chest as he wraps an arm around you to keep you upright. “I don’t need help,” you mumble, your tone stubborn. “I can do it myself.”

Chris lets out a soft sigh, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I know you can, baby, but let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

You huff but let him lead you to the bedroom. He sets you on the edge of the bed and crouches down, his hands carefully unlacing your shoes. His movements are so tender, so patient, it makes your chest ache.

“I can do this,” you mutter again, trying to push his hands away as he reaches for the hem of your top.

Chris’s jaw tightens, but his voice remains calm. “I know you can, but you’re drunk, and I’m just trying to help.”

You swat at his hands as he gently pulls your shirt over your head. “I’m not a kid, Chris. I don’t need you to baby me.”

He freezes for a moment, his hands stilling as his eyes flicker to yours. “I’m not babying you,” he says softly. “I’m taking care of you.”

But your words keep spilling out, unfiltered by your inebriated state. “You always do this,” you mumble, your tone accusatory. “You treat me like I can’t do anything on my own.”

Chris’s shoulders tense, and he exhales slowly, clearly trying to keep his composure. “That’s not what I’m doing, doll,” he says, his voice steady but with an edge of weariness. “You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You shake your head, your words growing more jumbled. “You just... you’re always... I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

The hurt that flashes across his face is fleeting, but it’s there. He presses his lips into a thin line, his hands dropping to his sides. “Alright,” he says quietly, standing up. “If that’s how you feel.”

He takes a step back, his blue eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to take it back, to say something—anything—that would undo the sting of your words. But when you don’t, he nods to himself and steps toward the door.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” he says, his voice tight, and with that, he leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

-

The pounding in your head is relentless, but it’s nothing compared to the aching void in your chest. You stir on the couch, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, and find Chris sitting beside you. He’s leaning back, his arm draped over the couch’s edge, his face unreadable.

You shift closer to him, resting your head against his stomach, desperate for some kind of connection. His body tenses under you, but he doesn’t say a word. You tilt your face up, planting soft kisses along the fabric of his hoodie, trailing them lower, hoping to draw out some kind of reaction.

“Chris,” you whisper, your voice small and pleading. When he doesn’t respond, you kiss him again, this time with more intention. “Please, talk to me.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming to rest on your head for a brief moment before pulling away. “Baby, not now,” he says softly, but there’s an edge to his voice.

You ignore his words, your emotions high and desperate. Your fingers graze his jaw as you press another kiss to his stomach. “Why not?” you murmur, your lips trembling. “Don’t you want me?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his patience visibly fraying. “I said not now,” he repeats, still trying to keep his tone even. “You’re not in the right headspace.”

The sting of rejection hits hard, and your chest tightens with a mix of shame and hurt. “Chris,” you plead again, sitting up now, your hands reaching for his face. “Why won’t you touch me? Why don’t you want me anymore?”

His jaw clenches, and he finally looks at you, his blue eyes filled with frustration. “Don’t do this,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “I’m trying to take care of you, and you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Your heart breaks at the coldness in his tone, and before you can stop yourself, you move to straddle his lap, your fingers fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “I need you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Chris grabs your wrists gently but firmly, pulling them away. “Stop,” he says, his voice rising slightly. “Baby, stop this.”

But you don’t stop. You lean in, pressing your lips to his, your desperation palpable. “Why not? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?”

That’s when he snaps. Chris pushes you back slightly, his voice exploding with emotion. “Why not? Are you serious right now?” He stands up abruptly, running his hands through his hair as he paces the room.

You sit there, stunned by the intensity of his reaction. “Chris, I didn’t mean—”

“No,” he cuts you off, turning to face you, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even remember last night? Do you have any idea what you said to me?”

Your breath hitches, your mind scrambling for answers. “No, I don’t remember,” you whisper. “I just remember you helping me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, his hands on his hips as he shakes his head. “Yeah, I helped you. I always help you. But you don’t remember telling me that I’m controlling? That I treat you like a child? That you feel smothered by me?”

Your heart sinks, and tears spring to your eyes. “Chris, I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he spits, his voice sharp. “You can’t just say stuff like that and expect it to disappear because you don’t remember.”

Tears stream down your face as you stand, trying to close the distance between you. “I don’t feel that way, Chris. I swear. I love you.”

Chris’s laughter is harsh, almost cruel. “You love me?” he echoes. “Then why are you acting like this? Why are you so desperate for me to touch you now when last night you couldn’t stand the way I take care of you?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, clutching his arm. “I just wanted you. I needed you.”

He shakes his head, his voice rising again. “You needed me? You always need me, don’t you? You act like this—like a child—whenever things get tough. You love being babied in bed, and I’m always soft with you because you’re so damn sensitive.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, he pauses, his face softening slightly as guilt flickers in his eyes. He hesitates, his mouth opening as if he’s about to backtrack. But then his jaw sets, and he doubles down.

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he continues, his voice harder now. “You’re so sensitive and overdramatic that I have to walk on eggshells around you all the time. I have to take my time with you, but now you’re acting like this—like you can’t wait another second. Why?”

Your sobs grow louder as his words cut deeper, and you shake your head, trying to reach for him. “Chris, please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But he doesn’t stop. His frustration has taken over completely, and he’s unable to hold back. “Why are you so needy and quick for me now?” he snaps, his voice breaking. “You make me feel like I can’t win no matter what I do. I’m either not enough, or I’m too much.”

Your knees buckle, and you collapse back onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “Chris, please,” you beg, your voice barely audible.

He softens slightly, the anger in his expression replaced by sadness. “I love you,” he says, his voice cracking. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m never enough for you.”

Before you can respond, he grabs his keys from the table and heads for the door. “I hope you figure out what you really want,” he says quietly before walking out, leaving you alone with the deafening silence of his absence.

You sniffle, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the memory settles between you and Dr. Callahan. "That’s the last time I saw him," you say, staring down at your hands clutching a tissue.

The room feels oppressively quiet, the hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the silence. Your chest tightens as the words hang in the air, final and raw. "I woke up the next morning, hungover and confused, and he was gone. His hoodie wasn’t on the chair anymore, his keys weren’t on the table. He didn’t even leave a note."

Your breath hitches as your eyes well up again, and you swipe at your face angrily with the tissue. "I don’t even remember all of what I said that night. I just know I was crying, begging him, practically throwing myself at him—and he snapped. He told me I was too much. That I’m always too much."

Your voice cracks, and you let out a shaky exhale. "I mean, he wasn’t wrong, was he? I am too much. I pushed him so hard that he finally broke. And then I just… let him leave. I didn’t even try to stop him."

Dr. Callahan leans forward slightly, her hands folded in her lap. Her voice is soft but grounded. "It sounds like that moment is still very raw for you. But it also sounds like there’s a lot of blame you’re placing on yourself. Have you thought about why you let him leave without stopping him?"

You blink hard, the tears blurring your vision. "Because… I thought he’d come back," you admit, the confession trembling on your lips. "He always came back before. No matter how bad the fights got, no matter what I said or did—Chris always came back."

Your voice drops to a whisper. "But this time, he didn’t."

You press the tissue to your nose, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. "I don’t know why I even thought he would. He looked at me like I was a stranger that night. Like he didn’t even know me anymore. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe I pushed him so far that he stopped loving me, and I just didn’t want to see it."

Dr. Callahan watches you for a moment, her expression calm but empathetic. "What you’re describing—losing someone you cared so deeply for—is incredibly painful. But it’s also important to understand that relationships don’t break down because of one person. It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself."

You shake your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "But I did this," you choke out. "I was the one who couldn’t stop. I was the one who made him feel like he wasn’t enough. And now he’s gone, and I can’t even tell him I’m sorry. I can’t take back any of it."

Your chest feels hollow as you lean back into the couch, the tears still falling freely. Deep down, you wonder if the ache will ever stop. If the image of him walking out the door that night will ever fade. If you’ll ever feel whole again without him.

To be continued??

A/N: This fic has been a labor of love and has definitely been time-consuming to write! Mostly due to the fact that I never slept in 2 days. A huge shoutout to the amazing anon who requested a story about a breakup with a personal spin on it—hopefully, this is exactly what you were hoping for! If you’ve made it this far, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means the world to me. If you liked the story, or even if you have thoughts or feedback, any sort of interaction is always beyond appreciated. Thank you again for reading 🩷

tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

[heavensenteden]

✎ unraveled by you | nsfw fic 🔞

☆彡

hi guys hehehe, I'm stuck with the visual novel brain rot so I wrote about casper cause beyond the bet was delicious and I craved more of him ;P

anyways, this is cross-posted from my ao3 account and dedicated to my wife who watched me write this in my psych class (your future therapist writes fanfic I know)

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62269831

pls minors dni and dnr ⭐️

word count: 3304

🌙˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⭒

Sprawled across the bed, Casper clung to the sheets as if they were the only thing grounding him in this moment. His voice, hoarse and uneven, spilled out in helpless murmurs, each word trembling with longing. His half-lidded eyes flickered weakly, his mouth open as if he wanted to speak, but no words left his mouth. 

He reached out, fingers curling into the empty space around him, searching for something—someone—but finding only the plush comforter on your bed. He couldn’t do anything while he was under you, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

The reaper’s skin was completely flushed, soft pink and red contrasting dramatically against his normally pale– almost white skin. He was exposed to the gentle caress of the air conditioning within the bedroom the two of them were currently in. 

Your wandering hands glided smoothly over Casper’s soft, unblemished inner thighs, the sweat with the remnants of his previous releases, clinging to your fingertips. Every deliberate touch left him trembling, helpless beneath your teasing, his body betraying him with shivers of overstimulation. He’d unraveled beneath you completely, spent from four rounds of you teasing and making him cum, yet the aching emptiness in his untouched hole left him yearning for more than your hands or mouth.

"E-Enough..." Casper's voice wavered, hushed and hoarse, each syllable trembling with desperation.

As much as he adored you, your touch like fire across his skin, the way your presence consumed him wholly, he couldn’t handle another round of your relentless teasing. Not now. All he craved in that moment was to be pinned against the mess of your crumpled sheets and to be fucked, hard and fast, no space left for a single thought or breath. Your lips lazily pulled into a seemingly innocent smile. 

"You've tired out, and I still haven't come once my little reaper…" you purred, flashing your underwear to him from beneath your small skirt, your fingers dipping down beneath the thin, soaked fabric as you shoved it to the side, pumping your fingers in and out slowly, ensuring Casper was watching every single movement.

A soft moan escaped as you shamelessly pleasured yourself right on top of him, teasing him once more without a care, and after a moment, you withdrew the same hand– glistening with your own arousal, and held it up to Casper’s mouth, gently pressing them against his soft, supple lips.

“Open please.” and he did. The sweet boy took your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, savouring the sweet taste from your pussy as if it was the world’s best treat, looking up at you with those pretty needy red eyes as he released your fingers, a trail of saliva left behind.

Casper’s lust-filled eyes followed your every move, dark and hazy with desire as your hands traced along his trembling thighs. The salty-sweet liquid trickling from his tip glistened in paths down to meet the thin sheen of sweat clinging to his flushed skin. With a teasing smirk, you let your pointer finger glide through the sticky trail, drawing soft patterns that left his thighs quivering under your touch.

Just when your hand was about to reach Casper’s leaking cock, said male's legs jolted slightly, squeezing his legs shut to somehow stop your hand from touching him anymore.

"N-No, no.. No more.." He whimpered, his sweat-matted hands clenching tightly onto the sheets as he shuddered. You tilted your head calmly, removing your hand out from in between his thighs. You lifted your fingers to your own mouth, licking the cum right off the tips. Casper’s head hung in shame; his embarrassment was obvious, even when you could not see his reddened cheeks.

You cupped the reaper’s chin, tilting his head up toward you, leaving no room for protest as your gaze locked onto his. “Are you really sure you want me to leave you like this? Sensitive, needy, and so, so bothered?” you cooed sweetly, the words dripping with mock innocence. Soft kisses followed, starting at his temple and trailing down, your nose brushing against his heated skin with deliberate tenderness until you were nuzzled into the crook of his neck, lingering, waiting for his answer.

Casper let out a shaky sigh, his back arching instinctively into your touch. His body betrayed him, trembling from exertion and burning with unfulfilled desire.

You couldn’t help but savor the sight before you: the reaper’s lip quivering, his thighs trembling, and his hands reaching aimlessly for something to ground himself. Droplets of sweat ran down his temples, his body flinching and twitching at even the slightest touch. He was utterly, beautifully wrecked for you. Perfect.

“P-Please... Sunshine, I…” His voice faltered, the plea dying on his lips as his chin remained firmly in your grasp, holding him exposed and vulnerable.

A sly smile tugged at your lips as you trailed your nose back up, lightly grazing his ear before nipping at the sensitive lobe. The sharp intake of breath you earned was music to your ears. “Please... what, Casper?” you murmured, your voice dropping into a low, sultry rumble that sent shivers down his spine. Each word carried with it the heat of your breath, ghosting over his bare neck.

Casper’s arousal spiked, a desperate whimper escaping his lips as his hips bucked forward, grinding helplessly against your thigh. God, he wanted it so bad, but the thought of having to beg made his chest tighten and his pride rebel. Yet, the way you teased him, the way your words wrapped around his resolve, made him wonder how much longer he could hold out.

Your intimate moments were always a balanced mix of merciless pounding and brat taming or soft, tender love-making. Dominance shifted fluidly between you depending on the mood, but this? This was something entirely different. 

The blend of teasing caresses and sweet nothings thrown into the mix left him desperate for you, caught between the soft cruelty of your restraint and the aching need building in his body. His cock and chest, evidence of your torment, leaving him trembling and needy for more.

“Y-You know... Sunshine…” His stammered words hung in the air, his voice cracking with frustration and embarrassment. Lowering his head in shame, he tried to hide his flushed face as you finally let go of his chin. But the moment was short-lived. As soon as his hips shifted, seeking relief, you caught him, your hands firm as you forced him still. Despite the heat pooling in your core at his boldness, you weren’t about to let him get away with it.

Your fingers brushed through his damp, white locks, the strands clinging to his sweat-slick forehead as you cocked a brow, feigning obliviousness. “Oh?” you mused, your tone laced with mock innocence. “Maybe... if you ask nicely, I’ll remember what it is you’re talking about.”

A teasing smile curled your lips as you leaned in, planting a soft, deliberate kiss just behind his ear. The reaper shuddered, clenching instinctively as though imagining the fullness he craved so badly.

He knew exactly what you were doing. He knew what you wanted.

And as much as he hated the thought of giving in, he couldn’t wait any longer. Not with the way his body screamed for release and your every touch ignited him further.

I... I want you to... fuck me... hard." His voice cracked, hips grinding desperately against the sheets, the raw need in his words sending a thrill through you. Your once innocent smile quickly morphed into something far more mischievous.

"How exactly do you want me to do it?" you asked, your voice low and teasing, your hands firmly gripping his hips, holding him in place.

You leaned in, your breath hot against his ear as you spoke, your words wrapped in seduction, coaxing soft throbs and twitches from him. Every teasing second was a slow burn, building anticipation.

"J-Just do it already... fuck—Sunshine!" His whine was desperate, eyes squeezed shut as he wriggled in your grip, hips grinding helplessly, overwhelmed by the mix of pleasure and frustration. His voice faltered on your nickname, caught between longing and the overwhelming need for you.

"Hm, well, since you've been so good for me, my love, I suppose I'll give you what you want." You pulled back just enough to let your breath cool his heated skin, watching him tremble in response. The tension in the air was palpable, and his body was already on edge.

"On your feet. Now." The command was sudden, firm, and a part of him loved that. He struggled to rise, his legs trembling as he shuffled across the bed, knees buckling under him, but he didn't dare touch himself. He knew the consequences, your endless teasing would make him wait longer, and he couldn't bear that.

As you rose from the mattress, you made your way behind him, your hands steady as you pushed him forward with one swift motion, pinning him against the bed, bent over for you. A soft whine escaped his lips, and his cheek pressed into the plush surface of the bed, eyes closed tight, body instinctively reacting to your dominance. You wasted no time shedding your underwear, letting the fabric drop to the floor in one smooth motion.

"Stay. Be good for me, baby. Won’t you?" you purred, your lips brushing gently against his neck before stepping back, grabbing the belt-like contraption. The click of it snapping into place as you tugged on the buckles and straps, nestling against your hips, made him shiver—not from the cool air lazily blowing from your AC unit, but just from the anticipation of what was to come next for him.

Once you were ready, your gaze turned back to him, scanning him for any sign of discomfort. You wanted this to be just as much about him enjoying it as it was for you.

"Do you need any more preparation, baby? Or do you feel ready?" you asked softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his hole, applying gentle pressure that made him tremble with pleasure.

"N-No, I’m ready... please, please, Sunshine..." His plea came out as a desperate groan, his body arching, pressing back against you, seeking more. He could feel the artificial cock pressing against him, making him tremble even harder.

You kissed his neck again, soft and sweet, before turning his face toward you, claiming his lips in a kiss that left him breathless.

"Get ready. I might go a bit more rough than usual," you warned, teasingly pressing just the tip inside, feeling him shiver under your touch. His breath caught, soft groans escaping him as you pulled out again, heightening his frustration.

"Yes, yes..." His voice was barely a whisper, a breathy whimper as you continued to tease him.

Slowly, carefully, you eased into him, the gentle pressure sending waves of heat through him. He gasped, his body still, frozen in the moment, mouth agape in silent ecstasy. You checked in with him, making sure he was ready for what would come next, and when you got the green light, you gave in to the brutal pace, each movement building to an intensity neither of you could hold back.

You let out a low, satisfied snicker as incoherent curses spilled from Casper’s lips. His grunts and groans echoed around the room, weakly tugging at his wrists, trying to escape your hold. But you didn’t relent, your grip on him unyielding, halting any movement.

"Is this... ah– what you wanted, my little reaper?" you breathed, pressing deeper into him, the thick length of you creating that delicious friction against his needy hole.

"Keep your back arched for me... Yes, just like that, good boy." Your eyes glinted with hunger, watching him obey, his ass pushing back against you with each thrust, the rhythm never slowing, never faltering.

Casper couldn’t form coherent words, he could only nod fervently, his moans and whimpers spilling out, each sound a perfect response that stroked your ego. With every thrust, his cheeks slapped against your thighs, the rhythm of it a sensual symphony. Each movement drew out a desperate moan, his body trembling as his drool dripped down his chin. It felt so good, and you knew deep down that no one else could make him feel this way.

"S-Sunshine... fuck, augh... Mmph!" His voice cracked, his desperate sounds only pushing you to thrust harder, deeper, fucking into him mercilessly.

You latched onto the tender spot at the base of his neck, biting down and sucking on the fading bruise from a previous round. You knew exactly where his pleasure points were, and using that knowledge, you broke him with ease.

A strangled cry left Casper’s lips when you hit the spot again, his eyes snapping wide open, the flood of pleasure making coherent thought impossible. He gasped and shuddered as you stroked his sweet spot with the tip of your cock, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge. A long, desperate cry of pleasure tore from him.

With a soft laugh, you shifted positions, pulling Casper off the bed for a moment. No longer was he bent over; now, you had him laid back, surrounded by a fortress of pillows and plushies against the headboard. You leaned in close, teasing him, your hips snapping against his with a brutal rhythm, thrusting deep into his already leaking hole.

"Did I find it?" you whispered, taunting him as you thrust once, twice, three times. Each hard push earned a pleading, broken sound from him, those sweet, desperate noises you loved. You knew you were getting closer, the sounds of his pleasure telling you that you were breaking him down, bit by bit. This was too good.

Tell me how it feels when I do this," you murmured, thrusting deep into his hole, hitting his prostate with a force that made him gasp.

"Ugh... Ahh..! S-Sunshine! Please, keep d-doing that..." His voice trembled, turning his head to the side, covering his face with an arm as his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Let me see you, my little reaper... be a good boy for me, won’t you?” you cooed softly, coaxing him to move his arm away from his face. You reached out to intertwine your fingers with his, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his hand. For a moment, you slowed, grinding into him with sweet, deliberate movements, drawing soft moans and gasps from his lips.

“Mm… S-Sunshine, please... I’m so c-close...” His breath hitched, his body trembling as you held his hand, your other hand slipping under his thigh to support the new pace you set.

The pounding resumed, deep and steady, aimed directly at his sweet spot. Casper’s legs shook with each thrust, his body a mess of pleasure as he cried out your name, breathless and desperate.

"You’re so needy, my little reaper... you like it when I fuck you, don’t you?" Your voice was soft, almost teasing, as you watched him melt under your touch. His legs trembled more, his body quivering with every deep, satisfying thrust that hit him right where he needed.

"Gonna come... Hah... Hah... Sunshine!" His voice cracked, his body shaking violently, tears slipping from his eyes as they mixed with the sweat on his flushed face. A sob escaped him, raw and broken, and it sent a shiver up your spine. Forget what you'd said earlier—this sound, the sobs mixed with pleading moans, was your favorite. You had broken him completely, his body now a vessel for nothing but pleasure. Your thrusts grew erratic, but you never lost your aim, always hitting his prostate.

"M-Me too..." you whispered, breathless, eyes fluttering closed as you focused on the sound of flesh against flesh, the wet squelches, and the way his body responded to your every move. The pressure in your own body mounted, your hips moving faster as you neared your release.

Casper came first, his body spasming violently from the overwhelming sensation of cumming for the fifth time that night. His back arched up off the bed as a long, desperate whine echoed throughout the room. His cum spilled from his tip, pooling onto his toned stomach. You didn’t stop, though—your pace remained frantic as you fucked him through his final orgasm, watching as his body twitched and shivered from the overstimulation.

“F-Fuck, Cas, I-I’m so close, baby...” you moaned, breathless and frantic, your body tightening as you felt yourself teetering on the edge. Casper’s cries only pushed you further, the overstimulation driving you wild.

Your hips faltered, and you finally came, your body shaking as you rode out your orgasm, your lips parted and slightly red from biting them.

Both of you were breathless, unable to move, lying there in the same positions for a moment, letting the aftershocks of your climax pass. Casper’s body collapsed back against the pillows, and you took a few moments to catch your breath. With shaky hands, you unlatched the strap from your hips, carefully undoing the straps and buckles before placing it at the end of the bed. You slumped down beside him, exhausted, your body still humming with pleasure.

--

You nuzzled your nose against Casper’s neck again as you had both returned from the bathroom to the freshly made bed. "Sorry, sorry, I must've gone overboard. You've never collapsed like that before." You chuckled softly, your voice warm with concern as you gently massaged his sore body, moving from his legs to his back.

Casper grumbled, shifting slightly to face you as you finally settled beside him. "No... I liked it. My ass hurts, though," he muttered, sounding both sheepish and a little embarrassed as his face grew red.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, even in his frustration. There was something endearing about his pouting expression, and the way he tried to hide it only made him more irresistible. His usual sleepwear now that he lived with you — a black tank top and shorts — clung to his toned body, and for a moment, you just took him in, appreciating the sight of him beside you.

Casper, feeling your gaze on him, buried his face into the pillow, his cheeks flushed in a mix of embarrassment and pride.

"Oh, c'mon," you teased, your voice playful. "You're such a baby, Cas. Can I not appreciate your cute face and body?" You slipped under the covers next to him, pressing your chest gently against his front. Your arm snaked around his waist, pulling his body closer to yours, the warmth between you soothing your souls. With a heavy sigh, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a longing softness that made your heart ache.

"Just don't say those things out loud..." he muttered, his voice low and shy.

You smiled brightly, tilting his chin up gently so you could kiss him. The kiss was brief but filled with tenderness, and just as you pulled back, you murmured against his lips, "Whatever you say, my little reaper ."

Casper's eyes fluttered shut, a soft yawn escaping his lips as you nestled into his neck, your favorite spot. You felt his body relax against yours, his breathing steadying as he began to drift into a peaceful daze. You closed your eyes too, content and wrapped up in the warmth of the moment.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft and sincere.

Casper, already half asleep, smiled gently. He shifted slightly, his hand reaching out to hold yours. "Love you more..." he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but never lacking affection. As you both lay there, tangled in the sheets and each other’s warmth, you drifted off to sleep together, grateful that he had hacked into your laptop all those months ago.

[theemporium]

hmmmmm and perhaps also wrapping presents with Nico? perhaps Nico & Honey (if you’re feeling it)? i am an enabler (of you or myself, who’s to say)

what can i say, i am easily enabled👹thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

series masterlist

.

“Holy shit.”

Nico’s cheeks burned as he stared helplessly at the pile in front of him before turning to you, a sheepish smile on his face. “Okay so maybe I went a little insane with the twins’ Christmas gifts this year.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “A little?” 

“A lot,” Nico conceded. 

You placed your hands on your hips, staring at the pile with a determined look on your face. “This is a whole toy store.” 

“They deserve it,” Nico argued weakly. 

“They do,” you agreed, flashing him a smile. “But you are probably gonna have a lot of regrets in an hour.”

Which, truthfully, Nico thought you were exaggerating about because how bad could wrapping presents really be?

The answer was bad. 

Really fucking bad. 

Like, he is pretty sure he is going to have to spend longer with the massage therapists tomorrow after practice because Nico has learnt the hard way that wrapping presents does not do you any favours for your back.

“Now I know where the twins get their theatrics from,” you teased as you watched the way Nico starfished across the floor, surrounded by unravelling rolls of wrapping paper and tape. 

“Bet Santa doesn’t have to do this,” Nico grumbled, turning his head to look at you with those classic Hischier puppy dog eyes. 

“He doesn’t,” you nodded, pressing your lips together to hide your grin. “He has elves. Congrats, Captain, you’re an elf now.”

Nico frowned. 

You shook your head, kicking your leg out to nudge his ribs. “C’mon, we are almost half way done.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Yeah, but I thought you’d appreciate the lie.”

Nico huffed out a laugh, letting out a groan as he pushed himself to sit up again. “I really didn’t appreciate how much my parents did for Christmas when I was younger.”

Your smile softened a little as you watched Nico stare helplessly at the toy he had been trying to wrap before. “You’re doing a great job, Nico.”

“It looks like an elf wrapped these blindfolded after too many glasses of eggnog,” Nico muttered, his brows furrowing together when he saw the leg of a stuffed toy sticking out the wrapped present. 

“I mean it,” you said again, a little more serious and sincere as his eyes snapped up to look at you. 

Nico swallowed, trying to push down the emotions that were threatening to bubble up since the month of December started. Ever since the twins were born, he always had family out here in Jersey with him for the holidays. This was the first time it was just him—and you, which he thanked every single day because he couldn’t imagine doing any of this without you—and saying he was stressed was an understatement.

It was probably one of the first years where the twins were actually aware of the festivities happening around them. He didn’t want to ruin those memories. 

“I just want to make it magical for them,” he confessed, reminding himself to keep his voice low despite the fact the twins were fast asleep in their bedroom, that they had been for the last few hours. 

“You are,” you smiled, leaning over to gently squeeze his knee. “You are giving them the most perfect Christmas.”

“Wouldn’t be able to do it without you,” he murmured, soft and sweet and sincere. 

You grinned. “We make a good team, Hischier.” 

His heart flipped at your words. “Yeah, we do.”

.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

I found I enjoy the Stiles is best friends with Laura Hale dynamic. Do you have any recommendations?

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

Burn with hellfire in the blue light of midnight by babisays (20/20 | 203,189 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles met the Hale siblings when he was eleven years old. Now it has been six years since he lost his best friend Cora in the fire, and Derek and Laura left Beacon Hills.

Six years was a long time, so he didn't think he would ever see them again, but now he was wondering what the hell was Derek Hale doing back in Beacon Hills.

How We Serve by GrimReaperlover11 (16/16 | 53,280 | Not Rated | Sterek) Stiles is selected to become the servant to Prince Derek Hale.. however his new master gives off total 'Ima rip your throat out, with my teeth' vibes...maybe its a werewolf thing. Nonetheless Stiles hopes he can survive his new life

Sacrifice (Whatever It Takes) by adara, Swlffangirl (7/7 | 38,519 | Teen | Sterek) In which Laura lives, the Hale Pack grows, and Derek finds a peace that he'd never thought could be his. It doesn't come easy, because when does anything ever, but they've got a real shot at it for the first time since before the fire that stole their family and sent their whole lives up in smoke.

My Sister’s Boyfriend by Niecy8 (14/14 | 36,297 | Mature | Sterek) Derek loves his sister very much and is looking forward to seeing her since they haven't seen each other in a while. However, he's not thrilled that she is bringing home her new boyfriend - someone they know zero about. He will be nice but what he didn't expect was how attractive he would be.

Stiles will do anything for Laura. She's his best friend and like an older sister to him. However, this has to be the worst idea she has ever had - pretending to date one another? No one will believe it and it becomes increasingly harder to play the part when he meets her gorgeous brother. 

Or two idiots slowly falling in love with each other with Laura playing a hand in it.

The Ghost of You (It Keeps Me Awake) by StaceyMarie123 (1/1 | 21,477 | Teen | Sterek) She took each step slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal that might spook any second.

“You can see me?” she asked, and her voice was higher pitched that he’d expected. It was a complete and utter marvel that Stiles hadn’t keeled over from shock yet.

He nodded and her face broke into a huge grin.

She had bunny teeth, just like her brother.

…

Or: the one where Stiles accidentally develops the power to see and communicate with ghosts, and there seems to be someone haunting their favourite grumpy alpha.

Samhain by nightlight9 (1/1 | 20,135 | Teen | Sterek) The ghost of Talia Hale has been showing up in Stiles’ bedroom on the night of Halloween for years. Normally their conversations are pretty normal. But when she shows up screaming about how her daughter is going to be killed, Stiles knows that he’ll do anything to prevent that from happening.

Platonic Absolutes by sparkandwolf (1/1 | 7,362 | Gen | Sterek) When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend. 

Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life.

A Death Omen Too Strong to Stomp Out by one-fandom-became-all-fandoms (1/1 | 6,668 | Mature | Sterek) The dream had haunted him for nearly a year since moving to New York. With no friends but his therapist to confide in, Stiles raced to figure out what the wintry orchard had to do with saving a life. Accompanied by a mysterious stranger, Derek, Stiles may unravel his psyche before it's too late.

love and soulmates by EvanesDust (1/1 | 1,747 | Teen | Sterek) Derek watched as Stiles looped an arm around Laura’s waist and laid his head on her shoulder.

“Aw, Laur, don’t be like that. You know we’re soulmates…” 

Soulmates? And just like that, Derek’s heart broke. Laura brought home Stiles--perfect and delectable and entirely Derek’s type. Fuck his life because, of course, Stiles would be in love with Laura.

AND

@littlekittio reminded me of this fantastic fic.

Fireman Derek's Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] by owlpostagain

(1/1 I 17,698 I Teen)

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

AND AND

@idoobeg suggested these!

The Cool Kids by thankyouforexisting

(1/1 I 14,375 I Teen I Sterek)

Laura was four when her parents brought home a baby. [...] The next day, she grabbed a basket and put her brother in it. The four month old baby blinked sleepily at her, and she grinned, “Hey, brother. This is for my own good,” she’d heard something like that yesterday at the movies, and it sounded cool. She carried the basket into the Preserve, taking care not to wake her sleeping parents, and walked for a while before setting it gently on the ground. “Animals of the forests!” she cried, “This is my offering to you! Take this baby in exchange for my family’s safety!” // Laura has tried to abandon her siblings 13 times (each), has convinced Scott that life isn't real in 8 occasions, and she's made her parents wish they'd stayed childless about 1000 times, but not really. A story in which little Laura grows up, and learns.

I Hate You a Little, a Lot, Passionately, Not at All by YouRunWithTheWolves

(6/6 I 26,083 I Explicit I Sterek)

Laura has a brother. He's a dick. So Laura gets herself a best friend.

He's also a dick.

or, Laura finds a new roommate to replace Isaac and Derek is ecstatic.

[a-sip-of-milo]

NPD Resources Masterlist

[BPD]

The official resources masterlist for NPD. Includes all the links I've shared in the past and stuff I haven't.

Any posts I've linked about supporting those with NPD have been put in the misc section because I do not want to take away from what this post is really about, which is helping people with NPD, not the people around them.

Diagnostic criteria

NPD diagnostic criteria, rewritten by someone who has it

Official diagnostic criteria

An explanation of the diagnostic criteria

Recovery resources FOR the narcissist

NPD recovery resources

How to find therapy for NPD, common types of therapy and signs of an abusive/toxic therapist

Narcissist supply

What is narc supply?

Things that can give a narcissist supply

NPD stigma

The perception of NPD symptoms vs. how a narcissist might actually experience them

Why those with NPD have a hard time seeking help (spoiler alert: it's not because they're unaware)

A plea from someone with NPD (and some resources debunking common misconceptions)

Narcissism is not abusive / abuse is abusive

Debunking common myths on NPD

Common disproven myths about NPD

Miscellaneous

How to support someone with NPD

NPD Carrd (What is NPD, dpt skills and self-help)

Unravelling the connection: npd as a trauma response

NPD terminology (do's and dont's)

NPD safe blogs

@empath-abuse-awareness

@enigma-in-reality

@loverofmirage

@the-npd-culture-is

@nicepersondisorder

@theegosystem

@mischiefmanifold

NPD positivity so you don't have to go looking

Reblog to kiss a narcissist on the forehead

Reblog to tell your local narcissist that they're the best ever

Happy NPD appreciation day

Positivity for systems with NPD

Be normal about narcissists unless it's to give them love

NPD should be EPD (Epic Personality Disorder)

Of course I have a praise kink, I have NPD

Narcissists are so beautiful and handsome and wonderful

Positivity for narcissists who like sex

I love my narcissists

Aromantic narcissists are amazing

Narcissists I love you

Easy ways to spot a narcissist (it's not what you think &lt;;3)

Narcissists deserve to be loved

As usual, if something needs to be deleted because it's wrong/comes from a toxic author/etc. please let me know. I tried to look on Google but all I found was ableist shit, so these are all found by your fellow narcissists on tumblr :)

Edit: If you have any resources, please send them to me through an ask or DM and i'll check it out/add it!

[magicalrocketships]

Flip flop for Where the Light is? Sorry for acting like a fan but i saw ur reblog and jumped at the chance

↻ FLIP FLOP: send me a scene from one of my fics and I’ll describe or write it from another character’s POV!

Where the Light is (Masterpost || AO3) AKA the one where Max gets pregnant.

Except, this time: Daniel's POV (part 1/2, I didn't mean for it to turn into something but then I got tired)

Daniel I have some news for you so please call me back Daniel deletes the voicemail.

Where the light was

Daniel I have some news for you so please call me back

Daniel deletes the voicemail.

You have not called me back Daniel and now it says your voicemail is full so I will text you instead to tell you to call me

Daniel sees the notification pop up just under the last missed call from Max. That's five calls now since the last time Daniel swept the notifications away.

He doesn't want to talk to Max. He doesn't want to talk to anyone. He turns the volume down to nothing and switches vibrate off.

Sometimes he'll look at the phone on the coffee table and see the screen light up with another message, another call, another notification. He doesn't pick his phone up. Eventually they'll stop.

I need to tell you something daniel and I can see your read receipts are on so text me back

Daniel googles 'how to turn read receipts off'. He follows the instructions. He's okay. He just— there's a lot going on. It's complicated. There are lawyers. Contracts to unravel. Partnerships to end. He's tired. There isn't a space for racing and people who race in his life right now. It's a door he's got to close for his own survival.

You have turned your read receipts off but you are still not texting me back and it is important daniel

Daniel doesn't call Max back. He doesn't call Max, he doesn't text him, he doesn't come back to Monaco, and he doesn't read or reply to his Instagram DMs.

He goes back to the farm. Someone takes over his inbox and sends him meeting invites to a new, private email and he shows up to them when he's required to. He runs a lot. Bikes a lot. Answers one message or one call from his parents per day, as agreed.

It's okay. He'll be okay. There's a whole world out there, a future that's just waiting for him. It's okay to close the curtains for a while, though. Know the world's out there waiting for him. When he's ready.

He's just not ready yet.

Scotty messages him to say that Chloe got asked by Lance who got asked by Max to make him get in touch. He texts Scotty back it's on my list.

There's a lot of stuff on his list. He calls his therapist. She's been waiting for him to get in touch. He books in two sessions, and gets out the yoga mat again. He stretches. He talks.

Max keeps on messaging him. They're all much the same. He hopes Daniel is okay. He wants to talk. Can Daniel call him back please.

Daniel doesn't have it in him to talk about racing. He doesn't have it in him to know that Max is carrying on when he's pulled off the track and won't be getting back on it. He knows Max deserves better.

He doesn't let himself think about that one night they spent together, the one where Daniel had been drowning in hope, in promises, in a future. He'd wanted more than just that one night. He'd wanted that future, the one he'd dreamed about, him and Max and racing and everything else.

It's all right that things end. It's the natural ebb and flow of life. He wouldn't have been racing forever, anyway. There would always have been a last race, a last season, a last car. His therapist tells him it's okay to have feelings about how it played out, though. Daniel has feelings. He's mad, he's sad, he's disappointed and embarrassed and lost.

He doesn't want to get stuck as well as lost, though. He's always been an adventurer. There's always been something to reach for. He's just got to figure out what.

"You've got time," his therapist tells him. "You don't have to decide today."

That's good, Daniel thinks, because he's got no idea what's next.

His phone rings in the middle of the night. He answers blearily, without thinking. He'd turned the volume up after weeks of it being on silent. The ringer is so loud in the quiet of the night. He reaches for his lamp.

It's— it's Max. The angle's weird. He's holding his phone up to talk into it, but his eyes are closed like he hadn't realised he was FaceTiming, like he was just going to talk into the mic. He's lying down. That's a— that's one of those shitty medical beds like they have in the medical centre trackside, complete with the shitty tearaway paper sheets. It's Brazil weekend and that's a medical bed.

Daniel's heart pounds.

He has to tune back into what Max is saying: "—There is a baby, Daniel. Our little baby. I tried and I tried to tell you. I didn't tell anyone else but now they will be finding out. I don't know if it is me that is not well or if it is the baby. I want it to be me."

Daniel says, "Max?"

Max opens his eyes. He looks exhausted and pale and washed out and ill. He touches his thumb to Daniel's face through the phone screen.

"Max," Daniel says again.

"I don't feel well," Max says. "They are taking me to hospital."

"Max," Daniel says.

"Our little baby won a race," Max says. "I am going now."

The phone goes fucking dead.

Daniel calls him back. It goes unanswered. He calls again. Unanswered.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

Daniel googles. He calls Max, over and over, but there's no answer. He reads peoples tweets and reddit posts about Max's win, about his fourth world championship, about him supposedly being ill and needing help out of the car and the weird, disjointed way he'd looked on the podium, not even picking up his champagne bottle, and how someone had come to offer Max help off the podium and down the stairs. The rumours and the news of him being taken to the medical centre, and then to hospital. He turns the TV on then off again. Dawn comes. Daylight. A new day. He messages Max. Nothing.

Then: I am coming to Perth. We will need to go to a baby doctor.

Daniel sits down. What the fuck. A baby. Their baby? A baby. All this time, a baby.

A call from his parents. He answers it hoping that it's Max, then he has to try and explain that Max is coming to them. Has to ask them how to find a baby doctor. There are calls to Blake, to someone who might know something, texts to people Daniel hadn't wanted to talk to ever again. Eventually, someone in Raymond's office. A time. Details of where Max's jet will be landing. Questions about whether Daniel will meet him or if alternative arrangements have to be made.

The whole time Daniel feels like he's having an out of body experience. He goes to his parents' place and they look at him with the same confusion and concern as is probably mirrored on Daniel's face. Knowing Max discharged himself. That he's flying across the world when he should still be in hospital in Brazil. It's too much. They're going to come meet Max's plane with him. They're going to drive.

"Jesus," Daniel says, when he sees Max, who's barely managing to stand. He's never seen Max look anything like this bad. Pale and weak and exhausted and touching his stomach, where there's a baby. Where there is their baby. God, maybe he misunderstood. Don't get hopeful. Don't wish for anything. He might have got it wrong.

He trails his parents to the car. He's trying to catalogue everything that's different about Max. He has to help Max get into the back of the car. Has to help him with his seatbelt. His hands shake.

Max looks at him. He says, "The baby is okay, Daniel, they said so. I am just tired."

Daniel says, "You're a real fucking idiot, Max," and he can't help but hold on to Max's hand really fucking tight as his mum tells them they're going to the hospital.

Max doesn't argue. He looks like there's nothing holding him together but willpower. "I thought you would like it if the baby was born here," he says. "I was picking a place for the baby to be born and I thought you would like it if it was here."

Daniel is going to fucking sob. He's going to break down and cry.

Max shakes his head. "You didn't answer your phone. I kept trying."

"I'm sorry," Daniel says. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't be anywhere where racing was. I didn't know it was more important."

"I told the baby you would love them but you just needed to know about it." He leans his head back against the head rest.

It's too much. It's another thing he's failed at. He should have answered Max's calls. He should have known it wasn't about racing, that it was more important, that Max needed him. That there was a baby, their baby, and Max was trying to tell him.

The punishment, Daniel supposes, is finding out like this.

Daniel holds Max's hand the whole way to the hospital.

[meowzfordayz]

hashira find out that you self harm

Author’s Note: as always, pls heed CW (content warnings). These were not written purely for comfort, but also w/ ~realistic reactions in mind, so while they def lean toward comfort, there’s a certain lvl of inherent discomfort and pain in them as well. 🖤

hashira find out that you self harm

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,900

CW: depression, explicit language, implied self harm, traumatic references

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Can I request kny x reader, (sanemi, michikatsu, genya, giyu, & rengoku)

of an s/o who sh & feels very s*icidal

tough times yk?

Emergency Request Fulfilled: A request, idk if this is gonna seem insensitive, but could you write the hashiras reactions if they found out the reader sh? I have been struggling with these things lately and would like to see something like that, but if you feel uncomfortable with it then you don't have to do this.

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I ended up breaking my streak of not sh-ing last night and I feel awful again. I was wondering if you could do a rengoku x Reader with that kind of subject material as a sort of pick me up. Sorry for bothering you like this it’s just I feel not so good rn and you’re someone who provides me comfort with your writing

kamaboko find out that you self harm

~faqs~

When they find out that you self harm…

… Gyomei doesn’t know what to say. His immediate reaction is to feel incredibly protective, but his gut tells him overreacting could push you even further away. “Oh.” A single word exhaled quietly from his mouth, and you feel yourself unraveling. “I-” Quickly, he collects himself. “Don’t apologize to me,” he asserts gently, “Thank you for telling me.” “You aren’t mad?” you ask shakily. “I’m confused,” he answers softly, “I want to protect you, but I’m unfamiliar with protecting someone from themselves.” Your heart twinges at his admittance as his arms wrap steadily around you, his palms pressed clammy and flat against your back, his embrace soothing even as his frown deepens.

… Obanai is furious. With himself, of course. A silent, dreadful anger that sticks to his spine, no matter how much he twists, turns, and talks with himself. He throws himself into research, a whirlwind of educating himself as best and as quickly as possible, all the while maintaining a light hearted, gentle facade whenever you’re beside him. “Are you okay?” you’ll ask sometimes, his sporadic urgency noticeable, “Something bothering you?” And he knows confessing his frustration won’t solve anything; guilting you or making you regret sharing yourself with him is the last thing he wants. So he shrugs, shooting you a lazy, intimate smile, suddenly grateful for how he can make his eyes twinkle above his mask, truthful grimace covered, “Just missing you.” “But I’m right here!” you exclaim, nudging him happily. “I know,” he mutters softly I know.

… Mitsuri cries. She doesn’t mean to. She doesn’t mean to make you comfort her. She doesn’t mean to make you apologize over and over until you’re both bawling, clinging to each other as though squeezing tightly enough might make your truth dissipate. But she does. She cries in your arms as you cry in hers, disbelief and sorrow rippling through her body. “I-I’m s-sorry,” you repeat, voice strained, unable to catch your breath as you gasp between sobs. “M-me t-too,” she whimpers lowly Me too. She’ll put herself back together later, determination to love you as hard and as fiercely as ever gradually overcoming her initial shock and dismay, even as part of her heart remains forever changed — forever afraid of losing you… to yourself.

… Shinobu struggles to maintain a boundary between being your partner and being your therapist. She’s not professionally trained in psychiatry, but she’s obviously knowledgeable when it comes to physical healing, sooo why not mental healing? That’s not how it works she often has to silently remind herself, seconds away from responding to your spiraling as though you’re in a therapy session together. Deep down, she knows all she can do is be there for you as she is. Not as she wishes she could be. Not as she feels she should be. But as she is. Am I enough? she wonders as she listens to your labored breathing, feeling you twitch beside her in your sleep I sure hope so she sighs, pressing light fingers to your overheated cheek, smiling faintly as your breaths gradually slow I really hope so.

… Kyojuro is distraught, but does his best to conceal it. For your sake. His sake. He isn’t really sure, actually. All he knows is he’s watching you fall to pieces in slow motion, and somehow, he still isn’t quite fast enough to catch all of you. Some days are easier than others. Those other days? He can barely bring himself to touch you.

“Kyo,” you sigh, fixing an even stare on his unnervingly neutral gaze, sorely missing his usual eagerness, “What’s going on?”

He promptly brightens, stepping forward to press a light kiss on your forehead, “Nothing is going on.”

Then why won’t you comfort me?

Wordlessly, you slip your arms around his waist, relieved when he accepts your embrace, confused that, “Then why don’t you hold me anymore?”

He frowns at that, head tilting, “I am holding you right now.”

With a snort, you mutter quietly, “No, Kyo, I’m holding you. It’s like you suddenly need my permission to-” interrupting yourself as realization hits, “Kyo.”

He blinks, feeling thoroughly ~caught, yet unsure what act you’ve caught him in.

“Yes, my love?”

“You don’t have to be scared of me!” you exclaim, bittersweet laughter rumbling in your chest, “I know I…” trailing off awkwardly, “I know I’m not okay, and I know you worry, but keeping yourself from me doesn’t help, solve, or ease, well, anything!”

“Are you certain?” he murmurs, dreadful despair leaking into his gut again, “I… do not know how to navigate this.”

Squeezing his hips, you glare fondly at him, “I know I’m not okay, and I know it pains you to hear me say that. I also know it pains both of us when you distance yourself. You don’t have to let me go. You aren’t the problem.”

But he nearly exclaims But I can’t save you!

“I don’t need saving,” you whisper instead, reading his perceived failure in the tremor of his fingers tracing up and down your spine, “I just want you to love me.”

I do he swallows thickly I love you so much.

… Sanemi leaves midway through your quiet, shaky explanation, fingernails nearly breaking the skin of his palms, mouth a thin line, lavender eyes too narrowed to discern the pain pulsing through his glare. You listen to the front door open, expecting a resounding bam, mystified when a nearly silent push of air signals his departure. Shit. You know then that he isn’t pissed. At least, he isn’t pissed at you. Which, really, would be easier to handle than the slow dripping tears glistening on his cheeks, clinging to his eyelashes; would be easier to handle than reading the single text he sends you I love you, don’t wait up; would be easier to handle than waking to the feel of him tracing hearts across your skin, bed warmer with his body, mattress dipping you toward him. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, somehow knowing you’re awake before you’ve even fully processed consciousness yourself, “I won’t do it again.” You mumble something incoherent in response, catching his hand with yours, pressing a sleepy kiss to his knuckles. “Fuck,” he hisses sharply, sob lodged in his throat, “You’re everything to me,” lifting your knuckles to his lips, returning your gesture Everything.

… Muichiro doesn’t understand why, but he does notice its consequences. He notices the tiredness glinting in your eyes, even though you’ve just woken up. He notices the slowness in your movements, even as you’re expressing excitement. He notices the harshness of your voice when you’re having a particularly difficult day, though he doesn’t understand why it’s particularly difficult. He voices his disconnect, curled up beside you on the couch, hands wrapped coolly around yours, apologetic and upfront. “I can tell when you’re in pain,” he says gently, “But I don’t understand the desire to then create more pain.” Shaking his head as you open your mouth to explain, he smiles softly, “I know it hurts to try and help me understand, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” brow furrowing as he sighs quietly, “That’s just it, I guess. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t understand.” You know he means well, you know he isn’t upset, but it doesn’t get easier listening to him navigate your pain. “I love you,” you offer, leaning over to peck his cheek. He sighs again, soaking in your warmth, unable to identify the tight numbness in his chest, “And I love you.”

… Giyuu nods, thoughts racing even as silence settles between your anxious stare and his unblinking expression.

“Giyuu?” you tentatively prompt him, “This… this wasn’t easy for… for me to tell you.” 

Like an unpaused movie, he blinks into action, reaching for your waist even as he watches for the slightest hint of discomfort from you, ready to divert his movement if need be. You crumble into his touch, leaning heavy and exhausted against his chest, melting into the smooth reassurance of his hands splayed across your lower back.

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, eyes closed, “Thank you for trusting me,” resisting the urge to pull away, cup your face, and press his forehead firmly to yours, involuntary tears pricking the corners of his eyes, “Thank you for…” his voice fades, knowing he’d crumble en suite if he continued, desperate to remain steady for your wavering breaths.

“For what?” you choke out, “Giyuu.”

Thank you for staying he thinks somberly Thank you for loving me.

“Thank you for choosing me,” he finally whispers, “And thank you for letting me choose you.”

You laugh roughly, sound mangled in his shirt, “I’m a mess.”

He doesn’t deny your statement, instead pulling you closer, his heartbeat loud and promising, tears falling freely now. And that’s okay he wishes he could say Two messes are better than one he wishes he could quip How do I fix this? his fear stutters on repeat What do I do? underlying his tenderness, knowing all too well that he has only questions, and no way of answering them.

… Tengen takes it unexpectedly well. He listens patiently, nods at appropriate moments, and gently interjects with the occasional question, all the while kneading your thighs as you sit on his lap, watching you with a careful, encouraging warmth.

“You’re amazing,” he declares softly, “Not to belittle your pain, of course,” sadness simmering just below his faint smile, “But I want you to know that, after everything you’ve told me, my first thought is how incredible you are.”

You shrug, unsure how to accept his compliments, stripped bare as you glance downward, eyes closing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, familiar hand cupping your chin, “I know I can’t make you believe anything I say,” bittersweet sigh grazing your skin, “But I can at least share my own beliefs. I can at least share my own perception of you. I can love you.”

Your nose scrunches, eyes opening to meet his honest stare, swallowing your breath with a shudder.

“I’m here. Whatever you want to tell me, whatever I need to know,” voice thickening, “I’m not going anywhere. If you need me to be firm, I can be firm. If you need me to be quiet, I can bite my tongue. I’m your lover, your partner, and a resource.”

So let me fulfill all of those roles for you. Let me love you. Let me walk beside you. Let me taste your burdens as you’ve stomached mine.

“You don’t have to be responsible for me,” you chuckle weakly, attempting to ease the tension, “I don’t tell you things to make you carry them for me.”

“But I would,” he speaks steadily, “I know you wouldn’t ever ask me to,” maroon gaze dark, “But I would.”

He doesn’t mean to be overbearing, but he doesn’t know how else to convey the fragility in his heart; its overwhelming swell of aching and anger — the stark hopelessness of knowing he can only watch. Of knowing he can only listen. Of knowing he can only handle as much as you’re willing to give him.

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER SIX

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

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

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

word count — 8k

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

an — to the anons, thank you for waiting! let me know your thoughts

masterlist

y/n sat in the studio, her gaze fixed on the notepad in front of her. the pages were filled with half-written lyrics, scribbled thoughts, and abandoned ideas. her pen hovered over the paper, but nothing came. her mind was a foggy mess, swirling with emotions she didn’t know how to articulate. she felt like a stranger in her own skin, carrying a weight too heavy to bear.

the familiar hum of the studio equipment was a small comfort, but it didn’t stop the ache in her chest or the lump in her throat. she hadn’t spoken to anyone—not zaia, not anyone. the thought of sharing what had happened felt unbearable. she didn’t even know how to put it into words.

even cassius had tried to reach out a few times, sending her encouraging texts and asking if she wanted to go out with him and zaia despite his busy schedule and desire to spend alone time with his fiancée, but she ignored him. and trent... just thinking about him made her stomach twist painfully.

he’s nothing but a reminder of what i let happen. how could i have been so stupid?

y/n scribbled a line on the paper, then crossed it out angrily. the frustration bubbled up, but it wasn’t just about the music. it was everything. the loneliness. the silence. the echo of her own thoughts.

she was so lost in it all that she didn’t even hear the door open.

“y/n?”

she startled, looking up to see ayesha standing in the doorway, her brows furrowed in concern. “hey,” y/n said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

ayesha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. she set her bag down on the couch and folded her arms, her sharp gaze fixed on y/n. “what’s going on with you?”

“what do you mean?” y/n asked, avoiding her eyes.

“don’t play dumb,” ayesha said, her tone firm but not unkind. “you’ve been completely out of it. you and trent were doing so well. you had plans—events, appearances, everything. now he’s not even speaking to me, and his brother won’t stop calling me, bombarding me with questions about what’s going on.”

y/n’s stomach sank, and she looked down at the notepad in front of her, unable to meet ayesha’s gaze. “i’m just... going through a lot right now.”

“yeah, no kidding,” ayesha said, taking a seat across from her. “so, what is it? what happened?”

y/n hesitated, her mind racing for an answer—any answer that wasn’t the truth. she couldn’t tell ayesha about the night with trent, about how everything had unraveled since then. she couldn’t even bring herself to say his name.

“i... i’ve been struggling,” she said finally, her voice shaky. “mentally, i mean. i’ve been missing my family a lot. i feel... alone.”

ayesha’s expression softened slightly, but there was still a hint of skepticism in her eyes. “have you been seeing your therapist?”

y/n shook her head. “not recently.”

“then maybe it’s time to start again,” ayesha said. “you need to talk to someone, y/n. this isn’t like you. and i get it—being away from family is hard. feeling alone is hard. but you signed a contract. you have to hold up your end of the deal.”

y/n nodded slowly, her chest tightening. she wanted to tell ayesha that it wasn’t just about her family, that the loneliness she felt was so much deeper than that. but she couldn’t.

ayesha sighed, running a hand through her hair. “i’ll give you the weekend. take some time, figure out whatever you need to figure out. but after that, you and trent need to meet. it’s been too long, and people are starting to notice.”

y/n’s heart sank even further at the thought. seeing him again felt like the last thing she could handle, but she nodded anyway, knowing she didn’t have a choice.

“okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible.

ayesha gave her a long look, then stood up. “you’ve got this, y/n. just... don’t shut yourself off from everyone, okay? talk to someone. even if it’s not me.”

y/n nodded again, forcing a weak smile as ayesha grabbed her bag and left the studio.

the moment the door closed, y/n let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. she stared down at the notepad in front of her, the empty lines taunting her.

she picked up her pen, but her hand trembled, and she set it back down. she couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. all she could do was sit there, the silence of the studio pressing down on her like a weight she couldn’t escape.

the stadium was buzzing with energy, the crowd electric as the match progressed. y/n slipped into her seat quietly, pulling the hood of her jacket further over her head to shield herself from any wandering eyes. it wasn’t her usual scene anymore. not since everything between her and trent had unraveled in ways she still couldn’t fully process.

she hadn’t planned to be there. honestly, she didn’t even know why she came. but sitting at home, drowning in her thoughts and the heavy weight of loneliness, had pushed her to move. the match seemed like a safe enough distraction, even if it wasn’t entirely safe for her heart.

trent was on the pitch, commanding attention with every touch of the ball. he looked good—he always looked good—but it was more than that. there was an ease to the way he moved, a confidence that came naturally to him.

when halftime came, she stayed in her seat, watching as the players disappeared down the tunnel. her chest tightened at the sight of him walking off with his teammates, his jersey clinging to his back. she wondered if he’d seen her. if he’d even care.

the second half kicked off, and it wasn’t long before trent’s sharp eyes caught hers. it was brief—a flicker, a moment—but she felt it. the way his gaze lingered, his lips twitching into a small, almost imperceptible smile.

the final whistle blew, the crowd erupting in cheers, and y/n stood, debating whether to slip away unnoticed or stay. but as she turned to leave, a staff member approached her, holding a note.

“trent asked me to give this to you,” they said, handing her the small slip of paper.

her heart raced as she unfolded it.

wait for me in the family tunnel. i want to see you. please. - t

she hesitated, her fingers tightening around the note. part of her wanted to ignore it, to leave and avoid the inevitable conversation. but another part—a quieter, more vulnerable part—wanted to see him just as much.

she made her way to the family tunnel, her steps slow and uncertain. the space was quieter, the echoes of the crowd still faint in the background. leaning against the wall, she tried to steady her breathing, unsure of what she’d say or how she’d even begin to explain why she was there.

when trent finally appeared, freshly showered and still in his team gear, his face lit up at the sight of her.

“you came,” he said, his voice softer than she expected.

“yeah,” she replied, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket.

he stepped closer, his smile widening. “you don’t know how good it is to see you here.”

she swallowed, her throat dry. “i didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

his brows furrowed. “why would you think that? i’ve been waiting for you to show up. i’ve been—” he stopped himself, shaking his head. “i’ve missed you, y/n.”

her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his voice almost too much to bear.

“come over after,” he said suddenly, his tone carrying an urgency that made her look up at him.

“trent…”

“i mean it,” he cut her off, his eyes pleading. “just… come over. we can talk or not talk, whatever you want. but i need to see you properly. just us.”

she hesitated, the weight of her emotions threatening to crush her. but as she looked at him—really looked at him—she saw the same longing she felt reflected in his eyes.

“okay,” she said quietly, the word barely audible.

his shoulders relaxed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice full of something she couldn’t quite place.

as he stepped closer, his hand brushed against hers briefly, the touch sending a jolt through her. “wait for me here,” he said softly. “i’ll be quick.”

she nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as he walked away. and for the first time in weeks, she felt something other than the crushing weight of loneliness. something that scared her just as much as it comforted her. hope.

trent’s car pulled up to his house, the low hum of the engine fading as he put it in park. y/n felt the familiar tightness in her chest, the pressure of everything still hanging over her, but somehow, being in his presence helped her forget. just for a moment. she hadn’t planned on being here, not like this, but there she was, her hand already reaching for the door before he could even offer it.

he followed her as they walked to the front door, the cool evening air filling her lungs with a brief clarity. trent opened the door for her, stepping aside as she entered first. the inside of his house was cozy but had a sophistication to it—furniture placed in soft, deliberate arrangements that made everything feel welcoming, and the warm light of lamps illuminated the space in a quiet, intimate way.

"make yourself at home," trent said, taking his jacket off and tossing it onto the chair. his movements were easy, casual, but there was an edge to him tonight, a subtle tension that y/n could feel in the air. it was as if he knew something had changed between them, but neither of them spoke of it.

y/n settled herself on the couch, letting her hands rest on the cushions as she tried to focus on anything other than the pull she could feel between them. he didn’t sit right away, instead making his way into the kitchen, where the smell of something delicious filled the room.

“dinner’s almost ready,” trent called out from the kitchen, his voice light but warm. “you hungry?”

she nodded, too tired to form a full sentence. “yeah, sounds good.”

when the food came out, it was simple but comforting—pasta, fresh herbs, and a garlic bread that made her stomach growl despite herself. they ate in relative silence, save for a few exchanges about the match he had played earlier. she answered him in short sentences, trying to push the heaviness in her chest down, but it only seemed to grow.

after dinner, they moved to the living room, and it was as if everything started to slow down. they sat on opposite ends of the couch at first, both of them not quite knowing where to start, but the air was thick with something unspoken. something she couldn’t quite place.

finally, trent broke the silence. “how’s the album coming along?”

“good,” she replied, her voice quieter than usual. “almost done. just some fine-tuning left.”

the reminder of the time they had left together, the time they had spent apart, made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t ignore. she hadn’t realized how much she was holding on to, how much she was letting slip through her fingers. but she wasn’t ready to talk about it. not yet.

trent seemed to sense her shift, his posture loosening as he leaned back in his seat. he studied her for a moment, like he was trying to understand what was going on behind her guarded expression. and then, with the softest of sighs, he asked, “what happened in monaco, y/n? you’ve been distant... i’ve been racking my brain for weeks about it.”

she stiffened, the question hitting her in a way she didn’t expect. it wasn’t anger in his voice, no—it was concern. the kind of concern that made her want to shrink away, to pretend it didn’t matter, that she didn’t matter.

“nothing,” she said quickly, her voice coming out a little too sharp. “i’ve just been going through some stuff.”

trent raised an eyebrow, the concern still evident on his face. “it’s more than that. i can tell. is it me? did i do something wrong?”

y/n didn’t know how to answer. the truth was, she had been feeling lost. too many things piled up, too many things unsaid. but what would saying it to him change? what was the point?

“no,” she said, her voice faltering just a bit. “it’s nothing to do with you. i’ve just been feeling... down. it comes in waves.”

he looked at her, his gaze softening, as if he were trying to understand her even more deeply. “you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

y/n forced a small smile. “i know.”

there was a pause, and she could feel the weight of it hanging between them. but then, in the quiet of the room, trent moved closer. just a little, but enough for her to notice. enough to make her breath catch.

“you’re not alone in this, y/n. if you ever need someone…” he trailed off, his voice low, soft.

she didn’t want to acknowledge the tightness in her chest, the way her pulse quickened at the warmth in his voice. instead, she simply nodded, feeling the words sit in the air like a fragile promise.

the conversation shifted, and they started talking about lighter things—his game, her music, the plans they had been working on together. things that felt safe.

the couch seemed smaller than usual with how close they were sitting. y/n was tucked into the corner, legs folded beneath her, while trent was sprawled out, his arm draped lazily along the backrest. the distance between them felt charged, as though the air carried a hum of unspoken words and lingering glances.

“you’re quiet tonight,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her face.

she shrugged, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the seam of a cushion. “just tired.”

but the way her gaze flickered to him, lingering on his lips before darting away, told a different story.

“tired of me already?” he teased, his voice low, carrying just the right amount of warmth to draw her out.

her lips quirked into a small smile. “hardly. you’re like a stray cat that keeps showing up.”

he chuckled, leaning closer. “you keep letting me in, though.”

she glanced at him, her expression softening as her gaze locked with his. there was something in his tone that made her heart skip, and she hated how easily he could get to her, how effortlessly he could unravel her defenses.

“maybe i like the company,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

his brows lifted, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “just the company? nothing else?”

she rolled her eyes but didn’t look away, her cheeks warming under his stare. “don’t push your luck.”

he shifted slightly, his arm brushing hers as he moved closer. the small touch sent a shiver through her, and she hated how much she liked it.

“am i pushing it now?” he murmured, his face mere inches from hers.

her breath hitched, and she felt like the room had shrunk around them. her gaze darted to his lips, and when she looked back at his eyes, she found them dark and focused, as if waiting for her to make the first move.

“trent…” her voice wavered, her resolve slipping with each passing second.

he tilted his head, his hand brushing against hers where it rested between them. “say the word, y/n. just tell me to stop.”

but she didn’t. instead, she leaned in, closing the gap, her lips brushing his in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened. his hand found her waist, pulling her closer, and before she knew it, she was straddling his lap, her fingers tangling in his curls.

the kiss grew heated, their breaths mingling as his hands gripped her hips, anchoring her to him. but then, just as quickly as it began, trent pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his chest heaving.

“wait,” he said, his voice strained, his hands tightening on her waist to stop her from moving.

her brow furrowed, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “what? what’s wrong?”

he closed his eyes for a moment, his grip on her firm yet gentle. “we need to talk.”

her heart sank, and she searched his face, her voice barely above a whisper. “do you not want this?”

his eyes snapped open, the raw intensity in them making her breath catch. “of course i do. do you know how much i’ve fantasized about you? for months, y/n. months. but—”

“but what?” she interrupted, her voice edged with desperation.

“is this what you really want?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “i don’t want to take advantage of you. and i—”

“it’s what i want,” she said firmly, her hands framing his face. her voice softened, but the words carried an edge that made his heart ache. “just this.”

the word “just” felt like a blow, but before he could respond, she leaned in again, cutting off whatever he was about to say. her lips captured his, and this time, there was no hesitation.

“i don’t want to talk,” she murmured against his lips, her fingers threading through his hair as she deepened the kiss.

trent’s mind raced, torn between what he wanted and what he knew he should do. but the feel of her in his arms, the warmth of her body against his, made it impossible to think clearly. he gave in, letting himself be consumed by the moment, even as the weight of her words lingered in the back of his mind.

as the days turned into weeks, y/n and trent fell into a quiet rhythm that neither of them openly acknowledged. it wasn’t anything official, of course—just moments stolen away from the world, tucked into the spaces where no one else could see. he’d show up to her studio sessions unannounced, waiting patiently until everyone had cleared out. she’d find him leaning against the wall outside, his hands in his pockets, that signature smirk tugging at his lips.

“waiting for someone?” she’d tease, her voice light even though her heart always skipped a beat when she saw him there.

“just happened to be in the area,” he’d reply casually, but the way he looked at her made it clear that it wasn’t chance.

those late nights became their thing. sometimes he’d stay long enough to hear snippets of her songs, his quiet praise warming her in ways she didn’t want to admit. other times, they barely made it past the doorway before his lips were on hers, the studio lights dim as they lost themselves in each other.

it was dangerous, she knew that. every kiss, every lingering touch, every whispered joke felt like they were toeing a line she shouldn’t cross. and yet, y/n couldn’t help but indulge. it was almost as if, for those fleeting moments, she could pretend they were something more. pretend that this wasn’t just an arrangement, that trent wasn’t the man she’d promised herself she’d keep at arm’s length.

but then reality would creep in. she couldn’t let herself fall into fantasies, no matter how tempting. this was as good as it was going to get for her.

one evening, y/n found herself at zaia’s place, the familiar warmth of her friend’s apartment a welcome distraction. they were lounging on the couch, a bottle of wine open between them, when zaia gave her a long, calculating look.

“you’re glowing,” zaia said, tilting her head slightly as she studied y/n.

y/n blinked, caught off guard. “what are you talking about?”

“don’t ‘what’ me.” zaia grinned, sitting up straighter. “there’s no way. you’ve got that... i’m-being-well-taken-care-of glow.”

y/n’s cheeks flushed instantly. “you’re imagining things,” she muttered, taking a sip of her wine to avoid meeting zaia’s eyes.

“don’t lie to me, y/n,” zaia said, narrowing her eyes playfully. “you’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

y/n nearly choked on her drink, her reaction only confirming zaia’s suspicions. “what? no. that’s... that’s ridiculous.”

zaia leaned back, crossing her arms with a knowing look. “you forget how well I know you. you never lit up like this for jadon.”

“that’s different,” y/n said quickly, her voice defensive as she set her glass down.

“is it, though?” zaia asked, her teasing tone softening as concern crept into her expression. “y/n, I know how you get. you’re not the type to keep things casual, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise.”

“zaia,” y/n started, but her friend cut her off.

“i’m serious. you’ve been through too much to put yourself in a situation where you’re going to get hurt. are you sure you can handle this?”

y/n hesitated, the words sticking in her throat. deep down, she knew zaia was right. it was different. with trent, it wasn’t just physical—it was everything else. the quiet moments, the way he looked at her like she mattered, even if it was just for a little while. and that terrified her.

“it’s fine,” she said finally, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears. “i know what i’m doing.”

zaia didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, reaching for her glass again. “just... be careful, okay? i don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“i’ll be fine,” y/n said, forcing a small smile. but as she sat there, listening to zaia’s voice fade into the background, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was lying to herself. because no matter how hard she tried to keep her heart out of it, trent had already found a way in.

trent had barely made it through the last stretch of away games without feeling like something was missing. every goal, every post-match celebration, every night in a sterile hotel room felt hollow. now, finally back in liverpool, he couldn’t shake the anticipation buzzing under his skin. his mind was already fixed on seeing y/n, her presence something he’d grown far too accustomed to.

but when he texted her, he didn’t get the response he’d hoped for.

y/n: movie night with zaia and cassius tonight.

his heart sank a little. he leaned against his kitchen counter, tapping out a reply.

trent: was really hoping to see you

it took a minute before she responded, and he was halfway through wondering if she was about to shoot him down completely when his phone buzzed again.

y/n: i wanted to see you too, but it’ll have to wait.

his lips parted, ready to type something back, when another message followed.

y/n: or maybe you could come over?

trent didn’t even hesitate. he barely registered y/n asking zaia and cassius for permission before she sent him the address. it wasn’t the setting he’d imagined for their reunion, but he wasn’t about to complain.

when he arrived at zaia and cassius’s place, it was a cozy scene. fairy lights glowed softly along the walls, the smell of popcorn lingering in the air. zaia greeted him with a polite but distant nod, barely saying anything beyond a brief introduction. cassius, on the other hand, was a bit warmer, offering him a handshake and a seat on the couch.

y/n, sitting cross-legged with a blanket draped over her lap, smiled up at him. “thanks for coming.”

“thanks for letting me crash your movie night,” he said, settling in beside her, his body relaxing for the first time in days.

everything was going smoothly until y/n’s phone buzzed, and she frowned at the screen. “it’s my parents,” she said, getting up. “they’re facetiming from back home. i’ll just be a minute.”

as soon as y/n disappeared down the hallway to take her parents’ early morning facetime call, the energy in the living room shifted. trent leaned back on the couch, feeling the weight of zaia’s unyielding gaze on him. she sat crossed-legged on the opposite couch, her arms folded across her chest in a stance that screamed “interrogation.” beside her, cassius shifted in his seat, looking somewhere between amused and resigned, the kind of man clearly dragged into a situation but far too in love to argue about it.

trent cleared his throat, his brows knitting together. “uh, everything okay?”

“perfect,” zaia replied sweetly, her smile a little too sharp. she leaned forward, her elbow resting on her knee, and cocked her head. “cass, you want to start?”

cassius groaned, running a hand over his face. “do i have to?” he grumbled, though his tone lacked any real annoyance.

“yes,” zaia snapped, her eyes not leaving trent. “because we agreed. you said you’d handle it.”

trent glanced between them, his unease growing. “handle what, exactly?”

cassius sighed dramatically, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “look, mate. zaia’s made it clear we need to have this... talk.”

“talk?” trent repeated, sitting up straighter.

zaia rolled her eyes. “yes, talk. trent, you’ve been spending a lot of time with our y/n, and as her best friend—practically her sister—it’s my job to make sure she’s okay. and honestly, it’s not just me. we’re all concerned.”

cassius nodded along, though he seemed less intense about it. “it’s not personal, man. but you know how it is. y/n is family, and we’ve seen what happens when relationships... don’t work out for her.”

trent’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. “i get that. but i don’t know why you’re acting like i’m here to hurt her.”

zaia raised a brow, her sharp eyes pinning him in place. “because that’s what happens when people aren’t clear about what they want. you might think you’re being careful or taking your time, but if you’re not upfront, it can still cause damage. and y/n doesn’t need that. not from you, not from anyone.”

trent exhaled through his nose, keeping his voice calm despite the tension. “look, i’m not leading her on. i’m following her lead. whatever’s happening between us, it’s because she wants it too. and if she wants to take things slow or keep it casual, that’s her choice. i’m not going to push her into anything she’s not ready for.”

zaia squinted at him, as if trying to read his mind. “you say that, but have you told her how you feel? have you made it clear what you want, or are you just going along with this because it’s easy?”

trent hesitated for a fraction of a second, and zaia pounced. “exactly,” she said, sitting back with a triumphant look.

cassius winced. “baby, you don’t always have to go for the jugular.”

zaia shot him a look. “he can handle it. he’s a big boy, aren’t you, trent?”

trent’s lips twitched in a faint, humorless smile. “yeah, i can handle it. but like i said, i’m taking my cues from y/n. she’s been through enough without me piling on my own feelings. if she wants to keep things the way they are, that’s fine. i’m not here to make things harder for her.”

cassius nodded slowly, his tone more even than zaia’s. “fair enough. but you have to understand where we’re coming from. y/n’s not just some random girl we’re protective over. she’s been through hell in the past, and we’ve seen what it’s done to her. the last thing we want is for her to end up in another situation where she’s hurt or confused or... whatever.”

zaia crossed her arms again, her gaze softening slightly but still firm. “she doesn’t talk about her feelings, trent. not really. and if she’s letting you in, that means something. so, if you care about her, you need to figure out what that means for you. because if you’re not serious, then you need to end it before it gets worse.”

trent sighed, running a hand over his face. “i hear you, okay? but like i said, i’m not messing around. i care about her. i’m just trying to do right by her.”

cassius leaned back with a small smile. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

zaia glared at him. “don’t act like you weren’t just as concerned as me five minutes ago.”

cassius grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders and kissing her neck suggestively, “yeah, but you’re way scarier about it. i’m the good cop, remember?”

zaia shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “is this seriously turning you on, cash. i’m working.”

trent couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension easing slightly. “so, are we good now? or do i need to sign some sort of contract promising not to hurt her?”

zaia raised a brow. “don’t tempt me. but for now, we’re good.”

cassius nodded, his tone light again. “just know, if you mess up, you’ll have zaia to answer to. and trust me, she’s terrifying when she’s angry.”

“you’re not exactly a pushover yourself,” trent pointed out, earning a laugh from cassius.

“true. but i prefer to let zaia do the heavy lifting. she’s much better at it.”

“damn right, i am,” zaia said, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

just then, y/n returned to the room, her phone still in hand and a curious look on her face. “what did i miss?”

“nothing important,” zaia said quickly, sitting up straighter. she shot trent one last look before reaching for the remote, her expression neutral. “everything okay with your parents?”

“yeah,” y/n said, though she didn’t seem convinced. she sat back down beside trent, her hand brushing his arm briefly. “everything’s fine.”

cassius nodded, his grin giving him away. “yeah, just talking about the movie.”

y/n narrowed her eyes, clearly skeptical, but she let it go. she settled back onto the couch beside trent, her attention shifting back to the screen.

as the movie resumed, trent couldn’t help but glance at zaia, who gave him a small, knowing nod. her words echoed in his mind, pushing him to confront the truth he’d been avoiding. if he wanted y/n in his life, he needed to be honest—with her and with himself. and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what that might mean.

trent felt the weight of y/n’s body resting comfortably against his chest as the credits rolled on the movie. her steady breathing was soft, almost lulling him to sleep too, but he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he glanced at her peaceful expression. she looked so serene, her face relaxed in a way he rarely saw during the day.

on the couch opposite him, zaia was in a similar state, her head tilted against cassius’s shoulder, her limbs tangled with his. cassius was gazing down at her with an expression so full of love that it made trent’s chest ache. it wasn’t jealousy, exactly—it was more a pang of longing, a flicker of the kind of connection he hadn’t realized he wanted until recently. his hand absentmindedly smoothed over y/n’s back, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to look at her like that, openly and without hesitation.

cassius caught the look on trent’s face and smirked knowingly, shifting slightly without waking zaia. “she’s something, isn’t she?” he asked quietly, his voice low so as not to disturb either woman.

trent cleared his throat, his hand stilling on y/n’s back. “yeah, she is,” he admitted, his voice just as soft.

cassius chuckled, leaning his head back against the couch. “look, man, i’m not going to give you a hard time again. zaia’s already taken care of that. but... you should know, if you’re serious about her—”

“i am,” trent interrupted, his voice firmer this time.

cassius raised a brow, his smirk widening. “good. because the way you look at her right now? that’s the kind of thing you don’t come across often. don’t mess it up. for both of your sakes”

trent didn’t respond, his throat tightening as he glanced down at y/n again. she shifted slightly in her sleep, her nose brushing against his collarbone, and he couldn’t help but tighten his hold on her.

cassius exhaled and gently shifted zaia in his arms. “all right, i’m gonna put my wife to bed.”

“you mean your fiancée,” trent corrected, unable to resist.

cassius grinned. “nah, she’s already my wife in every way that matters. the paperwork’s just a formality at this point.”

trent couldn’t argue with that. he watched as cassius carefully scooped zaia up and carried her down the hall, her head resting against his shoulder. the sight only deepened the ache in trent’s chest, but he pushed the feeling aside.

once they disappeared, he shifted slightly to wake y/n. “hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle.

she let out a soft whine, her face burrowing further into his chest. “don’t wanna,” she mumbled sleepily.

he chuckled, pressing his lips to her temple. “come on, baby. let’s get you home.”

she let out another sleepy protest, her arms wrapping loosely around his torso, but he persisted, gently shaking her awake. after a few more moments, her eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused.

“trent?” she murmured, her voice soft and full of trust.

“yeah, it’s me,” he said, smiling down at her. “let’s get you up, yeah?”

the drive to his house was quiet, the hum of the car engine lulling y/n back into a semi-drowsy state. she leaned against the window, her eyes half-closed, but when they pulled into his driveway, she stirred, blinking herself awake.

“you didn’t have to drive,” she said sleepily, her voice tinged with guilt.

“i wanted to,” he replied simply, stepping out of the car and walking over to her side. before she could protest, he scooped her up in his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“trent,” she whined, though there was no real protest in her tone.

“you’re half asleep,” he said, carrying her inside. “let me take care of you.”

her head rested against his neck, and she murmured, “how was it? with cass and zaia?”

he smirked. “it was good.”

her head shot up slightly, her eyes still bleary but full of curiosity. “they grilled you?”

“yep,” he said, chuckling. “how’d you know?”

“they’re protective. usually harmless.” y/n murmurs. fatigue still coating her words.

“yeah they they grill all your other fake boyfriends,” he teased, her voice still soft with sleep.

she raises her head and glances a him before shaking her head, no. he froze for a moment, raising a brow as he looked down at her. “just me?”

her head dropped back against his neck, and she shook her head. “no one else ever got close enough to meet them. my dating life and family have always been separate.”

trent paused after her words, his brow furrowing as he processed the quiet confession. her head rested against his shoulder again, but this time, she wasn’t slipping into sleep—she was hiding.

“you’ve never let anyone meet them because... your family’s not around?” he asked carefully, piecing it together.

she nodded against his neck, her voice softer now. “yeah. my family’s away—always has been. did you know i’m the oldest of seven siblings?”

trent leaned back slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at her face. “seven?” he repeated, his surprise evident.

a faint smile touched her lips, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “yeah, seven. it’s a lot, i know.”

he shook his head, his hands steadying her on the counter. “i mean... i had no idea. you don’t talk about them much.”

“because it’s hard,” she admitted. “i’ve never had older siblings to rely on and get life advice. i was always the one looking out for everyone else, being the one they leaned on. but in some ways, zaia and cassius became that for me. first zaia, and then cassius. they’ve always been there for me, but even more now—especially now that my life is like this.”

trent studied her closely, his chest tightening at the vulnerability in her voice. “what do you mean, now that your life is like this? you’re successful, y/n. you’ve done things most people our age couldn’t even dream of. anyone would die to be in your position.”

her laugh was soft, but it held no humor. “sure, i’m successful. but they have things i don’t—love, stability, security. i’ll never have that. not really.”

the honesty of her words hit him harder than he expected. he didn’t know what to say, his throat tightening at the weight of her admission. her family, her career, her relationships—it all felt so far removed from the life she craved, the life she deserved.

“y/n...” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

but she shook her head, cutting him off gently. “it’s fine, trent. really. i’ve accepted it. this is my life now, and i’m grateful for everything i’ve achieved. i just... sometimes, i wonder what it would be like to have the other stuff too.”

trent stayed silent for a moment, his hands still resting on her waist. he didn’t know how to fix it, how to ease the ache he could feel radiating from her. but as her gaze flickered to his, he found himself saying, “you deserve all of it, y/n. the love, the stability, the security—you deserve every single bit of it. and if anyone tells you otherwise, they’re lying.”

her lips parted slightly, surprise flashing across her face, but she didn’t respond. instead, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. the gesture was simple, but it spoke volumes, her silent gratitude filling the space between them.

trent didn’t press her for more. he simply held her, grounding her in the quiet comfort of the moment, letting her know without words that she wasn’t as alone as she felt.

trent didn’t say anything, but the weight of her words settled over him. he carried her upstairs, gently setting her on the bathroom counter. she blinked up at him as he pulled out her usual oil cleanser, the familiarity of the act warming her chest.

“you bought all my stuff?” she asked, her voice soft.

he shrugged, wetting a cotton pad. “course. figured you’d need it.”

her eyes welled up slightly, and before she could stop herself, she leaned forward, her lips pressing against his. he froze for a moment before responding, his hands finding her waist as he stepped between her legs.

the kiss deepened, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. moments like this made her forget the lines between them, the unspoken truths that kept her heart guarded. but for now, with his hands steadying her and his lips against hers, she let herself fall into the fantasy, even if only for a little while.

trent leaned against the kitchen counter, shirtless, sipping a glass of water as he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. y/n had stepped out to pick something up, leaving him to his own devices in her cozy flat. the sound of keys jingling at the front door barely registered at first—he figured it was y/n, back quicker than he’d expected.

but when the door swung open, trent looked up, his easygoing demeanor freezing in place. standing in the doorway were two people he’d never seen before, both with bags in hand, the resemblance to y/n unmistakable. the man, tall and stern-looking despite his slightly squinting eyes, zeroed in on him immediately.

“you’ve got to be joking,” the man muttered, his voice laced with disbelief and anger.

trent blinked, completely thrown off. “uh… hi?” he managed, his voice unsure, as he set the glass down on the counter.

“don’t ‘hi’ me!” the man barked, stepping further into the foyer and dropping his bags. “this is him, isn’t it? the one playing my daughter? jason?”

“jadon,” the woman beside him corrected softly, though her tone was no less disapproving.

“whatever!” y/n’s dad snapped, his eyes narrowing at trent. “you’ve got some nerve being here like this!”

trent’s hands went up defensively, his mind racing. this just his luck being mistakened for jadon, while being half naked.

before he could respond, hurried footsteps echoed on the stairs, and y/n appeared, her eyes wide as saucers as she took in the scene.

“oh my god,” she breathed, her gaze darting between her father and trent. “dad, stop!”

her dad turned to her, incredulous. “stop? you’re defending him?” he gestured wildly at trent. “this is who you’ve been letting disrespect you? this is—”

“dad, what are you talking about?” she asked, her voice tinged with exasperation.

her father gestured wildly at trent. “this! him! the one playing you like a fool! isn’t this the guy?”

“he’s not jadon!” y/n interrupted, rushing down the last few steps. she placed herself between trent and her dad, her hands up as if trying to create a barrier. “dad, just stop. you don’t even have your glasses on, do you?”

her mom let out a quiet sigh, her arms crossed as she gave her husband a pointed look. “i told you to wear them,” she murmured.

“i don’t need glasses to recognize trouble when i see it,” he retorted, though his confidence was starting to waver.

“dad,” y/n said firmly, her tone a mix of exasperation and exhaustion. “this is trent, not jadon.”

trent, still shirtless and very much out of place, offered an awkward wave. “uh… hi again.”

y/n’s dad squinted at him, stepping closer as if to inspect him. after a long moment, he muttered under his breath, “maybe i do need my glasses.”

y/n let out a frustrated sigh, shooting a pleading look at her mom, who simply shrugged, clearly used to her husband’s antics. “he’s harmless,” her mom said, her tone more amused now.

“harmless?” her dad scoffed, his glare returning. “then why is he half-naked in my daughter’s house?”

trent barely had time to process what was happening. the air was thick with tension as y/n's father glared at him like a man on a mission, demanding answers to questions trent didn’t even understand. shirtless and utterly unprepared, he stood frozen in the foyer, caught in a storm he didn’t see coming.

“what do you mean this isn’t jadon?” her dad spat, his tone sharp as his eyes darted accusingly between trent and the still-open door.

trent opened his mouth to say something—anything—but before he could get a word out, y/n came rushing down the stairs, her hair in disarray, eyes wide with confusion.

y/n stared at him, baffled, before her gaze shifted to trent. the absurdity of the moment dawned on her, and despite the tension, she almost laughed. “dad, what? no. this isn’t jadon—this is trent.” she hesitated for a beat, then added, “my boyfriend.”

the words hung in the air like a bomb, dropping with enough force to silence everyone in the room.

trent’s eyes snapped to y/n, his brows shooting up in surprise. boyfriend? sure, they’d agreed to keep up appearances in public, but hearing her say it out loud—introducing him to her parents that way—was a different story. something about the way she said it, so casual yet firm, sent a strange warmth coursing through him. it felt real.

“your what?” her dad barked, his voice rising with disbelief.

“boyfriend,” y/n repeated, her tone firm as she crossed her arms over her chest.

trent felt his heart thump harder in his chest. he stood there, shirtless and vulnerable, feeling both out of place and oddly… special. sure, he’d been around her often, even meeting his own family with her by his side, but this? this was something else entirely.

“y/n, are you serious?” her mom finally spoke, her tone less accusatory but still laced with surprise.

y/n nodded, glancing at trent for a split second before turning back to her parents. “yes, i’m serious. trent’s my boyfriend. he’s been around for a while now.”

“and you didn’t think to tell us?” her dad asked, his voice filled with a mixture of hurt and frustration.

“you didn’t call to say you were coming,” y/n countered, her tone sharper now. “you show up unannounced and start making wild assumptions. what was i supposed to do?”

her dad narrowed his eyes at trent again. “why would i have to call to see my first born? and why are you half-naked in my daughter’s house?”

trent scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment even more. “sir, i, uh—”

“he was helping me earlier,” y/n interjected, cutting him off before he could fumble further. “dad, just… stop, okay? you’re overreacting.”

her mom sighed, stepping forward to place a calming hand on her husband’s arm. “maybe we should all sit down and talk this through,” she suggested, her tone softer now.

her dad muttered something under his breath but reluctantly followed her lead, moving to the living room. y/n and trent exchanged a quick glance, her expression a mix of apology and something else—something he couldn’t quite read.

as they settled on the couch, trent found himself next to y/n, finally clothed, her parents across from them. her dad still looked skeptical, while her mom studied him with a more neutral expression.

“so,” her dad began, leaning forward slightly. “how long has this been going on?”

y/n hesitated, and trent decided to step in. “a few months,” he said, his voice steady despite the situation. “we’ve been taking things slow.”

her dad’s eyes narrowed. “slow, huh?”

“dad,” y/n said sharply, shooting him a warning look.

“look,” trent continued, deciding to lean into the role she’d unknowingly assigned him, “i care about y/n. a lot. i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t.”

her mom’s lips twitched, as if she were fighting back a smile. her dad, however, didn’t look convinced.

“you care about her." her dad repeated, his tone skeptical. “and what exactly do you do, trent?”

trent straightened up slightly. “i play football. for liverpool.”

her dad’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly masked his surprise. “another footballer,” he muttered, glancing at his wife. “great.”

“he’s not like that,” y/n said quickly, her voice defensive. “trent’s not jadon, okay? he’s—” she paused, her cheeks flushing slightly. “he’s different.”

as soon as the words fell from her lips, it felt like a lie. it didn’t just feel like she was trying to convince them but herself, too. because when she thought about it—truly thought about it—how different was this really? trent didn’t make promises any more than jadon had. the arrangement wasn’t built on anything solid, just fleeting moments and unspoken rules. yet, she felt it in her soul—a shift she couldn’t quite explain.

trent wasn’t like jadon, not entirely. he didn’t use words to manipulate or push her boundaries. he didn’t weaponize her vulnerability or make her feel small. but at the same time, there was no certainty with him. no reassurance that what they had wasn’t as fragile as glass.

still, when he looked at her, when he touched her, it didn’t feel hollow. it felt like something she could get lost in, even if only temporarily. and that scared her. because what if this was just another version of the same story? what if she was setting herself up for heartbreak all over again?

but her heart betrayed her mind. because despite the questions, despite the doubt, she wanted to believe in the shift. wanted to believe that maybe this time would be different.

trent glanced at her, his heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in her voice. for a moment, he forgot they were supposed to be pretending.

her mom finally spoke again, her tone lighter this time. “well, you certainly didn’t tell us you were seeing someone, y/n. it’s a bit of a surprise.”

y/n shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “you haven’t visited me in forever, so…”

her dad bristled at that. “we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“unannounced,” y/n shot back, her tone sharp.

trent, sensing the tension rising again, reached over and placed a hand on her knee. it was a small gesture, but it was enough to ground her. she glanced at him, her expression softening slightly.

the rest of the conversation was tense but civil, her dad asking question after question while her mom tried to keep the peace. trent answered as best as he could, doing his best to reassure them that he wasn’t some fleeting figure in y/n’s life.

but even as the conversation continued, he couldn’t shake the warmth that had settled in his chest. hearing y/n call him her boyfriend—whether it was real or not—felt like a step forward. it felt like something he wanted to hold onto.

y/n stormed into her room, her shoulders tense, her hands immediately reaching for anything to straighten or adjust. she pulled at the edges of her comforter, smoothed the books on her desk, and rearranged a framed photo of her siblings she hadn’t updated in years. her breaths came quick, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she paced back and forth.

trent followed her in silently, leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a worried frown. “y/n,” he called gently, his voice calm but firm.

she didn’t respond, her hands busy fixing the pillows on her bed for the third time.

“y/n,” he tried again, stepping further into the room.

“what?” she snapped, her voice sharp, her movements frantic as she moved to straighten the curtains. “what do you want, trent?”

he stayed quiet for a moment, observing her. “i want you to stop,” he said softly, his tone steady. “just… stop.”

she froze for a moment, her hands hovering over the fabric of the curtain before she dropped them to her sides. then she turned to face him, her eyes blazing with frustration and something deeper—hurt.

“stop what?” she asked, her voice shaking. “stop being angry? stop feeling like I don’t exist to them? stop pretending I’m fine when I’m not?”

trent took a cautious step closer. “stop pacing. stop carrying it all on your own.”

she let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “what else am i supposed to do, trent? who else is going to do it?”

he stayed silent, letting her continue.

“they forgot about me,” she said, her voice rising as she gestured toward the door, where her parents had disappeared downstairs. “they’ve moved on, started over, had more kids. and me? i’m just supposed to work. to send money. to be fine on my own. i don’t even know my siblings anymore, trent. i missed their first steps, their first words. i don’t even know their favorite colors or what makes them laugh.”

her voice cracked, and she turned away, her hands gripping the edge of her desk.

trent moved closer, his hand brushing her arm lightly. “y/n…”

“i’ve been alone,” she continued, her voice trembling. “ever since i got here. no one visited, no one checked in. they’re supposed to be my family, but i’ve had to be everything for myself. and now they just show up, unannounced, like none of that matters.”

trent reached out, his hands resting gently on her shoulders to still her. “you’re not alone anymore,” he said firmly.

she shrugged off his touch, spinning to face him. “don’t,” she said sharply. “don’t say that. you don’t understand.”

“then make me understand,” he said, his voice calm but insistent.

she shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “just go, trent. please.”

he didn’t move. instead, he stepped closer, his gaze steady. “no,” he said simply.

her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “what do you mean, no?”

“i mean i’m not leaving,” he said, his voice unwavering. “you don’t get to shut me out, y/n. not like this.”

her lip quivered, and she turned away, her hands gripping the edge of the desk again. “why do you even care?”

he stepped closer, his hands gently turning her to face him. “because i care about you,” he said softly. “and i’m not going anywhere. not now." not ever,

her tears spilled over, and she tried to look away, but he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “you’re not alone,” he said again, his voice steady. “you’ve got me. i’m here.”

for a moment, she just looked at him, her defenses crumbling as she let his words sink in. and then, finally, she let herself fall into his arms, her tears soaking into his shirt as he held her tightly, his hand smoothing over her back.

he didn’t say anything else—he didn’t need to. he just held her, grounding her in the moment, reminding her that, for once, she didn’t have to face it all alone.

trent held her in silence, letting her cry into his chest, her emotions unraveling in his arms. he could feel the weight of her pain, the years of feeling abandoned, of being the one left to carry everything on her own. and as much as he wanted to stay in this moment, to be her rock, a thought lingered in his mind—but for how long?

next

© PDRIESTA 2025

[lendmeurheartandilljustletufall]

Unraveled spoilers up to page 313

WHY IS ALVAR SUCH A GOOD THERAPIST??? LIKE???? WHAT??? POOKIE HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS??? MY BROTHER IS A CHANGED ELF????

[daisylovestickles]

Taking A Break (Trigger Warning Ahead)

Hi lovelies! I usually don't post serious stuff like this but I feel like my mental health has taken a major dip in the last week. All of my posts will take a pause for now and will be stored in drafts until further notice. I will still be online today (Saturday, December 7th) in case any of my mutuals want to exchange discords to keep in touch. After today is over, I am logging off until the new year.

Everything that happened with yourgigglebugmaya has really put me in a state of shock. We were close friends, and most of you know that we even met up in July for a session with a mutual friend. To say that I feel betrayed and disgusted is an understatement. Up until Tuesday, I had that sickening feeling in my stomach, and I wasn't sure why it was there. Until 1:00 am that night/early morning. A massive trauma had unlocked in my brain of when I was groomed at the age of 15. It had been in the very back of my brain for the last ten years and all of it seemed to unravel at once. I am talking to my therapist heavily about it, and still trying to process all my emotions around it.

I've been noticing a lot lately that people have been questioning my intentions with who I session with, and how my romantic partner feels about it. As much as I would like to say that it is none of your business as to how this dynamic is working, it's come to my attention that I've needed to clarify a few things. My romantic partner is not in the community, nor will he ever be. He is very supportive of my journey of wanting to explore this part of my life, both SFW and NSFW. He is very happy that I have found a community of people. You don't need to question whether he is okay with certain things I do. Before every session we have a discussion on what is going to happen, as well as reassurance that I will always come back to him when that session is over, because he is the only one I will ever love romantically. Have we had to discuss certain things as I'm learning more about myself? Of course! But they are healthy and respectful.

Please be respectful of my decision to log off over this next month. I never wanted it to come to this, but I need to focus on myself for a while. Love you all 💛