#desperately trying to remember what i was into actually

[look-at-the-soul]

When you love a woman

Tommy Shelby x reader one shot 🎄

Summary: Tommy initially was trying to courtship Y/N when Grace broke the news of her pregnancy, so he had to step back and be responsible for his child. That was the only reason he decided to be there for Grace. Until one day he accidentally heard a phone call that would change everything.

Word count: 2,200

This was meant to be a request I got but somewhere down the road I decided to change it, no worries I’m still working on the request 🤭

Y/N took a step back to admire the Christmas tree she had been decorating for a few hours, she had a tight budget so going back home for the holidays to spend it at her aunt’s place wasn’t an option unfortunately. She had already made peace with the fact that she’d spend the holidays only with her grandma. Studying the tree it looked nice, she made a few ribbons and added faux pearls around it as decorations.

Tommy was fuming, he walked like a wild animal in a cage, his footsteps could be heard so loud even before he reached her door. It was so late now and unusual of him to show up like this. Specially after not having seen each other in months.

“What happene-” Y/N asked in confusion.

But Tommy wouldn’t let her finish her question, his mouth crashed hard against her lips taking her by surprise. The kiss was hungry and desperate.

One of his hands was holding her head in place while the other traveled down her back.

“You were fucking right…” he managed to say between heated kisses. “I heard Grace talking to someone on the phone, said the baby isn’t mine.”

His words made Y/N froze and she pushed him by the shoulders to look him in the eyes.

“What?!”

She had heard him, but she couldn’t believe his words.

“She tried to trick me into that husband infertility bullshit and she played her cards so well…until now.”

Y/N took a step back, trying to process this new piece of information. Her head was spinning.

She met him right after the Grace disaster, she knew all about his former partner and how she had left to go somewhere else but then she came back into his life, but he had only used her for revenge.

Tommy assured Y/N that with her he felt completely comfortable, that’s why he wanted to do things differently this time around. Their courtship actually started the right way from the beginning, he asked her out on dates, sent her flowers, walked with her on her way back home, he was truly a gentleman. He even started inviting her to the Garrison for a drink, sometimes in his office and other times at the betting shop, They were getting to know each other, but they weren’t officially a couple.

For a few weeks it was heaven, she was able to discover his sense of humor and how intelligent and interesting Tommy was. She still remembered so well when he kissed her for the first time, standing by her doorstep, Tommy cornered her between his body and the doorframe, his fingertips holding her chin while his other hand rested against the wall. It was tender and slow, it tasted like hope and she felt butterflies in her stomach.

She thought she found her chance to be happy with Tommy. But they were in the phase of getting to know each other and little did she know how things would change overnight.

Until one day he knocked on her door looking pale and so serious… she remembered it so well. She knew something was wrong right away.

And how wrong.

He confessed her then that the woman he had a one night stand with for revenge was pregnant with his child.

It took her several minutes to understand what that meant. Tommy would take full responsibility for that baby and the mother and that meant they couldn’t be together. Their relationship wouldn’t continue.

With a heavy heart she advised he shouldn’t leave the child unprotected and that the mother’s reputation would chase her all her life if she started showing without being married. Even though that she had feelings for Tommy, she couldn’t be the reason between he and his baby. And as much as he made his own rules, society wasn’t ready yet for a children to grow apart from their father, even if he didn’t love the mother.

At least they weren’t officially together when Grace announced her pregnancy, so it was supposed to be easier. Whatever that meant.

He apologized a million times, paced the room from side to side in an attempt to calm himself. But it changed nothing, he had to do the right thing and deal with the consequences of his decisions.

Tommy didn’t have feelings for Grace, she knew it, he was clear about that but she thought eventually after getting married and raising a child together she thought feelings would start to show up, that he’d fall in love with Grace and forget about her for good.

At some point she suspected Grace got pregnant on purpose and let the infertility issue drop so Tommy would step up for her child, like a prophesy he was caught up between his feelings for her and Grace’s unborn child, his sense of responsibility and lack of paternal figure won and Tommy took Grace under his protection, even heard they were planning a wedding after the baby was born. And in the end she was right, Grace had lied about the paternity and the mask finally fell.

“Talk to me, ey?” Tommy’s voice brought her back into reality.

“I knew she was fooling you.” She shook her head.

“Hey, look at me… let’s forget about that, yeah?”

“Just like that? And what about all the times I cried?” She slapped his arm. “What if you never found out about the truth?”

A lump installed in her throat, all of the things that could’ve happened crossed her mind.

“Let’s focus on what’s happening.” Tommy’s hand caressed her cheek carefully, he could see all of her emotions in her eyes. “I probably don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I know deep in your heart you can’t hold onto to that forever.”

He was standing right in front of her, with his eyes full of hope, but also worried that it would be late for them, in the few months they got separated because of Grace’s pregnancy they cut all kinds of commutation, and even though he still checked on her, Y/N knew it was for the best, they wouldn’t have an affair no matter what.

“So… you’re free?” She asked with her voice and her heart trembling, thinking of the possibilities.

“It’s over now, there’s no child and no woman between us.” Tommy assured her, his hands on her cheeks to force Y/N to look him in the eyes. “I ordered the maid to pack her bags, and the driver to take her somewhere else.”

He took another small step towards her, their bodies touching and their breaths mixing in the middle.

This new reality changed everything, yet somehow it all felt the same.

“It took me a couple of months to learn the truth, but all I need to know now is… do you still want us to be together?”

Even though they were alone, his voice was just a whisper, a secret between just the two of them.

The thought of her finding someone else crossed his mind, she was beautiful after all, no doubt a long queue of men would be happy to take his place. But could she give her heart away to someone else?

“What about the wedding?”

Although she tried to forget about him and didn’t want to know anything of their lives, she overheard the rumors, there was a big wedding planned for the next fall right after the baby was born.

“If the baby isn’t mine… why would I still marry her? The wedding is canceled. I know I messed up, but I need to know, if there’s still a chance for us?”

Tommy held Y/N’s hands in his, when he decided to step back from their courtship it broke his heart, he had been really looking forward to see where they’d go.

Tommy felt his heart beating hard, he really hoped learning the truth wasn’t so late for them.

“Yes. I do… do you want the same?”

Tommy released the air he had been holding in his chest, but instead of answering with his words, he let her know with his actions what he wanted.

Grabbing her head with both hands, he pulled Y/N for a slow kiss. He needed to believe it was really happening.

Feeling like he had been walking in the dessert for a long time, but he was finally home. He was finally able to do what he had wanted for so long.

Tommy decided he wanted to savor her slowly, without rushing, without hesitation.

There was nothing and nobody between them. Nothing that would keep them apart. Cherishing having her in his arms once more, he could taste her tears in his lips.

“Thank you, thank you.” He murmured against her mouth without breaking apart.

The kiss became more heated by the moment, it was intense and demanding, trying to make up for the lost time. As Tommy’s hand traveled down her thigh, she pressed both hands against his chest to stop him.

It was suddenly so much information in such a short period of time.

“Wait.” Y/N stated breaking the contact, Tommy stared at her disheveled hair and messed lipstick. God she was the most beautiful little thing. “I’m glad you realized the truth before it was too late… but you will have to talk to my grandma, she’s still mad at you.”

Tommy nodded profusely. “Will do.” And tried to kiss Y/N again, but she stopped him by placing a fingertip against his lips.

“And you’ll ask her blessing to ask me out properly again.” She stated firmly.

God he loved to see her like that, bossing him around it was such a turn on.

“Yes. Anything you want.” He tried to sneak his hands around her waist again.

“Who is that, Y/N?” Her grandmother asked from her bedroom.

Scandalized, Y/N covered Tommy’s mouth with her palms. “It’s Vanessa grandma, she needed something. Go back to sleep.”

Tommy used her distraction to pull her closer, he didn’t want to waste more time. Being away from her for a couple of months was enough.

“Ugh it’s past bedtime now, couldn’t it wait?”

Tommy chuckled when she tried to get away from his hands.

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” She tried to push him but it was impossible his hands were like a lock around her.

“Can’t wait for you to take care of me, love.” He wriggled his eyebrows and licked his lips all while giving her a mischievous look.

“Stop it!” She hissed, worried that her grandma would return. “You’ve to go.”

“No.” Tommy stated firmly. Scared that she’d change her mind. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“Tommy I mean for tonight.” Y/N explained, but he shook his head.

“How do I make you understand that I’m not going anywhere?”

“You can’t sleep here.” He stole another kiss.

“Fine. I’ll sleep in the car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Y/N frowned seeing he was determined to do so. “Oh my God, you actually mean that.”

“I need you to understand how serious I am about us. You’re all that I need.” He could now see it all so clear, he was willing to do anything for her.

Because only when you really love a woman you’re able to understand.

And by just one look in his eyes, she knew he was telling the truth.

Y/N could hardly process what was happening. Their relationship ended right before it could even start because another woman was pregnant with his child, then they found out the truth, their engagement was called off, Grace was out of his life and he was able to finally do what he really wanted and not do something to please anyone else.

“What plans did you have for these days?” He whispered, still holding Y/N close.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. “Just grandma and me and I’m cooking a little dinner.”

“How about you and your grandma spend the holidays at my place? Think about it.”

The shock of his plans made her open her eyes wide. They were just starting over, how would they spend the holidays together? That was everything but traditional. What would people say? That one day he was engaged to another woman and the next one he brought home a different girl.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Tommy could read it all over her eyes. “And honestly? I don’t care, we’re doing nothing wrong and it’s none of their business.”

“Let’s take one step at the time, yes?” Y/N proposed feeling more worried about her grandmother’s reaction.

It was crazy to give in so easily, yes. But what options did she have? Pretend to still be mad at him or turn things over and be happy finally?

“Try to get some sleep.” He showered her face with kisses before grabbing his coat and walking outside. “Goodnight love.”

From the window, Y/N saw him climbing in the back seat, he was really going to sleep there!

That was insane, but it was a small sacrifice he’d have to do after everything that happened.

A/N: thank you for reading! I know in today’s world you’d say oh they could still be together while Grace had the baby or he could always take a DNA test, but remember back then those things weren’t possible and this story is based in that period of time… if you want to leave a comment your feedback is always appreciated! ♥️✨

Edit- please don’t come at me, it was just an idea that crossed my mind, the possibility of Charlie not being Tommy’s son due to the bad timing in the series 🫢🤔

Master list

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[melminli]

ex, for a reason

summery - your boyfriend was the sweetest guy in the whole world, but maybe that was the problem.

pairing: kang dae-ho x fem. reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: modern au, angst w/ comfort, fluff

the request.

He really shouldn't worry about it as much as he did right now because the whole thing was just totally stupid, and all the stuff that had been going through his head was irrational. Dae-ho knew that and yet, he just couldn't stop himself from imagining multiple crazy scenarios in which you were breaking up with him - he didn't want any of this, why would he? The only heart that got broken in the process was his and it was all because of nothing.

Well, maybe there was this one thing, and that was that Dae-ho had been feeling a bit - well let’s just say - insecure about your relationship. He was very much aware of the fact that he had zero resemblance to the guys you usually date because he wasn't, well - he wasn't an asshole. You and even most of you’re friends make fun of it now that you two are together and it actually turned into some kind of inside joke that you broke the curse with him. Though, Dae-ho didn’t really feel like laughing about it right now.

This whole thing is so stupid, he thought to himself as he absently watched some show on the TV before he suddenly heard you laughing next to him. He just looked at you shortly and knew that it was probably because of something funny you saw on your cell phone. But, he just couldn’t restrain himself and had to remember the conversation you had a few days ago. He sighed again with a heavy heart at the memory because apparently, your last ex - some guy named Thanos? - had messaged you out of the blue and asked you what you were up to.

"Hey, look who just sent me a text. I thought I had blocked him everywhere?" you exclaimed, laughing as you shoved your cell phone in his face. Dae-ho just looked a bit confused at the message after he read it because he didn’t really get what you were talking about. He read it one more time, though, he was still kind of lost because it honestly just looked like a normal message, how was he supposed to figure out what was going on?

You then decided to reveal the whole thing since your boyfriend just continued to send you confused glances. "It's my ex. You know, I told you about him. The one I dated before we met."

Yeah, he could remember bits and pieces of that. "So, what does he want?" he asked, still not quite sure what was going on.

You sighed at his innocence. "He obviously wants to get back together.“

"Does he?" Dae-ho asked and was seriously surprised. He pointed at your phone while he talked. "But he just asked if you still had his old sweater, that could mean anything."

You waved as you laughed. "Oh, trust me. I know what that means.“ you assured him and thought back to the old days, which was something you didn’t like to do. „We were pretty much on and off in our whole relationship because I always tried to break things off after fighting - but then always take him back afterward. So, it just started to turn into a really bad cycle at some point, I guess.“ you tried to explain. „Anyway, he used to text me about some meaningless thing as soon as he wanted to get back together and this is one of those texts since he's also not the kind of person to send you a message if he doesn't want anything from you. I’m just surprised that he would try this again because I broke things up with him for real the last time, trust me.“

Oh. It felt like Dae-ho should be laughing at your ex's desperate attempt to get back together with you now, but he felt more like ugly crying, to be honest. „Yeah, that is pretty funny.“ he just decided to say with a forced smile on his face.

Since then, the whole situation just wouldn't let him go. No matter how hard he tried to. The way you told it, made it seem like you two got back together a lot and who was to say that maybe a part of you wouldn't want to try again - purely because of muscle memory? He wasn't the type to get irrationally angry over something like that, but he'd be lying if he said that all these negative thoughts didn't make him incredibly depressed the past few days.

"Hey, I know I've asked you this a few times now, but are you sure everything's okay?" you finally asked him when you noticed how he wasn't really paying attention to what was going on in his show. It was unusual for him to be so quiet when usually some comment about what was happening would leave him every minute.

He just nodded under his breath. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," he said, feeling guilty again for being the way he was right now.

You moved a little closer to him and hugged him lightly from the side. "You're lying and I'm tired of waiting for you to come to me on your own because, as you know, I'm not the most patient person on earth."

He avoided your gaze guiltily. "It's stupid."

"It's clearly not, because you've been acting like a depressed housewife for days."

He laughed lightly along with you at that little joke of yours. "And how is that supposed to look like?"

You smiled. "You know, you're like you always are - you make dinner, you bring me my favorite tea, but you sigh very loudly every now and then plus you're also a bit distant." you continued to broach the subject in a slightly joking manner to get rid of the heavy air around you two.

Of course, you would be aware of his bad mood. "Well, I just noticed that I'm not like the other guys you've dated before," he whispered casually while playing with the fabric of his shirt. Even though, you both knew that it seemed to be a topic that was bothering him.

You nodded. "So?" you just asked him, thinking something other would follow since you couldn’t see what the problem was. Though, there didn't seem to be anything more coming. "That's all? You’re upset because you're not like my shitty boyfriends in the past?" you repeated a bit in disbelief.

Dae-ho looked to the side, embarrassed. "I told you it was stupid..." he whispered. "I just don’t want you to think that I’m boring or something…"

You just took him in your arms and tried to suppress your laughter so as not to add salt to the wound. "I didn't mean it like that, but I'm telling you this now because you obviously to need to hear it," you said as you placed a kiss on his head. "You're not boring. You’re the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world and I would never trade you for any of my past relationships. I love you and I've never even said those words to any of my exes, did you know that?" you asked him, watching as he slowly looked up to you. "…really?" he asked you shyly, even though you had been together for a while now.

You smiled. "Really," you assured him and were glad to see your boyfriend in his normal happy state again. However, you then remembered the conversation you had a few days ago. "Was this whole thing about Thanos? You don't have to worry about him. I hate that guy, he like probably cheated on me more times than he admitted." you laughed and stopped when something else came to mind. "Besides, I think he also stole some money from me..."

Dae-ho looked at you worriedly as he held you even tighter. "Oh my god, are you serious? You never told me that, is that why you broke up with him?"

You looked away a little embarrassed yourself this time and didn't dare to confess to him that it had unfortunately taken a lot more than that for it to end between the two of you. Those weren't your proudest moments in your life. "Yeah, sure..."

But who cared about all that, right? You were the happiest you could ever be with Dae-ho and that was all that mattered. Maybe you should remind him more of that because he really didn't deserve to feel inferior to someone like that damn Thanos.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Just a thought and no offense but I think Logan just wants to be in love and feel loved in return.

(This isnt proofread and came out as rambling so have fun trying to read it and decipher it! 😅)

So WE ALL know that Logan can be flirty, and that he may have had a period where he was a bit of a manwhore (*cough* 70s Logan *cough*)

I feel like that period though, and any other flings, one night stands, etc whatever was less out of lust and more of a desperation to feel SOME kind of human connection bc the mans so lonely and has been treated like a soldier, a weapon for so long that hes desperate for human connection, even if it makes him end up feeling depraved afterwards. Post-nut clarity wakes him up next to some girl he met at a bar, and guilt sinks its teeth into him because he doesnt even know her name, much less actually LIKE her. The man was born in the 1800s, he may have grown with time but you cannot tell me theres not some inkling of being a gentleman- and wanting to find someone you truly love, hidden in there somewhere. I think overtime he may fall into this routine, believing he needed to be a walking sex magnet, gruff, cocky, whatever have you because hes convinced its the only way he can have a connection with someone, even if its for a few passionate moments under bedsheets, and an awkward "that was nice. Bye"

It only fuels his self hatred, convincing him that he really his just an animal, looking to get his sick desires out, eat, fuck, sleep, survive.

When we see him in the X movies, as a cage fighter he is brutal and rough and he doesnt seem to have a caring bone in his body yet he still manages to find himself caring about this young girl who stowawayed in his trailer, and does help her, even if he acts like this version of logan he created. Someone who doesnt care. But he cares. A lot.

Its not until he meets YOU, that he starts to wonder if he got it all wrong. Kind, beautiful, smart YOU.

I fully believe that logan just wants a partner. One night stands, flings, what have you, were just him lying to himself, desperate to feel something other than hate. After he lost his memories, and he began just wandering, the concept of love was lost on him. And lust wasnt there anymore either. He was approached by women, perfectly fine, pretty women, all the time during his time cage fighting, bars, etc. He turned them all away- completely opposite of logan 30-40 years ago (my timing probs not right on xmen lol) who was convinced the only way he was living was if he had ass next to him every night he went to sleep because he was lonely. This version of logan, lost, angry, wanted nothing to do with people. Some of it the repressed feelings coming out from his past that he doesnt even remember. He was convinced then that he had to be alone. Becoming a lone wolf that bared his teeth at anyone who tried to pet it. Secretly though, deep down although he wouldnt admit it, there was that deep desire, that he always felt in his 200 years, that he just wanted to find his mate. He'd call soulmates bullshit if you asked him, but the moment he meets you, hed know that it was real, and that maybe god cursed (gifted) him the ability of healing and practical immortality just so he could find you. And hed do it over and over again, the pain and suffering and loneliness, if it meant you would be the endgoal.

Logan is a pack animal. He needed a family, to protect, and cherish. When he meets and ends up at the x-men, his demeanor and attitude changes quickly to something similar to a dog that snaps at you when you pet it only for it to whine and whimper "im sorry, please dont hate me, i just dont know how to accept love.". Hes still wary, because hed never KNOWN a family before. Put aside his memory loss, the closest things he had to a family was a creep of a brother, and a woman who said she loved him under false pretenses (i still dont like you kayla even if you say it was real). He barely knew his parents, and even then that was a lie because his father wasnt even his biological father. Yeah, Logans life was pretty damn lonely, so its no wonder the man is cautious of anybody and anything.

The moment you come into his life though, that bitterness, anger, and meaningless flirting goes right out the window. Hes serious about you. Hes usually cautious, nervous around people but he meets you and its almost like he threw all those imaginary rules he has for himself out of the window.

Look at how he was with Jean in the movies. He barely knew the woman, they barely shared ANY lines in the movie yet he was almost completely devoted (dont get me started on that storyline). Trust didnt come easy to the wolverine. And Kayla- their relationship just shows how much he wants love and to be loved. I never seen origins but a lot of gifsets and read the synopsis of the plot, but i think he had a feeling with Kayla he couldnt trust (remember how he says hell never go against his gut again?) But he so badly just wanted that connection he ignored all the warning signs and did everything to build a life with this woman who not only tricked him, but put him through unimaginable pain both physically and mentally. (Look I REALLY dont like kayla but i do feel bad for her because stryker did have her sister captive). I know stryker is the evil mastermind here, but god imagine trying to find love with someone, only for it all to be a farce, even if they claimed they did love you the entire time- the intentions from the very beginning was far from love.

Oh but when he is in love with you. From the moment he met you, it wasnt love at first sight exactly, more like a feeling that you were it. Hes all about you. He sticks around, under the pretense that he just needed to make some money first, doing some missions for charles, keep an eye on rogue. He cant admit its because he wants to stay close to you. Hes like a feral cat taking shelter in your shed. Stays away at first, cautious of your spspspsp, but curious nonetheless. Completely ignores the first bowl of food you put down for it- or so you thought because when you came back it was completely devoured. It takes weeks of food and spspsps before it finally warms up to you, but after that first contact with your hand and its head- good luck ever getting rid of it. Not that youd want to 😊

Logan becomes a shadow to you, once you become something akin to friends. (Its really more than that but no ones addressed it). He teases you and flirts with you, and its something you think he does with everyone, until Ororo tells you that he only does it to you. Sometimes he just sits in your company, other times hes curious about what youre working on, not wanting to start the convo, but does things like leering over your shoulder (which he may or may not be doing just to he close to you and get a good whiff of the smell of your hair). He stresses when you go on missions without him. He slowly opens up about his past to you when he begins to get his memories back. Trusting only you (and maybe charles) with the truth ablut the man he used to be, and still is.

When your feelings finally do come out in the open though, however it happens, that first kiss, the first time you make love, etc etc. Logans a different man. I mean, hes still that cocky, grumpy person we all know and love. But he carried himself differently. Hes confident and wiser, hes comfortable, and hes happy. He found a home, his pack. And maybe after countless conversations about his past, the things hes done, and the comforting words and understandings you give him, he starts to learn that he isnt so bad, because if you love him, YOU, the most wonderful person hes ever known in 200 years, love him despite all of his violence and hatred and slight whoreish tendecies back in the 70s...then he must be alright.

He doesnt need to worry about his past anymore, when hes got you, right there with him, promising a loving future together.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Succubus Ellie x fem! reader

Content / warnings: 18+ content, succubus Ellie, virgin (kind of a loser) reader, Ellie is super shady and you're horny & oblivious, corruption kink, oral sex (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), spit play, strength kink, Ellie gets increasingly more aggressive/stronger, biting (and some blood), nipple stimulation, mentions of stretch marks on reader's thighs bc I personally love them

Word count: 2.3k

You're a lesbian in a small religious town, and all you've got going for you is reading and your own apartment. It's not your fault that you get desperate enough to check out a book on demonology, summon a literal succubus, and sign a contract stating that you belong to said succubus.

Libraries have about every book you can think of.

Some may not have the most interesting options, but upon searching enough, you can truly find anything. You love reading. You love scanning over the ink-littered pages for hours until your brain is fried from trying to make sense of a complex plot. You get off on reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein because pretty words just do it for you. There is something about losing yourself in Edgar Allen Poe’s poetry that makes your blood hot. You know it’s fucked up, and yet you have no shame searching throughout your small town’s local library for something new.

Perhaps it’s just growing up in an isolated town that makes you find entertainment in the concept of everything all at once–literature truly has it all. There is no limit to what an author can write onto an unlimited amount of pages. You’d rather stay underneath your blanket with a flashlight at four in the morning than actually socialize (unless it’s on reddit, like a freak). Sometimes, you do get lonely though. Books don’t satiate your physical needs, and no amount of masturbation with a vibrator from an adult store a few towns over will truly make you cum like a woman could. You know that, but do nothing about it. You downloaded a dating app only to delete it when you had to set your profile picture. 

That is exactly why you find yourself in the occult section of your lovely local library scanning through books to find one about demons. Unsurprisingly for a library in the middle of a religious town, there are little to no books on the subject. Just one. Demons and Demonology.

You’re lonely, remember? Summoning a succubus is a low blow even for you, though. You don’t meet the librarian’s judgemental gaze, and you rush home to your humble apartment to hopefully read all about demonology, specifically the sexual kind. Little do you know what is in store for you.

Succubus are romanticized in the media; pretty women who seduce humans and sexually drain them. That sounds appealing to many who can imagine someone sleeping with them so willingly, something that you fall victim to simply because you’re lonely. That is exactly what demons prey on, though. People who are lonely and vulnerable. But did you ever really think that a malicious soul could give you one night of pleasure and stop there? 

You light the candles in just a cute, lacy tank top and a pair of white cotton panties. Your feet are cold, so you do have these little patterned, fuzzy socks on. You look desperate, but why would you need pants? A succubus wants to fuck you. You definitely don’t want to be wearing any pants for that. 

And before your very eyes is a woman you will grow to wish you never summoned. 

Dark, auburn hair with sneaky strays that you wish to tuck behind her ears as she fucks you. You’d like to tug on that hair or grasp at it with her lips tending to your clit. Your thoughts are flooded and you can’t even categorize each filthy need upon each beautiful feature your eyes are granted. Your lust is beyond repair.

Your brain should realize that all of the feelings you cling to involving this girl are persuaded by simple vulnerability and need. Her appearance isn’t humanlike. She is a demon, and she has resources to lure you in. You should be realizing how unsafe you are with this girl, not hoping that she will fill you until sunrise. You don’t realize, though. Instead, you find yourself looking up at her as she stands in front of where you sit on your bed. 

“You summoned me, huh?” Her eyes are unbelievably green, vivid in different shades that make you want to squint. 

“Well, yes.”

Such a simple answer, but she appreciates that you are getting straight to the point. Some girls waste her time with nerves and stuttering, but you know exactly what you want. She almost feels sorry for you.

The succubus seems to know where your drawer with your journal is already. She rips out a page and grabs one of your black ink pens, throwing it precisely onto your lap. 

“Sign yourself to me.” 

You look up at her quickly, brows slightly furrowed in confusion. The demon sighs, impatient.

“Don’t you know how this works? You have to write it out. You write out your full name, mine, and that you give yourself to me. Otherwise, I can’t touch you.”

In all honesty, Ellie is a little nervous that you’ll back out. You seem like a smart girl. Maybe you’ll realize that signing yourself up for “giving yourself” to a demon is simply foolish. She finds herself feeling something akin to disappointment when you scribble down your name. 

“My name’s Ellie. Write it down somewhere, it doesn’t matter where. All I need is our names, and something that states that you’re mine.” 

Ellie. You write that down.

Once you dot that final period, Ellie is done with the whole patient act. She grabs your sock-clad ankles with rough hands, pulling you to lay down with your ass just off the bed. You squeal in surprise, but she pays no mind. She hasn’t had a virgin in a long damn time, and she is starving to make you cum for her. 

Her hips part your legs and she leans down to press hungry, sloppy kisses onto your pulse. You feel like you’re about to explode with need, pressure within you building, but with no stimulation. Nobody has ever touched you like this. You’ve never felt a person’s tongue swirl over your collarbone, or you’d realize that this feeling of pure need isn’t in the amount that a human should even be able to feel.

“I need you.” You plead with her, fingers pulling at strands of short hair. This seems to encourage her in ways you didn’t expect, because Ellie is already kneading your tits through fabric, fingertips rolling stiffening nipples with ease.

“Tell me what you want most.” She buries her face into your sternum, hands making haste of pulling the flimsy tank top over your body. 

“I want you to touch me.” 

Ellie grabs your face, hands unfortunately leaving your tits. “Nuh-uh, none of that vague bullshit. Tell me exactly where. How. I need to know.” There is an aggression in her voice that makes your heart drop and your clit throb.

You trail your hand down to the soft fabric of your panties and Ellie doesn’t care that you skimp out on actually telling her. She only peels them down to your ankles and tosses them carelessly. Before you can even beg for her touch, she grabs your hips and throws you into the middle of your bed in a flash. Your head is spinning from the action, the logical part trying to make sense of how she could pick you up and toss you so quickly like you weigh nothing to her.

Before you can register her next actions, her tongue is tracing foreign patterns onto your thighs and her hands are forcing your legs wide. 

“Say you want me to fuck you and ruin you.” Sharp teeth sink into your left inner thigh, branding you. 

“I want you to fuck me, please.” Your voice is breathless, your hips are shifting with impatience and need.

“And you want me to ruin you? Ruin this pussy for anyone but me?”

You let out a whorish whine at her words, a sound you want to be embarrassed about, but your brain can’t grasp the idea of protecting your dignity. 

“So fucking needy, I’m about to have the time of my life taking you apart.” She snorts at the way you try to pull her mouth down onto your sex, but to no avail. She wants you at your most needy so that she can milk every drop of pleasure from your body until you’re a panting, sweaty, and fucked out mess.

It feels like forever since she has been between your thighs, tongue swirling over stretch marks and fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. 

“Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you to fuck me.” You’re a mess beneath her, desperately trying to lift your hips enough to feel her tongue swipe over your clit. Instead, all you get is her warm breath over your aching pussy. You’ve been begging relentlessly, and you can’t tell if it’s working or not. 

Until you feel her spit drip from the hood of your clit, further down to your perineum. You gasp at the sudden warmth, and your legs squirm within the hold her hands have on them. You’ve been soaked for a while now, but it seems that Ellie thinks that your pussy wasn’t wet enough. 

You can’t even get out another round of begging before you feel her wet tongue slide up between your pussy lips and dig into your clit. You jolt and pull her head down, wanting to feel completely connected. You want her mouth onto you without any separation after so much teasing. 

The more pleasure flows through you that Ellie causes, the stronger her hold on you gets. You don’t seem to think much of it within your horny haze, but her nails grow sharper than your soft skin would like them to be, and her hold is more firm and decreasingly human-like, but the way she just eats you up makes you forget it all. It doesn’t matter now, you already signed yourself off to this. 

She is a succubus. You can’t be surprised when she moans like a goddess when you feel a particular jolt of pleasure in your body or when your free hand grasps your bedsheets for support. It’s a dangerous kind of perfection; even when you don’t physically show that her lips suckling onto your clip makes your vision blurry, she somehow knows and spreads you further.

You’ve never felt like this before. You’ve finger your own pussy and used vibrators in the past, but this is otherworldly. You wonder how you could ever live without this. You know that after you’re all fucked and spent, every bit of your need satiated, that you will never be able to have sex with a regular person. That should scare you enough to beg and cry for her to rip up the contract and leave, but there is a knot in your stomach that needs to snap in half. Ellie scratches every inch inside you, knows where you need her. When you crave her tongue deep inside your pussy, her taste buds are suddenly printed onto your inner walls, curling up into your sweet spot. When her mouth isn’t on your clit, her nose steadily fucks it. As if you need any of that to simply cum, though. Just grinding your pussy against her face in such a shameful manner as you’re doing now could be enough. That isn’t how this works, though. She needs you feeling the best.

You feel her middle finger part your folds and slip into your hole, and the feeling of another’s fingers inside of you besides your own for the first time is an experience that you simply will never be able to forget. She reaches places inside of you that you didn’t know about whilst flicking her tongue over your clit at a steady pace. You soon feel another finger inside you, and you realize how truly deep her digits can reach. How nicely they can stretch you, make you feel all full and warm. 

Her tongue pulls away from your clit, her thumb replacing it. The view above you makes you wonder how you’ve lasted this long. She leaves bites all along your navel while fucking you into a whining mess. 

“Fuck, you’re just so tight for me. Pussy needed to be ruined, didn’t it? You needed this.” She sounds breathless, and you can’t even dwell on it because suddenly her teeth, which are noticeably sharper than before, are sinking into your hip. You cry out, and she soothes you with her tongue as it laps up some blood that trickled out of the bite. 

Her fingers make your pussy squelch as they drill in and out of you and curl deep within your insides. You feel tears form in the corners of your eyes from the pure, unfiltered pleasure she sends through your body. 

“C’mon, baby. I need you to cum. Give it to me.”

When her mouth trails up to suck on one of your nipples, swirling over the soft bud like she did your clit, you cum hard. 

There are no words to describe the way a demon can drain your body. It should be labeled horrific, not in a goreish way or in a truly depraved sense, but instead, in a way that leaves you truly ruined. You’re hers, now. Not that she plans on fucking you again, unless you really leave a good mark on her. The feelings that flow through you and transfer over to her are ones you’ll never be able to replicate again. No amount of one-night stands or kink-finding will lead you back to this orgasm. No book can make you feel hooked again, not after the feeling of her nails digging into your skin. It’s almost sad that your first time will actually fuck you up like this. If Ellie is able to feel any sort of guilt for you, she’ll find herself back in your bed. She can do that now. You signed yourself over to her, whenever she wants you. You’ll never find it in you to hate it, either. You’ll crave her so much that anytime she comes back to take care of you and feed off of your need, you will be begging on your knees for just one more orgasm from her. 

For now, you simply lay limp in your bed, body aching and covered in marks from someone who isn’t even human. The bites on you won’t leave your body, and you’ll be lucky if the hickeys fade. You can only hope that she will visit you again soon and give you what you need.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 22 - 'I'm Sorry' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.1 k

You sat cross-legged on Trent’s bed, your phone resting limply in your hand as you watched your screen light up. Your phone rang with a call from Layla.  Your thumb hovered over her name, hesitant to answer. It continued to vibrate as you built up your courage.  You answered slowly, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you’d been on for days before her voice came through, soft and careful.

“Alright, babe?” she asked. Her tone alone made your chest tighten. You hesitated for a second, swallowing the lump in your throat before replying. 

“Yeah… uh, actually a little better. I need to see you to explain.” Your voice was small, weak even, but there was a flicker of resolve in it.

“Okay. Better is good,” Layla said gently, but her concern was palpable. There was a brief pause before she continued, almost sheepishly. “Just wanted to see if you saw that invite come through.” You frowned, confused for a moment before remembering the notification you’d ignored earlier. The invite from Shelby—one of your mutual friends—to a Manchester United end-of-season party. You’d skimmed it, immediately feeling your stomach drop at the thought of Josh possibly being there. “I’ll do what you want,” Layla continued, sensing your hesitation. “I imagine all those lads are going. I don’t want you going, obviously…” She expressed but you cut her off, your voice sharper than intended, you didn’t want to ruin the beginning of her summer.  

“Lay, you go. You and Shelbs will have fun. It’s just a big party. I just… I can’t be near—” You paused, your throat tightening at the thought of him. “Josh,” you finally said, his name burning your tongue. “I don’t know… I’m so scared of him, so please just be careful.” You cautioned her. Layla’s inhale was sharp. You could feel her anger brewing through the phone. 

“God, I’m so sorry, babe. I fucking hate him. But seriously, do you want me to come be with you tonight? I’m worried. I’m here for you.” She offered sincerely. You closed your eyes, her offer tempting, but you knew what you needed. You needed to stay put.  

“No, have fun. I… I…” You stuttered, trying to work up the courage to tell her your plans for the night. “I’m with T. I just need to be with him,” you admitted, your voice cracking as emotions began to resurface.

“Oh…” Layla paused, the shock evident in her tone. “So… you’re with him?” She asked curiously but not judgmentally. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, tears stinging your eyes again. “We’re… Or I… I just need to talk to him. Lay, Josh threatened him with a video of us. Somehow he got a video of me and him. It’s a total fucking mess. He said he didn’t hook up with Jess. And I’m terrified, but I just feel safer with him. I can’t go anywhere. I wa- I need to be with him.” You whimpered embarrassed by your dependency on Trent. The ebb and flow of your trust in him was expectedly concerning to your best friend. Layla’s response was immediate, her voice laced with fury. 

“Fucking hell. I’ll kill him.” She snapped imaging Josh’s smug look having a video like that in his possession. She paused when she heard your sharp inhale, realizing she needed to rein it in. “I’m sorry. I know. You are safe with Trent, Y/N. Be with him. He loves you.” She cooed. Her words offered some comfort, but you still felt unsteady and she could sense it. “Should I not…” she started, trailing off, you knew she’d not go tonight if you’d prefer that but it wasn’t what you wanted. 

“No, no, no,” you interjected quickly. “Please, go. It’s not like it’s his party or something. He can’t control everyone.” Layla nodded even though you couldn’t see her, your words sinking in. 

“Okay, but Josh can’t control you either, babe. We’ll handle this. Just be with Trent tonight. Someone who just wants to protect you.” Her voice softened as she reassured you.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Love you. You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime,” Layla said firmly, her support unwavering. When the call ended, the silence in Trent’s room felt deafening, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel entirely alone. Layla believed in you. Trent wanted to protect you. Maybe you could start believing in yourself again, too. The call ended, and you stared blankly at your phone, Layla’s words echoing in your mind: ‘You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime.’ The reassurance was meant to soothe you, but it only amplified the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. You set the phone down on the edge of your bed, your fingers trembling slightly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears creeping back into your eyes, but you closed them tightly, willing yourself to stay composed. It wasn’t working. You leaned forward, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop the flood, but the effort only made the sob that escaped your throat sharper. Everything felt like too much—Josh’s threats, the fear that he still had control, the relief and heartbreak of being with Trent again. It was all tangling inside of you like a knot you couldn’t undo. You got up and made your way to the en-suite of his room in an effort to try to compose yourself before Trent came up for bed. 

The room felt heavy and silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It made the en-suite feel cold, sterile, like it was closing in around you. You sat on the edge of the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. Your reflection stared back at you, pale and tear-streaked, eyes rimmed red. You barely recognized yourself. But then you noticed the earrings. The tiny gold butterfly pinned on your left ear, and the delicate blue one in your right. They shimmered faintly under the bathroom’s light, and your chest tightened. The earrings had been a gift from Trent, a token of the promise you’d made to each other when your relationship had finally begun. He had chosen them because they reminded him of you—fragile yet strong, beautiful, unique. But also your relationship; this evolving thing. Now, though, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you might lose. Your trembling fingers brushed over the butterflies, your heart aching as memories of that morning came flooding back. The way Trent had looked at you when he gave them to you, his voice soft as he told you how much you meant to him. How special you were. You’d been so happy, so sure that he was your safe place in a world that had hurt you too many times. Now, you didn’t know what to believe. You gripped the butterflies tighter, as if they could ground you. For a moment, you thought about taking them out—ripping away the reminder of everything that had fallen apart. But you couldn’t. Something in you refused to let them go. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the way Trent had looked at you earlier in the greenhouse, his eyes full of love and regret, like he’d carry the weight of your pain if he could. Or maybe it was the act that you felt like you got a momentary reminder from your mum there that he was good. You let out a shaky breath and placed your hands on the counter, trying to steady yourself. Slowly, you reached for the tap, splashing cold water on your face. The coolness jolted you back to the present, and you let out a deep exhale, watching the water drip down your reflection. The earrings still caught the light. A tiny flicker of beauty in the midst of your heartbreak. You couldn’t let Josh take this from you. You couldn’t let him win. You grabbed a towel and patted your face dry before turning toward the door. Trent would be waiting for you. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way through this. One fragile step at a time.

That night, as you curled into Trent’s chest, his familiar warmth began to ease the chill that had settled into your bones. His arm was draped securely around you, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. The comfort of his touch usually calmed you, but tonight it wasn’t enough. Fear and worry churned in your chest, refusing to let you rest.

“Baby, I’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice small and trembling. The admission felt heavy, like you were unburdening yourself but also laying bare your vulnerability. Trent’s hand stilled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry I hurt you the other night. I never wanted to.” His apology tugged at your heart, but the knot of fear inside you refused to unravel. 

“He’s going to release it, T,” you said, your words barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. “If he finds out about us, he’ll release it.” Trent’s entire body tensed beneath you. His arm around you tightened, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing within him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and brimming with anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that lad,” he growled, the words cutting through the quiet room like a blade. “I am fucking fuming. I will fucking kill him. He can’t hurt you. He can’t fucking touch you.” His grip on you grew firmer, not out of aggression but out of his overwhelming need to protect you. Yet, in that moment, the intensity of his voice and the pressure of his hold sent you spiraling. Memories of Josh resurfaced like an unrelenting tide—his hands gripping you too tightly, his voice sharp and cruel, his presence suffocating and inescapable. Your breath hitched, and tears began to spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless. Your chest heaved with silent sobs as your body trembled against Trent’s. “Ah, fuck,” Trent muttered, his voice breaking as he realized what was happening. He immediately loosened his hold, his hands moving to cup your face and pull you back slightly so he could see you. “Fuck, pretty girl. Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. C’mere. I got you. I got you.” He wrapped you back into his arms, but this time his touch was featherlight, as if he were afraid of breaking you further. He pressed kiss after kiss into your hair, murmuring apologies and reassurances as you sobbed against his chest. “It’s okay,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here.” His words started to sink in, soothing the jagged edges of your fear. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear grounded you, steadying your breathing and slowing your tears. “What he’s doing is fucking extortion,” Trent muttered after a moment, his tone calmer but still resolute. “He can’t blackmail us. I’m speaking with Ty first thing. We’ll handle it legally. No one is taking my baby away from me. No one. Not now. Promise.” His words carried a sincerity—a vow that he would protect you at all costs. You sniffled, your face still buried in his chest, and nodded weakly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Trent said, pulling back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks on your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You’re my whole world, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I swear it.” You blinked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes anchoring you. His touch, so gentle and steady, reminded you that despite everything, this was the man who loved you unconditionally.

“You promise?” you asked softly, your voice cracking.

“I promise,” Trent said firmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” You exhaled shakily and let yourself melt into his arms again, his embrace wrapping you in a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in days. Despite the chaos that awaited, in this moment, you knew you weren’t alone but you couldn’t fight back the tears. Josh had hurt you too deeply. You were battered and cruises and the cracks in your resilience were starting to show. You were breaking down.

You buried your face deeper into Trent’s chest, your tears soaking through his shirt as you clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His arms wrapped around you firmly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other traced gentle circles on your back. He didn’t speak much more at first, letting you cry. The weight of everything—Josh, the video, the fear, the shame, and even your own complicated feelings about Trent—poured out of you in waves. Each sob tore at his heart. Trent had never felt so helpless. He wanted to take all of it away: the pain, the fear, the scars left by people who should never have been close to you. But he knew he couldn’t. All he could do was hold you through it.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered after a long stretch of silence. Your voice was weak and strained, like the words were dragging out pieces of you as they left your mouth.

“Sorry? For what, baby?” Trent asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they fell, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“For… for being like this,” you whispered, ashamed. You couldn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the fabric of his shirt where your tears had left dark stains. “For being such a mess. For making things so hard.” You kept on trying to rationalize your apology, hoping maybe he'd understand.

“Y/N, stop, serious,” he said gently but firmly, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His eyes were glassy, the tears he’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever apologize for feeling. For hurting. For being human. You’re not a mess, pretty girl. You’re my girl. And I love you, okay? All of you. Every single bit.” The sincerity in his voice broke you all over again, and the tears started fresh. Trent pulled you back into his arms, rocking you slightly as he whispered reassurances. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself trust that someone could hold you through your brokenness, that you didn’t have to hide or pretend. But as the minutes stretched on, the weight of Josh’s threats crept back in, darkening the tiny flicker of hope Trent had sparked in you.

“Baby, no, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “What if Josh does something? I’m serious, what if he releases the video? It would ruin you, T. Your career, your reputation… everything. I don’t know if I could handle that. I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.” Trent’s body tensed beneath you again, and for a moment, you felt the anger radiating off him. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, deliberate.

“Listen to me,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye again. “I told you. I’m gonna speak with Ty, but besides that… I don’t care about a video. I don’t care about my career, or what people think, or any of that. None of it matters if it means losing you. You hear me? You’re all that matters, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” His words were like a lifeline, but they also scared you. The intensity of his love felt like a double-edged sword—comforting and terrifying all at once. You continued to cry into Trent’s chest. It felt like the fear of Josh ran deeper than his comforting embrace. But then you kissed his neck out of instinct. It was impulse. It was something you’d almost trained yourself to do. So many times you’d been upset in tear and had to put them aside for sex. You began kissing his neck. Trent’s body betrayed him. He felt all the blood rush down to his cock. You were turning him on but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you like this. Trent putting his hands on you felt terrifying. He felt like you were glass. He pulled away from you and your heart broke. It was like rejection all over again. Trent studied your face, his heart breaking as he saw the pain written in every inch of you. 

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to understand that.” His words made you freeze. His gaze wasn’t one of anger or frustration—it was pleading, desperate. He wasn’t trying to take anything from you; he was trying to stop you from giving away something you didn’t truly want to share in this moment. Your throat tightened, and a lump of shame built in your chest as the realization hit you. What you were doing wasn’t about love or desire—it was about survival, about falling back into a pattern Josh had ingrained in you. Sex had always been a way to pacify, to distract, to feel needed. Your hands had moved on instinct, exploring Trent as if you could erase the fear in your chest by drawing him closer. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through, baby,” Trent said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. His hands gently caught yours, stopping them in their tracks as he looked into your eyes. “Please. Don’t do this because you think you have to. Not with me.” Trent pleaded, begging you to follow your heart and not your hands exploring him. Your heart shattered. You wanted so badly to bridge the gap between you and him, to feel close to him again. But your mind and your body felt like they were living in two entirely different worlds.

“Please want me,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. Your voice cracked, the vulnerability in those three words raw and exposed. You hated how needy you sounded, but it was the truth. You wanted him to want you, to make you feel something other than the numbness that had taken hold of you. Trent’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. His love for you was at war with his fear of hurting you, but when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, he gave in. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it was what you needed. But as his hands brushed over your skin, the dense thud in your chest grew heavier. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. The love and warmth you always felt when you were with Trent were nowhere to be found. This wasn’t passion; it was a mechanical act, an autopilot response. You were setting him up to take the bait, and he was taking it because he thought it would make you feel better but it felt like he’d lost a game you didn’t want him to even play. Deep down, you both knew this wasn’t what either of you truly wanted. It hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. Trent was nothing like Josh but right now you were acting like he was. 

Without another word, Trent had leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but as soon as you responded, something shifted. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn't bear the space between you. Your fingers tangled in his curls, gripping them as your body arched into his. The kiss deepened, no longer hesitant but filled with an urgency that neither of you could contain. It wasn't just desire-it was need. A desperate, unspoken plea to feel something other than the ache that had settled between you. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced your skin like he was memorizing every inch, every curve. You gasped softly against his lips, and he took the sound as encouragement, his touch growing firmer, more confident. The tension in the room didn't dissipate-it lingered, heavy and unresolved-but it was joined by a different kind of intensity. The sadness and fear were still there, woven into the fabric of your movements, but they were eclipsed by the desperate need to be closer. To lose yourselves in each other, even if just for a moment. The air grew thick, filled with the sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as Trent shifted to press you further into the mattress. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, across your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored your body with reverence.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and strained. "Tell me it's okay."

"I want this," you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. It was all he needed to hear. His lips were back on yours, hungrier this time, his body pressing into yours as if trying to merge you into one. Your hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper. The friction between you sent sparks through your veins, igniting something that had been smoldering for far too long. But even as things grew more heated, there was an undercurrent of something else. A sadness that neither of you could escape. This wasn't just about passion-it was about holding on. About finding some semblance of connection in the middle of the chaos. Trent continued kissing you, his lips moving with deliberate care as he shifted to hover over you, his large frame blanketing yours. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for reassurance even as his hand gently cupped your cheek. His touch was tender, as though you might bruise beneath the weight of his hands, and yet his need to be close to you was palpable. You didn't trust your voice, so you let your actions speak. Moving on instinct, you reached for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Left bare save for the soft fabric of your panties.  "Please." You whispered. Your voice was shaky but filled with yearning. Leaning up, you kissed along his jawline, your lips traveling to the warm column of his neck, nuzzling into his skin before you began to suck gently. Trent froze for a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He took a deep breath, conflicted. He wanted to give you everything, but he also didn't want to push you or himself into something too fragile. Yet the way you clung to him, the way you pleaded, left him wondering if maybe this was how you both could heal. Slowly, tentatively, Trent removed his own clothes. His shirt came off, revealing the toned expanse of his chest, and soon the rest of your garments joined the pile on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was his hands, his lips, his touch that truly burned. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firm muscles under your fingertips, the rapid thrum of his heart. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging gently on the soft curls of his hair. He groaned softly at the sensation, his lips beginning their journey down your neck. He kissed your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake, before traveling lower. When his lips finally closed around your nipple, you let out a desperate moan, arching your back to meet him. The warmth of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his teeth, sent shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your other boob, his fingers playing, pulling, and pinching with just the right amount of pressure. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with emotion, but he didn't stop. He lavished attention on your sensitive skin, his kisses, touches, and the slight rasp of his stubble making you feel electric. You buried your hands in his hair, holding him to you, desperate to keep the connection alive. His hands slid down your sides, rough yet gentle as they traced every curve, as though memorizing every inch of you. When his lips left your chest to continue their descent, you shivered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, the way he worshipped you.

"You okay?" he murmured softly against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. You nodded, biting your lip as tears pricked the corners of your eyes-not from pain but from the sheer vulnerability of it all. 

"Just... don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I've got you," Trent promised, his voice husky, filled with an emotion that made your heart clench. "I've got you, baby. Tell me you want this.” Trent mumbled against your skin. You nodded with a whine as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly begging for him to come inside. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock leaking precum against your sopping wet folds. You shouldn’t have been turned on. In a way this was exactly the way Josh had trained you. Your heart aching, sadness engulfing you, and yet your body acting completely normal, inviting him in with vigor. You shifted beneath him to pick your hips up allowing him to guide himself inside with more ease. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible until he bottomed out. You gripped the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself at the stretch. The feeling was enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than how he was making you feel.  As wrong as it was, you both craved this. He kissed down your neck as he pulled out slightly before easing back in slower, fully burying himself one more.  “I love you so much.” He whispered. Trent rested his forehead against yours but you couldn’t look at him. You felt like you were going to cry so you kept your eyes shut. Your head tipped back onto the pillow with one hand squeezing your own nipple as Trent kept his strokes steady. You tipped your head back further as his pace became more relentless. Your jaw slack, eyes closed tight. 

“I love you.” You whimpered with a sniffle as a tear rolled down your cheek. Trent swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He cupped your cheek wiping away the tear. 

“I’m here. Right here.” He murmured. He knew you didn't want to stop. You would’ve been more upset if he did. So you continued on. There was no other noise in the room but the sound of heartbreak and your slickness as he fucked his cock slowly and gently into you. Your legs stayed wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back, making sure he didn’t pull out but your tears continued falling, your body shaking a little. If anyone else did this he would be confused and probably turned off but he understood you, he understood the lustful desire and unfortunately the aching pain in your chest that he was feeling too. He leaned over you, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest pressed against him as he continued to fucked you gently. Your pussy dripped around him. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher. 

“T... I’m… I’m going to cum” You mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name sounding so weak from your softly parted lips. He groaned, feeling himself barreling close to his own release though from the way you were squeezing his cock now. Your body succumbing to pure euphoria and seeing white. He bit down onto your shoulder, his pace growing sloppy. 

“Cum for me baby. Doing so good for me.” he cooed, nipping at your collarbone. You whined and felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. Your pussy quivered around him.  Every little shift was orgasmic. You couldn’t hold in the soft whiny cry you let out. Your lips parted, biting the skin of his neck. Your pussy was sopping wet now, the slow and intense movements had you gushing all over him. The sex was so tender and sweet yet equally sad. “Gonna cum, yeah? That okay?” He asked you through a strained voice as you held onto him. You could only nod again, tears reappearing, toes curled before everything went white, falling apart. Despite the emotional turmoil, he felt so good and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His thrusts began to slow as he buried himself deeper inside you. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. Stilling as his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands rubbed your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way. He kissed you everywhere he could. You just stayed tight to him refusing to break away.  “You alright, baby?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and full of concern as he hovered over you. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, his thumb catching a stray tear. His dark eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your cheeks were flushed, your lips trembling, and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if holding back a flood. You nodded quickly, unable to trust yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, and you knew that if you tried to answer him, your voice would crack, betraying just how fragile you felt in this moment. The weight of everything—of your past, your pain, and the overwhelming tenderness of the man above you—pressed against your chest. Trent’s brow furrowed, his concern deepening as he leaned closer. “Baby,” he urged gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, your fingers curling around his wrist as his hand remained on your cheek. It was your silent plea to stay close, to not pull away. “I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his own emotions. His thumb continued to stroke your cheek, grounding you. “I’ve got you, yeah? Always.” Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears slipping from your closed eyes. You hated feeling this vulnerable, hated that you couldn’t hide the rawness inside you, but Trent’s presence made it bearable. His love wrapped around you like a shield, softening the sharp edges of your fear and sadness. Finally, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression was so full of love and patience that it broke something inside you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice barely audible but nonetheless broken. Trent stayed on top of you, his weight grounding you even as the guilt began to creep in. His breathing was still heavy, matching yours, and his curls tickled your skin as he rested his face between your boobs, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin. The room was quiet save for the sound of your heartbeats slowing, the intensity of the moment dissipating into an uncomfortable stillness. Neither of you spoke any more after your vacant apology. There were no words for the complicated knot of emotions tightening in your chest. For a while, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair, but even that small gesture felt hollow. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't resolution. Eventually, Trent stirred, his lips brushing against your collarbone in a fleeting touch. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name-sadness, maybe, or regret. Without a word, he shifted, carefully pulling out of you, his body leaving yours cold in the absence of his warmth. The air completely sucked out of the room. He rolled off of you and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything hung heavy in the room, pressing down on both of you, suffocating in its intensity. The physical high you'd just shared only amplified the emotional low settling between you. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his profile-the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

"T," you whispered, your voice soft but strained. He didn't respond right away. His hand came up to rub over his face, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. 

"I'm so sorry." He murmured into the empty silence of the dark room.

"For what?" you asked, your own guilt weighing heavily on you.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely between you but he didn’t turn his head towards you, his gaze stayed fixated on the ceiling. "For not stopping. For letting it happen when I knew... when I knew it wasn't what you needed right now." He sheepishly told you. Your heart ached at his words because they felt true, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to regret it fully. He was not Josh, he didn’t want what just happened. Not like that. It felt wrong. Josh relished in using you for sex to rectify problems, to act like he cared, but all you did was just create a new one with Trent. He was hurting.

"I asked for it, T. I wanted it." You earnestly told him. That was true. You did want it, but why and what for, was a glaringly obvious reg flag. A remnant of Josh’s disgusting conditioning. The only way he could possibly love you was if you fucked hin, and so you did the same with Trent. It was fucked up. You watched him blink a few times, his perfectly curled dark eyelashes batting away what you prayed wasn’t the build up of tears. Even though he wouldn’t turn to look at you, you could still perfectly make out that his eyes were filled with turmoil. 

"But did you need it? Did it help, or did it just... make things worse?" He asked you pleadingly. He knew you wanted to have sex with him. It wasn’t about the consent of the act but rather the consciousness of it. The question hung in the air, and you didn't have an answer. You both laid there with the other, the silence between you louder than any words could be. Neither of you could shake the feeling that you'd both taken a step further away from the connection you were trying so hard to hold onto. The room fell silent for a long while after that. Trent lay motionless, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his mind raced. The dim light cast shadows on the ceiling, but his eyes were unable to focus. He couldn’t wrap his head around the blur between the physical sensations still humming through his body and the weight of the emotional aftermath sinking into his heart. He couldn't reconcile it-how his body could feel one thing, while his heart ached with the opposite. His arms rested limply at his sides, too heavy to move. The thin sheen of sweat cooling on his skin only made him feel exposed, raw. Tears welled in your eyes, and you turned your head away momentarily, unable to look at him anymore. You felt defeated, ashamed, and more alone than ever-even with him right next to you.

"T.." Your voice broke through the thick silence once over, soft but trembling. He hummed in response, his throat dry. But he didn't turn his head to look at you still. He couldn't not yet. Guilt clawed at his chest, despite everything. You asked for this yet it felt cold. You wanted it. He hadn't forced you-but why did it feel like he'd done something wrong? "Did you love her?" you whispered, your voice so small it almost disappeared into the air between you. The question hit him like a blow. He blinked, the ceiling above him suddenly too sharp, too vivid. He exhaled sharply but still didn't meet your gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he was overwhelmed-confused, emotional, and drowning in a wave of guilt and frustration. You couldn't stop yourself. You stared at him, inspecting every detail of his face. The way his bottom lip hung slightly gaped from the top, the tense line of his jaw, the crease in his brow. He laid there feeling hollow despite his best efforts to help. You needed to understand him, to break past the wall he seemed to be building in this silence. The insecurity was clawing at your insides, threatening to consume you. Your past haunted you and right now it was seeping into your present. The way Josh had rewired you to think all men were, had you fearing Jess. She was the ghost in the room you couldn't escape. All you could think about was her-her presence in Trent's life before you, the ways she might have had touched him, been with him, loved him. You hated it. Your thoughts spiraled into a desperate need to prove yourself to him, to make him see why you were different. Why you were better. You'd done everything-fought for him, forgiven him, fucked him, even begged him. You wanted to show him that you would do anything for him. But now, as you lay beside him, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. The act that was supposed to bring you closer had only widened the gap, leaving both of you in the cold. This was new to you because this time, the man next to you in bed truly cared.  Finally, Trent turned his head to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, a storm of emotions swirling in them-confusion, sorrow, regret.

“Never.” Trent finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the only other sound were the sheets shifting beneath you pillowing his words. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, really look at him. Trent’s hand stilled on your cheek as your words lingered in the air, cutting through the fragile peace between you. His chest rose sharply with a deep, steadying breath, but the storm brewing behind his soft brown eyes betrayed him. “Not even close,” he repeated, his voice firm but strained, as if clinging desperately to the truth of his feelings. His thumb brushed against your skin, grounding himself in the contact, but you could feel the tension in his hold—the way he was barely keeping it together. “Look at me,” he whispered, tilting your face gently so your eyes met his. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to retreat further, even though every instinct told you to. You wanted to hide, to shield yourself from how raw, how real this moment was becoming. But in a moment of vulnerability… you felt yourself pull away from him. You knew Trent was different. This was different. You couldn’t fix things or gain anything by using sex as a bandaid like you did with Josh, not when real feelings were at play and so the only thing you could do was set it on fire in an effort to protect yourself. 

“Did you ever think that maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together?” you asked, the words falling from your lips without forethought, sayinging something you didn’t even think about. It wasn’t what you wanted to say. It wasn’t what you felt deep down. But it was easier to let those words fill the space than to confront the fear twisting inside you. Trent flinched as if you’d struck him. His blood going ice cold. He didn’t know how to convince you this was right when in the moment you were making it feel so very wrong. You were hurting but now so was he. Trent really thought when he just turned to look at you things would be better, not worse. It was quiet. The silence of the room was deafening. His hand faltered for a moment before settling back on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant. 

“Why would you say that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the heavy stillness in the room. You swallowed hard, your throat burning with unshed tears. His jaw tightened and he shut his eyes and you watched his eyelashes lay on his cheek for a moment longer than comfortable, shielding himself from the hurt; as if he was bracing for impact and so you took the final blow. 

“You said you didn’t want to take advantage…” you whispered, your voice cracking. It wasn’t what you meant, not really, but you knew the weight of those words would land, and you hated yourself for using them. You didn’t mean it but you knew what you were doing. You didn’t know why you were doing it but it was happening nevertheless. You were letting this relationship go up in flames with an ease you loathed. An ease Josh made you have and now you were letting the flames engulf Trent with you. Trent’s eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with disbelief. He searched your face as if trying to find some hint that you didn’t mean it, that this was all a misunderstanding. The weight of the night settled heavily between you. It was unbearable, suffocating, like the air had been vacuumed out of the room. You both laid completely still. You felt like you were tearing down the house you’d built together—stripping it bare, brick by brick, without even meaning to. Ripping the walls out, slashing the pipes and yet only his silence and heartbeat made a sound. There was no shouting, no anger, no big crash. Just the quiet dismantling of something fragile, something that felt too precious to lose but too painful to hold onto in the moment. His silence pierced through you, and yet, it wasn’t cold—it was sorrowful, the kind of quiet that spoke volumes about his own inner turmoil. Trent's hand, which had dropped to rest on your arm, tightened slightly on your arm, his heart aching at the sound of your pain. 

“If you feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Trent finally whispered, his voice raw and achingly soft, “if you feel like I’m in control of this in a way that you’re not… we can’t do this. I won’t.” His hand on you withdrew slowly. It wasn’t harsh, but it left a hollow ache in its absence, as though he were pulling back to keep from causing more damage. There it was. The white flag you indirectly and subconsciously pushed him to raise. He was defeated. He couldn’t win. He felt powerless. He felt so awkward. Like if he touched you again it would change your perspective but if he didn’t it would do just the same. You had dismantled something so quietly, so swiftly. He exhaled deeply, his breath shaky, like he was trying to keep himself from crumbling entirely. It felt like there were worlds between you to now, when in reality it was mere inches but as the night engulfed the room, Trent moved from facing you onto his back creating a distance that felt like something you may never be able to close. Trent’s words hung in the air like the faint echo of a storm, their quiet weight pressing down on you as he pulled away. The warmth of his hand left your skin, replaced by an emptiness that seemed to seep into the space between you. His quiet resolve settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. You had spent so long trying to survive, to appease, to navigate a world where love meant control and touch often felt like an obligation. And yet, here he was—letting you go, even if it broke him. Trent’s restraint wasn’t rejection; it was love. It was understanding. But it hurt all the same. 

“I’ve only ever been in love once… I’ll only ever be in love once. And that’s with you.” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His voice cracked slightly, and the sound shattered you. Your heart clenched painfully at his confession. The vulnerability in his words was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You stared at his profile, the way his lashes rested against his cheek when he blinked, the tension in his jaw as he tried to steady himself. “Just… take your time,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost inaudible. And then, with the finality of someone who had resigned themselves to the pain, he rolled over, his head resting on his pillow. You watched him, the way he clutched the pillow beneath his head as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His back was to you now, and it felt like a wall you couldn’t scale, no matter how much you wanted to reach for him. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered again, so softly you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as the night overtook the room. Trent wasn’t like Josh. He wasn’t trying to control you or force you into anything. But in that moment, the weight of your past, the weight of your fears, was too much for either of you to carry alone. And as he lay there, quiet and still, you realized just how much you had both been hurt in ways neither of you fully knew how to heal. You watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath, steady but strained. It wasn’t just awkwardness you felt—it was guilt, raw and biting, clawing at your chest. You wanted to speak, to reassure him, to take back the words you didn’t even mean, but your throat felt like it had closed up.in an effort to save yourself you had somehow managed to cut off the only thing that was keeping you alive. Trent had let you go, the chasm in the bed now was too much to breach. The silence between you was deafening, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the night filtering in through the window. It was strange how a room could feel so full of unspoken emotions yet so achingly empty at the same time.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room that felt at odds with the tension between you. The quiet was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that held so much unsaid. Despite the turmoil of the night before, your bodies had instinctively found each other, seeking comfort in a way words couldn’t offer. You’d spent hours wrapped around one another, as if letting go would mean accepting what neither of you wanted to face. Trent’s arms had stayed around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you even as your mind raced. The morning finally had arrived, it felt like an unspoken truce, a shared understanding that this moment, however fleeting, couldn’t last. You stayed in bed longer than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on both of you. Trent’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, and neither of you spoke, afraid to shatter the fragile peace. When you finally sat up, the loss of his touch was immediate and jarring.

Getting dressed felt mechanical. Each movement slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the inevitable goodbye. By the time you made your way downstairs, the air between you had shifted. You could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. At the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle. Your throat was tight, the words you wanted to say lodged somewhere deep inside. 

“T…” you whispered, your voice trembling. He was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on a spot just beyond you. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear you—he was trying to hold himself together, to keep from begging you to stay, from saying something that might push you further away. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with emotion. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. 

“I… I just want to say thank you. For… for last night.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It was all you could say. What had transpired last night couldn’t be encapsulated in a sentence or two. Your feelings for him, the hurt you felt would fill volumes and so you settled for a thank you. Trent shifted, his body tensing as if he was fighting every instinct to close the space between you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just… I just want you to be okay.” You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I don’t know what okay looks like right now,” you admitted, your voice breaking. He took a cautious step towards you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he replied, his words careful, measured. The pet name hurt. He sympathetically smiled at you but it was insincere. His heart was in pieces, shattered on the floor right next to yours. “But you know I’m here, right? No matter what… I’m here.” His words broke something in you, and you glanced back at him, finally meeting his eyes. He was being mature and understanding and it hurt. The depth of his care, his pain, and his love was laid bare, and it was almost too much to bear.

“I know,” you whispered, tears welled up in your eyes, ready to spill over. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be loved like this. I’m just so sorry I’m hard to love,” you confessed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  “I don’t know how to feel safe and not push you away when I do.” You whimpered as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Trent’s jaw tightened, his heart breaking as he watched you crumble in front of him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling you into him. His arms enveloped you, one circling your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. You pressed your face into his chest, your tears dampening his shirt but he didn’t care, not one bit. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer every ounce of his love and reassurance. 

“You are the easiest girl to love, pretty girl. And I will love you in whatever way and any way you need me to love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. His grip tightened slightly, as though he was memorizing the feel of you in his arms, just in case it would be the last time. “Forever, it’s you,” he murmured, his words so soft they were almost lost in the quiet of the room. “Just please know that will never change, no matter what you decide you want.” Your breath hitched and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed by his words, by the way he loved you so unconditionally. 

“I love you,” you whimpered, the words breaking as they left your lips. He closed his eyes, his own tears threatening to fall as he held you. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispered back, rocking you gently as you cried. “And that’s enough for me.”

The house was alive with chaos—a sea of bodies swaying to deafening music, flashing lights bouncing off the walls in a kaleidoscope of color. Conversations were drowned out by the thrum of bass, laughter spilling over in waves as the party hit its peak. Layla stood in the center of it all, a drink in hand, but her focus was fractured. Her chest felt tight, as if a weight pressed against it, the absence of you palpable. You weren’t here, and while you’d told her to have fun, it didn’t feel right. Still, she pushed through. You needed her to, even if she didn’t fully understand why. Fifteen songs later and five drinks deeper, Layla felt the alcohol warm her insides, dulling some of her guilt but sharpening her resolve. She scanned the room, her sharp eyes skipping over familiar faces until they landed on Devon, standing by the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, smirking as he caught her gaze. Josh wasn’t here yet—or at least, she hadn’t spotted him—but Devon would have to do. He was Josh’s friend, and as much as Layla disliked him by association, he was her best shot at getting answers. He was handsome, she was hot, they’d met a few times before and maybe there might’ve been some chemistry there but really there was only one reason driving Layla that night. She didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use him.

Their banter had started easily enough, a few playful comments traded back and forth. Devon leaned in close, his lips hovering near her ear as if he had to compete with the music, but Layla knew it was more than that. He was testing the waters, his hand brushing hers just lightly enough to be suggestive.

“I think we’re crossing enemy lines here,” he teased, his voice low and full of charm. Layla smirked, meeting his gaze with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. 

“I’ll cross any line you want,” she whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against his cheek. “But let me borrow your phone first. I just need to text my friend before we leave.” Devon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the bait was too tempting to resist. He handed over his phone without hesitation, his smirk deepening. 

“Make it quick, yeah?” he said, his tone dripping with suggestion. Layla turned on her heel, spinning away with a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. Devon’s gaze stayed glued to her as she made her way toward the hallway, phone in hand, pretending to type. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, but as soon as she rounded the corner, her facade dropped. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating his phone with practiced ease. She scrolled through messages, DMs, and photos, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for anything—any hint, any clue that could tie Devon or Josh to what had happened to you. She dug deeper and deeper, her frustration mounting as nothing turned up. She huffed, leaning against the wall. The blue light of the phone screen illuminated her features in the dark hallway, casting shadows under her eyes that betrayed her exhaustion. Layla was starting to second-guess her plan as the party raged around her. The house felt suffocating, the music thundering through her chest as if it was synced to her racing heartbeat. Layla was so invested in her hunt she barely noticed Devon coming to lean lazily against the wall beside her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her hold his phone.

“You find what you’re looking for, or are you just trying to steal my playlist?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. Layla forced a playful laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder to buy herself a moment. Her fingers worked quickly, scrolling out of his apps and messages, trying to stay one step ahead of Devon’s curiosity.

“I’m just making sure you’re not boring,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a slight edge of distraction. Devon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Trust me, babe, I’m anything but boring.” He cooed. Layla ignored his cocky response. Devon noticed her change in demeanor, his smirk fading as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “You alright?” he asked, his tone shifting slightly to one of genuine concern. Layla forced a smile again and handed his back to him as casually as she could. 

“Just had to make sure my girls know I’m with you. Don’t want them thinking I’ve disappeared.” She cooed, turning into him. Devon grinned, clearly pleased with her response. 

“Disappeared, huh? I’ll make sure you stay right where I can see you.” He leaned into her pinching at her waist. She giggled swatting at his hand with a sloppy smile. Maybe it was the alcohol, but a part of her kind of wanted to actually go home with Devon. She didn’t find anything incriminating, he was sort of sweet and definitely handsome. Her mind was racing though, the threads were unraveling, but the knot at the center was still tied too tightly. She needed to find out more. She was committed for you… and maybe there was a little bit in it for her now. So she played along, laughing at Devon’s jokes and letting him guide her through the crowded house. Her focus drifting from being laser-sharp, every glance, every word a calculated move with intent to something a bit looser.  She’d come here for answers, and she knew Devon had to know something so maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn’t hurt. 

The soft hum of Devon’s snores filled the dimly lit bedroom. Layla sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him, and slipped his phone from the bedside table. Her pulse quickened as she padded to the en-suite bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she shut it behind her. She pressed her back to the wall and sank to the floor with a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone. Devon had been easy to charm, he actually wasn’t so bad, nice in fact, but what she held in her hand right now would tell her the harsh reality, what he really knew. 

The room was dark, the blue light burning her eyes as she scrolled in Devon’s phone, sat on the floor. Scrolling through his messages again Layla’s breath became unsteady, uneven. Her pulse quickened as she skimmed through group chats and threads. Still, there was nothing that immediately jumped out as damning. She finally decided to go back to Devon’s messages with Josh, her hands trembling slightly. The messages were cryptic as she delved deeper. It felt like she was missing something, a part of their puzzle, so she continued to scroll. She almost didn’t want to find more context, even the thought made her stomach churn but she had to do this. Her grip tightened on the phone as she scrolled faster, reading more and more messages. Her eyes darted over the screen, piecing together fragments of a conversation. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. But just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye—an attachment buried deep in their thread of texts. Layla’s vision blurred with anger and panic. She shut her eyes tight. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. There it was: a screenshot of an Instagram DM from Jess to Josh, and then, her stomach dropped—the video attached. The video of you. You, on your knees for Trent, vulnerable in a way that made Layla’s blood run cold. She felt sick.  Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped her lips as tears stung her eyes. The room felt heavier than the silence that followed. Layla sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the dim blue light of the phone casting ghostly shadows on her face. She couldn’t stop trembling. The weight of what she’d seen, and what it meant, pressed down on her like a tidal wave.

“You really are interested in my phone, huh? Find anything good?” Devon’s tired voice shattered the silence, making her jump. Layla turned, looking up at him, fumbling the phone as she tried to recover. 

“Fuck… I was just—” She stumbled out words.  Devon leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was far too calm for her liking. He had a sleepy smile that was handsome but it couldn’t mask what was on his phone. 

“You find that screenshot of the video Jess sent?” he asked, his tone softer than she expected. He smirked but not smugly. He smirked in a way that was sympathetic. His eyebrows raised as if he himself couldn’t even believe he had seen what she sent. He assumed that's what she was looking for. It was really the only thing that tied him and Layla together. The only reason they knew one another. Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise though that he knew it existed at all and still had the audacity to try to be with her.

“So Jess actually sent that... and you've seen it?” Layla asked again, her voice cracking. She needed him to confirm it—needed him to say it out loud so it felt real. Devon sighed, running a hand over his hair, his expression torn between guilt and discomfort. He shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit beside her. 

“I haven't seen it, no. But. yeah… she sent it to Josh. I don’t know why. Guess she wanted to stir shit up.” He cooed gently looking only at Layla, not his phone that she currently was planning on holding ransom until she got answers. Layla glared at him, her chest heaving with frustration. 

“You’re lying.” Her voice wavered, sharp and accusing. 

“Look, baby, I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m keeping my hands clean. I don’t want any part of it.” Devon tried to explain his arm reaching out towards her knee but Layla winced at the pet name. Her eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over. 

“Well, you are playing a part, Devon. You know Josh has that video—of Y/N and Trent, two people in a relationship, in love—and he’s using it to blackmail them. That makes you complicit.” She harshly bit back. He paused for a moment. He didn’t know you and Trent were a couple, let alone in love. He saw you at dinner once, but people go on dates all the time. The only things he heard were from Josh’s perspective. And in his opinion you weren’t allowed to be with Trent. In fact, you wanted Josh instead.

“I didn’t know they were properly together,” Devon muttered, his voice quieter now, guilt flashing across his face. 

“They shouldn’t have to be,” Layla snapped, shoving the phone back into his hands. Her tears were threatening to spill over now, her emotions a tangled mess of fury and heartbreak. “And they fucking can’t be if he has this. This is fucked up, Devon. You’re letting him ruin someone’s life, and you just sit back like it’s nothing? I don’t understand how you can be okay with that.” She whimpered.  Devon winced, the weight of her words visibly sinking in. He leaned back against the cold wall, his hands rubbing his face. 

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You’re right,” he whispered finally. Layla sniffled trying to keep herself together. She was aching for you. “I should’ve done something, stopped it. I just… I didn’t want to get involved. It’s Josh, you know? I mean yeah, I see him a lot, were on the same squad but I try not to fuck with him too much.” Devon weakly tried to explain. Layla’s tears started to spill, her voice growing more impassioned. 

“She’s my best friend, Devon! Do you even understand what this is doing to her? He’s blackmailing her. That video—it’s not just some stupid gossip. It could ruin everything for them… For Trent. And you’re just sitting here pretending like you’re not part of it? Like imagine if someone had a video of you and sent it to the fucking media… Because that's what he's doing. People's private relationship being broadcasted publicly and used to hurt them. Imagine what they feel right now that people like you even have fucking screenshots of this.” Layla yelped with a little more force. Devon sat still, the seriousness of her words bearing down on him. 

“I… I didn’t know it was like that. I didn’t think about it that way,” he said softly. Layla’s comment had landed. Devon felt stupid. He didn’t really know nor care for Trent, they played for rival clubs too after all, but the sentiment still stood. He understood this wasn't the little tiff he dubbed it to be before. He realized what Josh was threatening Trent with. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, some drama between exes that didn’t involve me. I didn’t… I didn’t think of how damaging it could be.” Devon spoke earnestly.

“It is,” Layla shot back, wiping her tears angrily. “And if you care at all…” She shook her head and took a deep breath attempting to compose herself. “You know, maybe about me.” She said unexpectedly to even herself. Maybe she had developed more feelings for Devon then she realized or maybe she was using it as leverage- she couldn't decide but she didn’t care, that wasn't the focus right now. You were. “Or just being a fucking good person and do the right thing, you need to help me fix this.” She pleaded. Devon looked at her, his liable gaze meeting her hurt one. For a moment, it was just the two of them illuminated only by the dim phone screen, the air between them thick with tension. “Devon, you know he hurt her right?” she looked at him curiously. Devon’s eyes narrowed. He looked confused and a part of Layla prayed it was honest innocence. She hoped maybe Devon wasn’t bad. That this was an indiscretion and he was nothing like Josh. If he knew, she could never forgive him. In fact, she’d kill him. “He abused her. The way he spoke to her… Fuck! The texts I’d see that he’d send her. She’d have cuts and bruises all the time… Did you know that?” Layla weakly asked him as tears coursed down her cheeks. 

“No.” Devon responded flatly. He swallowed feeling sick. He didn’t know any of that. He shut his eyes for a moment and then cleared his throat. “He can’t do that. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do? What can I do, Layla?” He asked finally, his voice resigned but sincere. Layla straightened, her jaw tight as she wiped the last of her tears. 

•

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

Next part - Chapter 23 xx

[charmwasjess]

That One About the Temple Clones AU

Here's an underexplored and juicy plot point in the prequels that I can't stop thinking about! Because Sifo-Dyas was killed so early in the new canon timeline of the creation of the clones, with Dooku impersonating him to handle the subsequent details, we don’t even know exactly what he intended the clone army to be.

I think there’s even an argument to be made that Sifo-Dyas intended the clones to be culturally Jedi. Raised and trained in the Jedi Temple(s), learning Jedi skills and ways of life, growing up in a shared community alongside the Jedi. The clones serving not as an emergency button to hit in case of war, but as a support to the overstretched, under resourced Jedi Order in an increasingly violent, chaotic galaxy, one that might prevent the war he foresaw from ever even happening.

To begin, I’ll briefly touch on the galactic situation immediately before The Phantom Menace. Time and time again, we’re given a picture of the Jedi Order that is being stretched to its limit. All across the galaxy, Jedi temples such as the ones we see operating in the High Republic era in the Acolyte, are being shut down because the Jedi just can’t staff them. The novel The Living Force, set immediately before TPM, deals with the repercussions of these shut downs for the people living in those sectors - destabilization, a vacuum where the power hungry and corrupt can come into the space left and make life awful for the people. Problems arise, these systems go to the Republic for help, the Republic can't help due to bureaucratic red tape and lack of Jedi resources, and this creates more bad feelings about the Jedi and a great environment to grow the Separatist cause.

"I always heard so much about the Jedi. I never saw one, but they told me that was because you saved people -- and then you left!" - The Living Force

Enter Sifo-Dyas. As a member of the Jedi Council in this era, he would have overseen dozens of these painful but unavoidable closures. More, he was trained by Lene Kostana, a High Republic era Jedi, who remembered the golden age of the Jedi, all of these Jedi outposts, temples, and cultural centers being open and thriving, and surely filled her Padawan’s head with these stories. When Sifo-Dyas foresaw a coming cataclysmic war that would destroy the Jedi Order, it's not hard to see where he might have made a connection between the pervasive problem that was a lack of Jedi resources, and the galaxy falling further into darkness. In fact, it's exactly what happens in the prequels with a little push from the Sith.

The Living Force novel tells us outright that Sifo-Dyas’s original plan before deciding on the clones was to use his role as a Jedi Seeker to fill the Jedi Order with as many new Jedi as possible to counter the coming threats:

“(Sifo-Dyas) was always in a big damn hurry. Like the Republic would end if he didn’t swell the ranks.” - The Living Force 

Wow, Even Piell, that line aged like milk, buddy!

 Ki-Adi Mundi frowned. “Indeed, sometimes those he brought to us were not even viable candidates.”  - The Living Force 

So, Sifo-Dyas was originally trying to bring as many kids into the Order as possible, and didn’t particularly care if they were very Force sensitive. An intriguing detail, when considering how closely he might have imagined the non-Force-sensitive clones to work in Jedi roles.

Interestingly, he didn’t actually abandon that “swell the ranks” plan - he got his ass fired, so he couldn’t bring any more Jedi in the conventional way. Sifo-Dyas is in a desperate situation here, he feels he's running out of time, and he needs to get as many people into the Jedi Order as quickly as possible. I think you might see where I'm going with this.

“The future should remain unseen, but unfortunately, Sifo-Dyas has little choice in the matter.”  -Lene Kostana, Dooku Jedi Lost

We know he arranged the initial order for the clones, but not how he intended to use them, or saw their role, or even if he would have agreed with Jango as the DNA donor, since that part came in from Dooku.  If Sifo-Dyas, lifelong Jedi and true believer in the Order, was creating something to help defend his people in their darkest hour, it stands to reason that he might look within his own culture for their training, instead of outside of it.

Did he see them as a secret weapon, a surprise help in the hour of greatest need, as they would ultimately function as on Geonosis? Or did he envision the clones being raised with Jedi involvement on every level of their development, growing into keepers of the peace to fill those hundreds of empty temples and outposts and restabilize a galaxy sliding toward darkness?

I think an important clue that supports the latter argument is that as Sifo-Dyas is literally falling out of the sky to his death, he is busy trying to get a message to the Council that he ordered the clones via a recording: 

I've seen a vision of the future that I feel warrants an army. You've disagreed with me, but I felt I had no choice. Therefore I have ordered one: a clone army from the Kaminoans. Something must be done, and I made that decision. - Sifo-Dyas, Force Collector

He's hardly trying to keep the (currently embryonic!) clones a secret here. He seems to think he's done his part and the Council has no choice but to take it from there, and follow through with his unmentioned plan. He has delivered the needed personnel. And bear in mind, Sifo-Dyas did not expect his death to be a 10 year old mystery. He seems to have spent his very last breaths protecting Sillman and therefore leaving a witness to everything that happened. His last words are literally “Come find me!” 

These are not the actions of a man who has set his plan into perfect motion and a magic army will appear just at the right time in ten years. This is a man who is facing his unexpected death and realizing that he needs to tell the Council, who disagreed with him but he clearly still trusts, what he did because he won't be there to handle the details himself. It's almost poignant.

-

I worried about making this post at all because I’m not actually interested in blorbo apologism. Sifo-Dyas’s story is much more interesting if he is a good man forced to go to desperate, awful lengths to keep the apocalypse from happening. Whatever he intended the clones to be, it ended in Order 66; in a way, it doesn't even matter.  And yet, I think there’s something compelling there too, and I think canon gives us just enough - at least make an argument for a culturally-Jedi clone army what-if.

[aureyaa]

Underneath the Surface

pairing: Jeno x GN!Reader

description: You go to your room whenever Jaemin, your older brother, invites his friends over because it's just too chaotic. But then, things take a different turn when Jeno, your brother's best friend, comes into your room to check on you. He has always been this easygoing, funny guy who gets along with everyone, but today, his attention feels different. As Jeno comforts and befriends you, you start to notice that maybe your relationship means a bit more than being just friends with your brother.

warnings: Fluff, mentions of feeling overwhelmed, slightly emotional tone

wc: 1.7k

The afternoon had settled into a cozy kind of chaos. Jaemin, your ever-energetic older brother, had invited his friends over for a casual hangout, and of course, the house was now filled with laughter, music, and the sounds of people catching up. You could hear your brother's voice downstairs, probably joking around with his friends and causing his usual ruckus. But you were just not in the mood for noise today. It had been one of those weeks, and you sat in your room scrolling down on your phone quietly, trying to tune out everything happening around you.

Despite the warmth within the house, you couldn't help but desperately wish for space. It wasn't because you didn't love your brother or his friends; sometimes, it all just became a bit too loud. Jaemin had always been outgoing, dragging his friends deep into whatever whim he had gotten himself into, and you often found yourself getting swept up in it all or quietly watching from the sidelines.

You exhaled slowly as your eyes scanned down to the time on your phone; it was already late afternoon, and you'd spent some time here. You could still try to push all of that aside, but steps made their way towards the door. A highly familiar voice spoke up.

"Hey, still in hiding, are ya?"

Of course, even without lifting your head, you would've known-it was no other than Jeno, Jaemin's best friend. It was something that had never gotten used to: the way he always knew where to find you when you needed space. Jeno had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, not just Jaemin's friend but one who always tried to speak with you even when his attention often pulled elsewhere. There was something in the way Jeno carried himself, calm and easy, which always made one feel that they didn't have to be anybody but oneself.

You didn't have the time to react before Jeno knocked lightly and then opened the door, stepping into your room. There was his usual laid-back grin, but something in his eyes told of a more reflective look, as if to say he knew you were a little off today.

Hey," he said, wandering over to your desk. "Your brother sent me up to make sure you're not holed up in here being all mysterious."

You looked up at him and shrugged, your lips twitching upward despite yourself. "I'm fine," you said, keeping your tone light. "Just… needed a break from all the noise.

Jeno leaned against your desk, looking around your room for a second before meeting your eyes again. "Yeah, I get that," he said with a sympathetic smile. "I know it can get a bit too much down there." He tilted his head, studying you with a quiet gaze. "You've been up here for a while now, though. Everything okay?

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain it all. It wasn't that anything in particular was wrong, but there was this underlying feeling you couldn't shake. It had been building in your stomach for a while now, and you didn't really know what to do about it. You didn't want to unload on Jeno, but the way he was looking at you made it feel like he was genuinely interested in listening to what you had to say.

Yeah," you said, trying to sound more convinced than you actually were. "Just… stuff. You know, life."

Jeno's gaze gentled as he stepped closer, pulling a chair out of your desk and sitting down across from you. "I get it. Life has been weird sometimes." His tone was even, and somehow, that made things just a tiny bit easier. "But you're not going to have to deal with it alone, got it?

You looked up, surprised at the sincerity laced in his voice. This wasn't usually Jeno-being serious was never him, he's usually the one with the jokes, trying to make someone laugh. But there was something about him today that set him off. He wasn't pushing for an answer. He wasn't trying to make light of the things. He was just… there.

"I'm not just your brother's best friend," Jeno said, his voice soft but sincere. "I'm your friend, too, okay? If you need to talk about anything, then I'm here, and you don't have to face everything on your own."

There was something in the way he said this and something so sincere in his words that caused your chest to tighten. For a moment, you didn't quite know what to say. You had always seen Jeno as this cool, calm guy who blended into any situation with ease, someone who never seemed to have a care in the world. But now, the reality of him being so open, so vulnerable with you, made everything feel different. You felt a strange flutter in your stomach, but you pushed it away, not ready to examine it just yet.

You finally spoke, trying to shake off the wave of emotion that came unexpectedly. "Thanks, Jeno; I appreciate it," you said softly, smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight in the room felt weirdly comforting, the silence between you two not awkward but rather an understanding of some sort. You opened your mouth to say something else when Jaemin's voice boomed from downstairs.

"Jeno! You up there or what? Come on, let's go already!

Jeno looked towards the door, an arch rising onto his face once more. "Guess that's my cue," he said with a chuckle, and then rose from his seat. He headed for the door but then turned back to you once more. "But seriously, if you need anything, I'm right here, okay? Don't hesitate."

You nodded, weirdly out in some indefinable way. "Won't. Thanks, Jeno."

With one last smile, Jeno slipped out of your room, leaving the door creaked open behind him. You sat there for a while, processing it all. You had always thought of him as a family friend, one who would always be around. Today, you realized how much more he meant to you, not only as Jaemin's best friend but also as someone you could approach.

You sat there a moment longer, letting the weight of the conversation settle. Maybe you didn't have all the answers yet. Maybe life wasn't as simple as it seemed. But one thing was for sure: Jeno wasn't going anywhere, and neither was your brother. You weren't alone in this.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Flirting with Disaster

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader (Brother's bestfriend)

Summary: You're about to go on the first real date you’ve had in years, and the nerves are hitting hard. So, you turn to the one person who might help: Peter Parker, your brother’s best friend.

Word Count: Roughly 1.5k 

Warnings: Fluff, anxiety around dating, mentions of insecurities, unrequited/complicated feelings, cringe-worthy moments

Note: I’m planning on making this a three-part or a four-part. Let’s see. Oh, and I've been away from my usual shenanigans, so I am going to post twice this weekend :)

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Divider by: @strangergraphics

You sat cross-legged on your bed, phone in hand, as if looking at it too long might make it spontaneously combust. The flutter in your stomach definitely wasn’t from hunger. 

No, tonight was the night—a real date. A proper date with an actual guy. 

And the thought of it had you wanting to crawl under your blankets and pretend the world didn’t exist.

Your friends were all in your corner, practically sending you a virtual pep squad of texts: You got this! Go for it, girl! But deep down? You felt more like a deer in headlights. Spiraling towards your impending doom.

You weren’t ready. Mentally? Nope. Emotionally? Not even close. Physically? Definitely not.

Flirting? Kissing? Oh God. It felt like you were about to attempt something far more complicated than rocket science, like you needed a PhD in how to act normally around a guy just to get through the night. And if anything even remotely intimate was on the horizon? Yeah, that sent you straight back to high school, where you could barely look at a guy without tripping over your own feet.

Talking to your brother about this? No way. He’d send you a full PowerPoint presentation on how awkward you were, followed by an Excel spreadsheet of potential embarrassing scenarios. Your mom? She’d tell you how beautiful you were and then proceed to give you every single detail of her first date with your dad, including the color of the sweater she wore and the exact type of pasta they had.

Which left you with one option.

Peter.

Peter freakin’ Parker.

He’d been your brother’s best friend since before you could remember. Still, somewhere along the way, he’d gone from being that cocky, arrogant, too-cool-for-school guy and literal genius whose favorite pass time was annoying you to someone who made your heart do a little flip every time he looked at you. The messy hair. The cocky grin. The snarky vibe that screamed I’m cooler than you, and you were just you. Awkward. Nerdy. And definitely, the girl who’d had an intense crush on him when you were younger, an embarrassing crush at that. But, for the record, you had mostly gotten over.

Mostly.

But now, with the date creeping closer and your nerves flaring up like fireworks in your chest, you were desperate. You needed help.

So you hit dial.

“Hey, little peach.” His voice slid through the phone like melted chocolate, smooth and warm, and the kind that made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t know how to process.

“Hi, Peter,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, trying and failing miserably.

“Long time, no talk. What’s up?” His voice was laced with that familiar mischief, the one that hinted he knew something was off but was enjoying every second of the suspense. “Don’t tell me you burned down your kitchen trying to make some sad excuse for pasta and now you’re too embarrassed to call the fire department? Because, if so, I’ll happily dress up as a fireman and fulfill that fantasy for you.”

You stammered, and he laughed. Loudly.

“You’re hilarious, asshole,” you grumbled.

“I try.” He chuckled. You could practically hear his smirk. “So what’s the emergency? Need bail money? Lemme see, petty theft? Destruction of public property? Actually, scratch that, even you wouldn’t pull something like that, peach.”

Peach. That damn nickname. It hit you like a sucker punch of nostalgia. You remembered summers spent trailing behind him and your brother, trying to act like you were calm and cool while you tripped over your own feet just trying to keep up with them.

You cleared your throat, doing your best to sound like you had it together. “Uh, I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Peter’s tone shifted instantly, a little more serious now. “Everything okay? You’re not in actual trouble, right?”

Panic crept up your spine. Why had you called him? This was so stupid. But here you were, spilling your guts anyway.

“Uh, yes. No. I mean…” You sighed, your voice wavering. “I have a date,” you muttered, hoping he wouldn’t hear the tremble in your voice. “It’s tonight. And I’m freaking out. Like majorly.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, that unmistakable chuckle, the one that made you want to punch him. “Wait. Hold on. You? Freaking out about a date? I didn’t know you had it in you little miss awkward. You?” His voice dragged out the last word like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for the support, asshole,” you muttered. “You’re just gonna mock me, aren’t you? This was a waste of time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, regretting the entire call. You were better off canceling the date and hiding in your apartment with a Netflix binge and a pint of ice cream.

This was just as humiliating.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you mumbled. “Bye-”

“Hey, hey,” Peter interrupted. His tone softened, just a little. “I’m sorry for laughing, okay? But you know I can’t help it.”

You huffed, but something in his voice made you hesitate.

“But seriously, you? Nervous?” His voice was almost affectionate now, though he still sounded like he was having way too much fun with this. “Baby, you’re smart, you’re funny when you try, and last time I checked, you grew up gorgeous. What’s there to be nervous about, hm?”

Your heart did that weird skip thing, and you cursed your traitorous body. Baby.

He didn’t even know what he was doing to you when he said it. He said it like it was nothing—like it didn’t even matter. But it hit you harder than it should’ve. 

"Easy for you to say," you snapped back, but even as you tried to sound annoyed, there was a softness creeping into your voice. “It’s been forever since, you know, I’ve had to, like, flirt or kiss or whatever. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

There was a long pause. Then, Peter’s voice came through, low and laced with mischief. “Wait a second. Are you asking me to teach you how to flirt? I’m honored, peach.”

“What? No!” You nearly dropped the phone in your panic. “I…wait! No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, but now I have to,” Peter said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Come over. I’ll help you practice. Flirting, kissing, whatever you need.”

You gaped at the phone, heat rushing to your face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, peach,” he continued a dangerous lilt in his tone. “You used to trust me with everything. Like that time you tried to ride my skateboard when you were, what, ten? You ate it so bad I thought your brother was gonna faint. But I carried you home, dried your tears, and made you laugh instead of cry. You know I’ve got you.”

You closed your eyes, cringing at the memory. You’d been ten, desperate to prove you weren’t just the annoying little sister of his best friend. You’d failed miserably, but Peter hadn’t laughed at you. Well, at least, not until after he made sure you were fine.

"Oh my god," you muttered, cringing at the thought. "I was a mess back then."

Peter’s voice softened, but that smirk was still there. "You were adorable, though. Adorable," he teased, his voice dripping with something almost affectionate. "Especially with those rainbow bandages on your knees. I swear, I could’ve sold tickets to that disaster."

“Don’t remind me,” you muttered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“So, come on over,” he pressed. “I’ll give you a crash course. I’m talking flirting 101, kissing for dummies, the whole shebang. You can thank me later.”

You bit your lip, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were blushing from memory or how his words made your stomach flip.

You hesitated for a second. This was ridiculous. 

"Peach, you still with me?" His voice broke through your thoughts. "What's your decision?"

But you sighed, giving in. “Alright,” you said before you could stop yourself. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Good girl,” Peter purred into the phone, and you froze. His voice sent a shock through your system that left you breathless. Suddenly, the whole flirting crash course didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

You knew he was messing with you, but it didn’t stop your skin from flushing.

You stared at your phone, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into.

Peter Parker was going to help you with your love life. No big deal, right?

You weren’t that kid anymore. You definitely didn’t have a crush on Peter Parker.

“Don’t give me that look,” you glared at your stuffed animal as it silently judged you with its big brown eyes. “I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

Mostly.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[whumpbby]

Hey, let's talk :D

magicorangelove

#the first part I wholeheartedly agree with and would like to see too - no matter how you love someone it is An Adjustment to start#living with someone#after 30+ years living alone and having this image of a person in your mind#and i don’t actually think lsz lived WITH lwj when he was small#first seclusion and then he was 6-7… anyway#the last part i don’t particularly agree with ‘cause i don’t think THOSE are the parts lwj has no idea about or would find surprising#or eye-opening or whatever#the day-to-day struggles on the other hand?…#also i do think he got better with expressing himself by this time…#then I remember that he failed to tell wwx about ayuan#and go…maybe not…..#then i think how that might have been for wwx’s benefit and change my mind again…..

For me, Lan Zhan at some point will start catching up to the moral hangover, but not because he will be surprised by the less savoury parts of his beloved, but because he will start noticing his own willingness to accept them and that can be a scary thing.

(I don't mean that WWX is a bad person - he's actually a really good guy with his heart in the right place, who tries to do a good thing whenever he can. But he also has a checkered past, made some choices that, while understandable, are morally indefensible, and he has serious issues with emotional intimacy and honesty, and a scary penchant for self-sacrifice.)

Until the realtionship started, Lan Wangji's intention towards his Wei Ying was to be The Saviour.

Like, throughought the whole of Sunshot all he tried to do was to Save Him - from the bad war, from the bad cultivation, from the bad sects... Then, he spent over a decade regetting not Saving Him. And then WWX came back and it was saving him from the bad Jiang Cheng. So, for the last 20 or some years, LWJ lived exclusively in the mode of The Saviour. WWX returning had to be like a blessing to him, he finally could play out his greatest fantasy! He got to save his beloved from more than one villain and after all that, he got to kiss him and take him to bed home! Gasp! He got his happy ending! He got to ride of into the sunset and now...

...now what? What now, once LWJ has to start realising that Wei Ying doesn't need a Saviour anymore, and that outside of that role he doesn't really know what to do? Once he has a chance to process, to familiarise himself with Wei Ying the person, he will have to face some moral quandaries he didn't have to face before. He was raised in a certain way and, as much as he carries anger towards his sect and the rules he was raised in, he was still raised with certain kind of morality that, given his character, I don't see him discarding easily or without a solid reason.

Until now the reason was his role of the Saviour that subsumed everything else. But since he doesn't have to be that anymore, what came he his behind now?

Uncritical love?

I don't think Wei Wuxian is someone who can be loved uncritically - for his own good. As much as everyone would want that for themselves in the imaginary world, lack of boundaries in a relationship harms both sides. WWX is a person that will strain against every lead put on him - and if he can't feel one, he will keep desperately pushing further and further until he feels something holding him back.

That's how he lived his first life - notice, he was always fighting for the attention of the people who were providing him with barriers. He wasn't bothering Lan Xichen in Gusu (arguably evenore handsome than Wangji) - he was exclusively pissing off Wangji and Lan Qiren. He wasn't bothering JFM, trying to discover his boundaries - he was annoying the shit out of JC and almost taunting Madame Yu. Almost, as if he needed people who would try to limit him in some way. To feel safe, maybe? To feel noticed?

He was always noticed and it never seemed enough. What can Lan Zhan do that a whole Jiang sect wasn't enough to do for their super star? Love him? As if he wasn't loved before???

So, like, if Lan Zhan is not a Saviour, that means Wei Ying isn't the damsell - as much as he likes to play up being one. He's not the princess in need of a knight. He's not perfect. Not innocent - I think Wei Wuxian would at some point become desperate for Lan Zhan to know that he's not perfect, ecause for how long can you stand to be placed on a pedestal you feel you don't feel you deserve to stand on?

The whole "between us there's no need for thank yous and sorrys" is such a deep quote - as long as you're 15 and never had a meaningful relationship of any kind. Because thank yous and sorrys are a part of normal human communication, and that communication is needed to maintain any sort of relationship - and here we have two characters obscenly bad at communicating and emotional honesty, and once you take even that simple scaffold away...

Yeah, this won't be smooth sailing for either of them.

I'd really love to read a fic where a year past the canon ends, Lan Zhan starts to realise that his dreamed-up perfect relationship with Wei Ying isn't what he imagined it to be.

That what he got is actually a wholeass person with imperfections that will get annoying after a while, with opinions that he doesn't agree with and behaviours he's not prepared to just accept. A human person that will lie to keep him happy, that will leave when any possibility of strife approaches, that sometimes doesn't want to have sex - or that sex isn't a cure-all for their problems. That whatever Jiang Cheng experienced growing up with Wei Wuxian will fall on Wangji too, because love doesn't change you as a person in 100%, sorry.

Because that's what think will be a hurdle for him - he never was in a relationship. He never even had real human friends. Fuck, he doesn't seem to have acquaintances. All he ever had was a made-up image of a boy he knew shortly in his late teens and a sect where he was the lauded Young Master everyone respected. He can't stoically stand a kid talking back to him without a silencing spell and has difficulty expressing the most basic things in useful words. For all the soulmate talk, he didn't even know the boy he dreamed building a life with - that Wei Wuxian never existed outside of Wangji's limited glimpses of him and a lot of forgiving assumption.

Like, when will it hit him that Wei Ying is actually a complex human being that isn't just for him to care about and love, and that he himself isn't happy with some things? Will he one night wake up in cold sweat when he finally understands that the man sleeping next to him orchestrated a horiffic surgery on himself and his brother, and never indicated that he regrets it and wouldn't do it again? That the man sleeping next to him kinda-sorta just looked on as people were murdered in front of him, and didn't really have any strong opinion about being brought back via human sacrifice?

Like, discarding stiff and stifling Lan rules after being burned by them is one thing, but this is a moral quandary that goes way beyond that.

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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When you arrived back at the manor, it was clear that you needed to get your shit in order.

The situation was crazy to begin with, but this newest revelation was something you just couldn’t wrap your head around. It was one thing to reincarnate into the past, or even in a separate world, given the very high likelihood of multiple galaxies existing. But this was just a game. It wasn’t real. So then, how was this possible?

Obviously, you didn’t have the answer to that question, and you weren’t even sure if you ever would find the answer. But that was really beside the point. It didn’t matter how you ended up here—what mattered was what in the hell you were going to do.

For the time being, you decided to lock yourself in your room and try to rack for your brain for just about everything you could remember. Thankfully, you’d just recently finished the game, so most of the details were still relatively fresh in your mind.

The most pressing issue was obviously that the game you found yourself in was by no means a happy one. It was marketed as a dark fantasy for a reason, because the love interests were dangerous and hardly good people. The yandere genre had become explosively popular over the course of the past decade. It was particularly enjoyable due to the strange thrill it provided people with, the mystery and suspense, but yanderes were far from desirable. The game had both a good and bad ending for each of the love interests, with all of the bad endings being remarkably messed up, and even the “good” endings were plenty concerning in their own right.

Which is why it was quite a bitter irony that the game was called Zodin’s Benevolence, given that there was nothing truly benevolent about the twisted challenges the protagonist was forced to undergo. She repeatedly found herself tangled up in all sorts of sinister plots after being adopted into a baron’s family and acquiring a noble status.

The good news was that you hadn’t been reincarnated as the protagonist, which meant that so long as you kept your distance from the main events of the storyline, there shouldn’t really be any reason for you to get dragged into that mess.

A grimace fell upon your lips. Thinking about it like that, it sounded a bit selfish to intentionally ignore a poor woman’s suffering, but you’d finally been given a chance at a proper life. The last thing you needed was to suffer a gruesome death at the hands of yanderes simply because you’d interfered with their twisted obsessions.

“I will do absolutely nothing,” you stated determinedly. “There’s no way my character even existed in the first place. When I woke up in this world, it sort of created a little slot for me to fit in. In other words, I’m a side character, and my actions should have no effect on the story so long as I don’t get involved.”

Yes, that was the plan. Do nothing. You could do that. You were very good at doing nothing.

The rules of this “game” you found yourself in—both literally and figuratively—were rather simple. Actually, there was only one rule at all, and that was to stay as far away from the protagonist and yanderes as possible. Which, given that you’d accidentally run into Cassius today, meant that you already weren’t off to a very good start. But a simple bump-in shouldn’t be reason enough for him to go after you with a vengeance. Apart from deliberating angering him, the only thing you could of think that would incur his wrath would be to prevent him from interacting with the game’s protagonist.

Speaking of... how far into the game am I at this point?

The game began with the protagonist being adopted by a kind baron after dutifully waiting on him during one of his trips to the countryside. She then proceeded to move into his estate, getting acquainted with her new life, and promptly beginning lessons at the renowned academy in Zodite’s capital city, as per her adoptive father’s wishes to grant her a formal education. This was the catalyst that set the plot in motion, because it was at the academy that the protagonist met the first yandere—none other than Cassius himself.

As far as you could recall, Zodin’s Benevolence began sometime early summer, because the baron encountered the protagonist while in the middle of a leisurely seasonal trip. Given how warm the weather currently was, summer was either peeking right around the corner, or already here. Which meant that there likely wasn’t much time left until the official plot was set in motion.

Although you had no concrete benchmark as to when it would officially begin, one thing was for sure. If you wanted to avoid an early death again, you would need to keep your eyes peeled for the protagonist’s appearance and keep her away from you by any means.

You frowned, nibbling on your bottom lip.

It’s okay. I can be selfish. No, I have to be selfish. It’s the only way.

Dying from illness was one thing, but the things those crazy bastards were capable of... you had a feeling that dying by their hands would be a million times more painful than anything you’d ever endured.

This new life had been placed right in the palms of your hands, and you’d be damned if you were going to let go of it.

“Mom, dad. Do you think it would be alright if I stopped going to the academy?”

After having discovered that you were in a yandere dating sim, that was the question you chose to ask your parents the very next morning.

Naturally, they were completely flabbergasted.

“Is this another one of your jokes? You wanted to go to school so badly up until now. Sorry, we’re just struggling to understand where all this is coming from.”

It had been your hope that in not attending the academy, you could prevent any run-ins with both the protagonist and the yanderes. But truthfully, you did want to go to school, because your sickness had prevented you from actually attending college back in your old world. It sounded like the version of you in this world was interested in pursuing an education as well, so perhaps it was for the best that you went. You couldn’t stand to see your parents’ disappointed expression once more, even in this reality.

From what you recalled seeing in the game, the campus was quite large, so if you were cautious, there was no reason for you to get wrapped up with the yanderes.

That being said...

You still didn’t want to be ill-prepared for what this world had to offer. There was only so much that had been outright stated in the game; you would have to find out the rest for yourself. One of the key points that you wanted to look into was the usage of magic. In this world, magic was mainly used through magical ores, which helped to supply certain buildings with things like electricity, heat, and even reinforcing walls with something akin to a barrier. Some people were blessed with magical abilities themselves, although it was exceedingly rare. The topic of mages had been briefly touched upon in the game, and it seemed as though with every passing generation, fewer and fewer people found themselves capable of such feats. Dwindling bloodlines, or something like that.

It did make you curious, though. Was it at all possible that you might be fortunate enough to be a mage yourself? If so, you could train your abilities to make sure that you would be able to protect yourself from harm in the event that something really did go wrong.

You didn’t really know how to use magic, though. After all, the game didn’t exactly expand on this detail very much.

So, you tried various methods to see if you could channel some hidden power. Reciting cringy incantations, straining your body so hard that it made you feel like you had to rush to the bathroom—you even drew a horribly misshapen pentagram on the floor of your bedroom, with leftover jam from your breakfast, and Lizbell nearly fainted when she saw the mess.

Needless to say, none of it worked, so you decided to just come out and ask.

“Can I use magic?”

For the second time that same morning, your parents gaped at you.

“My dear, what’s the matter?” your father chuckled. “You’ve been going full throttle since yesterday. Your mother and I can hardly keep up.”

“Does that mean I can’t use magic?”

“Of course not, good heavens. You know very well we don’t come from a family of mages.”

Despite their immediate dismissals, you knew that it was possible for people to potentially grow into their magical powers. Magical ability was traditionally passed down by blood, but it could just as easily manifest in an unsuspecting individual. Hopefully, that individual was you.

“I haven’t been able to use magic up until now, but something may have changed recently,” you persisted. “That’s what I meant. I’m wondering if my abilities have awakened by now.”

Fortunately, your parents had always been the patient sort, so they merely shrugged their shoulders. “If you're really still holding out hope for a thing, then you can always go and get tested at the Bureau of Magic.”

You decided to do just that. The Bureau of Magic’s central headquarters was a large, impressive building. You didn’t really know anything about this organization, but you were tickled pink by the thought of being magically gifted on top of having perfect health. You could already imagine it, shooting fireballs from your hands and creating geysers out of nothing.

You were going to be the best mage ever—

“Zero magical affinity,” the man testing you stated. “Although there are cases where people may develop magic over time, by looking at your mana reservoir, I can tell that there is absolutely no chance of you ever becoming a mage.”

Well, that was certainly a short-lived dream.

The man then frowned, peering closer into the strange device he was measuring your aptitude with. “Come to think of it though, this is really strange. Even average citizens have very trace amounts of mana in their system. Mana is present in all living things, whether or not they can actually manifest that mana and convert it into magical energy. I’ve never seen a case like yours before, not in all my years of working here. You’re an anomaly. Almost as if you aren’t meant to be a part of this world...”

Uh-oh. It sounded like he was starting to get suspicious, so you hurried to wave him off. “Your machine must be broken,” you dismissed flippantly. “Anyways, I’ve already lost interest in becoming a mage, so I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“What? Miss, if you could just—”

“Gotta go, bye!”

Since magic was clearly a no-go, you figured you should at least have another plan to fall back onto. You were weak and sickly back in your previous life, but you had a perfectly healthy body in this one. There was no reason you couldn’t pick up a weapon and learn how to protect yourself. For instance, sword-fighting!

“You want to do what?” your parents blanched. It was the third time today that they were confused beyond belief, though they looked particularly horrified in this instance.

“Sword-fighting,” you repeated calmly. “I just think it’d be neat.”

“Oh, [Name], but why that of all things? Those blades are seriously dangerous, you know. You could hurt yourself!”

“Well, not if I’m good at it.”

“Someone in your position will never have to worry about their safety,” they insisted. “We can hire more guards to keep watch outside the manor if it’ll help you feel better. Come on now, what use have you for a weapon like that?”

“It’s not that I’m worried about my safety.” That’s a lie. “I just want to challenge myself and see if I can do this. Plus, I think it’d be pretty amazing if I could pull something like this off. I’d be bragging about it constantly.” Okay, that part isn’t entirely a lie.

Their reluctance was plain as day, but as expected—they just couldn’t seem to say no to you.

“Very well,” your father sighed. “But we’ll at least be hiring an instructor to ensure that you have someone watching over you and making sure you’re safe while you train. Please allow us at least this much.”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” you beamed. “I’ll learn faster with a teacher, anyways.”

So far, things were looking good. You had your plan to stay out of everyone’s way and make sure you didn’t become a target, and in the event that it all failed, you would at least have some way of fighting for your life.

“Oh, and uh, the sooner the better,” you said. “I’d like to start learning as early as possible, since I’m just so excited! Okay? Okay!”

You proceeded to skip out the room before they could mutter a protest.

It was actually incredible how much your parents loved you. They were parents from a different reality, but your parents nonetheless. In spite of their visible concerns to allow you to wield a sword, they’d managed to secure you a personal instructor in less than twenty-four hours.

Currently, you were out in the courtyard, eagerly awaiting your guest. You were dressed in a loose tunic and comfortable pants that were perfecting for working up a sweat in. It was a shame you couldn’t wear clothes like these more often, though you had to admit that your collection of dresses was rather delightful.

It was hot out. Definitely summer, you were sure of it now. It was a good thing you were starting your sword-fighting lessons so early on. Even if you never ending up needing your soon-to-be lethal skills, you would definitely feel more at ease knowing that you had them.

Your personal instructor was apparently a knight, so you were already inclined to trust that he had hands-on experience. You wondered what he’d look like. Knights in fantasy settings like this one were always so damn attractive. Hopefully he wasn’t much older than you...

Ah, focus, goddammit! What does it matter what he looks like? The most important thing is staying alive.

You lightly slapped yourself upside the head. Right. No distractions. You were no longer the same weak person from your miserable previous life. You were a living miracle, and a future sword-wielding badass.

Hardly a minute later, your tortuous wait seemed to have come to an end, and you were able to get a good look at your new instructor.

Wait, is that...

“Good day, Lady [Name],” the knight greeted, bowing his head courteously. “My name is Sergei Garin, member of the Cavalry Brigade. I am humbled to be in your service.”

You couldn’t quite seem to hide the shock on your face. Sergei Garin. You knew this character. Fortunately, he wasn’t one of the yanderes—otherwise, you would’ve probably feigned a heart attack to get out of this situation. No, he was nothing but a supporting character, although a character that you admittedly had a soft spot for.

Why did you have a soft spot for him? Well...

Probably because he was fated to die.

More chapters are available on Quotev!

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[xmads-omensx]

Word Count: 1,639

Pairing: Best friend! Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: swearing, arguments, Noah is bad at feelings and so is Y/N

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp

Thanks @alwaysfightforwhoyouare for the idea, and sorry it took me so long to actually write since we were talking about this before New Years lmao.

Extra inspo:

NOAH POV

She was beautiful.

I found myself stealing glances at her whenever I could. It was impossible not to. Even when I didn’t intend to, my eyes always found her.

No matter what room I walked into, I always sought her out.

Her laugher. Her smile. Her eyes. Her.

Y/N had been my best friend, besides Nicholas of course, for as long as I could remember. Granted, we only met when we had moved to California, but we clicked instantly.

Two peas in a pod. Partners in crime. Ride or die.

That was us.

But I was desperate for more.

I wanted to hold her hand. Hold her. Kiss her. Tell I loved her. Take her to bed. Be with her.

But it could never happen. She had a boyfriend and I was just her best friend. She would never see me as anything more than that.

I buried those feelings as deep as I possibly could. I dated and saw other people as often as I could to try and move on, but nothing worked. No matter who I went out with, my mind was always stuck on Y/N.

Every time I saw her with Chris, my heart broke a little bit more. I knew this was unfair, since she had no idea how I felt about her and it wasn’t her fault she was happy with someone else, but part of me resented her for being happy with someone else.

What could he give her that I couldn’t?

I knew every single detail about her. I could even tell you how many freckles decorated her face if you asked me to.

But it wasn’t enough.

She had him, and I had Bad Omens.

“Y/N and Chris are fighting again.” Matt sighed, taking his seat in the studio.

They had been fighting a lot recently. He had been going out more often with his friends, leaving Y/N at home. She hated being alone.

“Same thing again?” Jolly asked.

“Yep.” Matt sighed again.

Silence encased the studio. None of us particularly liked Chris, some for more selfish reasons than others, but none of us wanted to stop Y/N from being happy.

“I’ve got some lyrics that I’ve been working on.” I spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Can we have a look?” Jolly asked, so I handed him my highly precious notebook that I used for songwriting.

His eyes darted over the pages. if he knew what the song was about, he didn’t let on anything.

“This is good shit, Noah.” He said, smiling genuinely.

I had been working on the song for a while now, but I never had the courage to show anyone else the song yet.

It was by far my favourite song that I had ever written.

“Do you think it would be okay for the new record?” I asked, chewing the skin on my thumb anxiously.

“I think it’s perfect for the new record dude.” Jolly said, grinning widely.

“Great.” I said with a sigh of relief.

We spent most of the day recording the new song, working in silence for the most part as we seemed to be working in unison, as one.

The lyrics flew out of me so easily, it was like breathing.

Verse after verse, the melody came naturally.

It didn’t matter if anyone knew what the song was about, as long as she got to hear it.

Y/N POV

Chris and I never had a great relationship.

It wasn’t toxic or anything, we just didn’t love eachother, but were determined to make it work.

The honeymoon phase was relatively short, only lasting the first two months of our relationship.

Out fights consisted of the same common denominators every single time. His partying and my friendship with Noah.

Chris hated Noah with a burning passion. In fact, Chris was convinced that Noah was in love with me, which would be impossible because how could someone like Noah be in love with someone like me?

Noah was a genuine, kind soul, and I was often labelled a vindictive bitch.

He would have to be desperate for human connection if he fell in love with me.

“Seriously, I don’t understand why you’re friends with him, Y/N, he clearly just wants to get in your pants.” Chris sighed, exasperated at my apparent obliviousness to Noah’s alleged feelings for me.

“Because he’s my best friend, and no, he doesn’t want to get in my pants. I think I’d know if he did.” I replied, sick of this argument going round in circles.

“Y/N, please listen to me. He isn’t your friend. He just wants to use you to get off. He likes the power he has over you.” Chris argued back, raising his voice.

“Stop lying about it, I’m not going to believe you.” I yelled. “This is so fucking dumb, Chris, all we ever do is go around in circles until we either get bored of the argument and go cool off somewhere or we just end up fucking!”

“Who’s fault is it that we keep running in circles like this?” Chris snarled. “You’re the one who is still hanging around that jackass.”

“Oh my god! When will you realise that Noah is not the problem here, you are!” I yelled.

“Then how about I leave and make your life easier?” Chris shouted.

“Good! Get the fuck out of my house!” I yelled in reply, gesturing towards the door.

He simply turned around and left. Just like that.

The silence that filled the house wasn’t unpleasant like I thought it would be, but instead it was peaceful and I welcomed it with open arms.

Finally, I had enough space to think. To breathe. To exist without him screaming down my ear about Noah, and without me interrogating him about him going out with his friends into the very early hours of the morning.

But after a few hours of this new silence, the house became almost too silent. Too cold. Too big.

I needed the space to be smaller again.

With my mind in autopilot, I found myself climbing into the drivers side of my car and driving over to Noah’s house, desperate for comfort and some semblance of crowdedness.

Noah’s front door opened before you had even rung the bell.

“Hey, you okay? Matt had us worried about you.” Noah gushed, pulling me into a hug.

“Yeah just wanted to hang out for a bit. It’s too quiet at my place.” I explained with a shrug.

“Is Chris out again?”  Noah asked as we walked into his house.

“Oh, we broke up like two hours ago.” I said with a laugh, but I couldn’t tell if it was a fake laugh or not.

“Shit are you okay?” Noah asked, placing his hands on my shoulders.

“Yeah. I mean I think so.” I said with a shrug.

“Y/N, you’re crying.” Noah whispered, his voice significantly more gentle than it had been previously as he cupped my cheek and wiped a stray tear away from my face.

“No, really I’m okay.” I said, unsure as to why I was crying.

“Come here.” Noah whispered, pulling me into a tight hug.

I wasn’t sure what it was about hugging Noah made me feel so emotional, but I couldn’t control the damn that burst, letting all of my pent up frustrations at Chris gush out.

The more I cried, the clearer the real reason for my tears became. I was in love with Noah.

NOAH POV

I gently rubbed Y/N’s back as I held her close to my chest, hoping to ease her pain as much as I could.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.” I whispered, guiding her into the studio before sitting her down on the small sofa we had in there for moments like these.

She curled up in her usual spot with her knees pulled up to her chest.

I switched on the computer monitor and selected the audio file that I wanted.

Besides the purple LED lights, that were Y/N’s favourite, the monitor was the only thing that illuminated the otherwise empty room.

The soft melody of the acoustic demo that we had recorded earlier that morning filled the air as I sat next to Y/N on the sofa and pulling her into my arms. She instantly snuggled closer into my chest as if she were hiding from something and was seeking comfort.

She was my safe space and I was hers.

The lyrics began to take over the melody as I rocked Y/N back and forth in my arms.

There are scars that never ever show themselves

You get when you’re left alone too long in Hell

I was sick and tired of leaving Y/N to live her life without me by her side. I was desperate to be able to call her mine. To hold her hand as we walked to our favourite coffee shop. To kiss her cheek and tell her she looked beautiful as she got ready to go out. To be able to hold her as we drifted off to sleep in our bed.

I was desperate for HER.

I began to sing the lyrics to her, causing her to look up into my eyes as I looked down into hers.

Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall You'll have a friend down in Hell after all

“Noah.” She murmured.

“Yes, Y/N.” I whispered in reply.

“I love you.” She whispered.

I answered her by leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Just enough to tell her exactly how I felt.

“Yours?” She asked after we pulled away.

“Mine.” I replied with a smile.

“Forever?”

“Yes, Y/N, mine forever.”

And if you're there to catch me when I fall Then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all

[radiantmists]

Something I was thinking about while writing my chorb fic for Charles Week is that I don't think there's actually any canonical suggestion that orb form is something ghosts fall into naturally. If I remember correctly, the only time we see the orbs is when Esther captures the boys, and she specifically mentions that she was keeping Charles trapped that way, which suggests that it's something she did to them to keep them docile.

However, I do love orb content. I ran with the fanon interpretation in the fic because it's fun, but while I was writing it, another thought occurred to me: what if Edwin, in a last-ditch attempt to keep Charles safe from some threat (or prevent him from dissipating due to a grievous injury), turns him into an orb?

Presumably he'd run across the spell in some evil wizard's tome, recorded as a way to conveniently store ghosts for later use (since apparently they're a nice magical snack). He probably only memorized it so that he could recognize if someone was trying to cast it on them in the future. But now he's got Charles' soul trapped in his hands, neatly packaged up for someone to steal or consume.

He's probably still stuck in a desperate situation. Maybe in this state he can't even feel Charles, just a well of magical energy that would be so easy to tap into. And of course Edwin is never tempted for a moment to do that, but now he has to carry Charles safely out of there and figure out how to turn him back. Maybe the book he saw the spell in is in Charles' backpack and therefore inaccessible, or maybe it didn't include a method for undoing the spell at all, leaving Edwin to choose between two terrible options: experimenting on the orb, or looking for someone familiar with that spell-- ie, a magician who collects ghosts-- to teach him how to undo it.

I don't really know where this goes from here but the idea has so much potential to put Edwin through the emotional wringer, it's fun.

[hehearse]

10 characters / 10 fandoms / 10 tags (debatable) thank youu @origami10 <3

1. omniscient reader's viewpoint - yoo sangah <3 (sorry main set of three but you'd be too obvious) 2. s classes that i raised - han yoohyun. the boy who did nothing wrong is his life ever and who i fully support <3 3. ajin - nagai kei. my favorite awful child <3 the normalest guy. 4. fire emblem: three houses - edelgard von hreswelg. the most girl ever. love her. 5. the disastrous life of saiki k. - the guy himself. saiki kusuo <3 he is constantly annoyed and so chatty all the time. a disaster for fansubbers all over the world 6. dragon age: origins - zevran arainai, my favorite shameless elf (sorry alistair i swear i love you both equally) 7. dragon age: inquisition - dorian pavus. the silliest guy. puts him into snow. 8. deponia - rufus. the worst guy ever. and YET 9. puella magi madoka magica - akemi homura. my sweetest child. the weirdest witch a kyubey can wish for <3 10. the witcher - yennefer of vengerberg. a secret sugar mommy for a certain witcher. the not-so-secret mother of another witcher. my dearest.

if you wanna, just grab it cause i have no idea who to tag, but i am personally targeting @leejihye <3

[featherymainffins]

I hate to say it but I might have to admit that Redditors can be pretty based sometimes

[rocketbirdie]

Laid to rest by ten thousand arrows — the fall of Lao-Shan Lung

HE'S FINALLY DEAD.

This oversized infant has been tormenting me ever since his fateful introduction as the Wall Of All Time in rank G2. It's difficult enough to just scare him off, but for months now, I've had my sights set on outright slaying him.

I tried everything. Aerial style great sword to the face for 30 minutes straight. Max dragon attack striker lance dash spam into his gut. Hell, I even tried the infamous weaponless strategy, frantically hauling cannonballs back and forth, calculating every single ballista shot, carefully counting flinches. But alas, Lao-Shan Lung was simply too powerful for one scrawny little hunter. I was faced with the horrible realization, that if I wanted to take him down alone... I was going to have to play a ranged weapon. (GASP!)

Anyway yeah those guides ain't joking lol dragon pierce bow is ridiculously overpowered against this guy. It took me 2 tries because I've literally never used a bow before, but once I got the hang of it, it was a super easy hunt. Here's the set that netted me a 20 minute Lao kill with both fortresses at 100%:

Magnastar Wil (Max upgraded Valstrax bow), Valor style

Neset Armor (Ahtal-Ka), full set

The luckiest fucking talisman of my entire life, Expert +9 and Crit Element +4, no slots

Armor skills: TrueShot, Pierce Up, Crit Element, Critical Eye 3, Tremor Res

Items: Power Coating Lv.2, Element Coatings Lv.1 and Lv.2, and an unholy amount of mega dash juice

A LOT of patience to obtain all of the materials for the armor and weapon. Phew!

Altheos Incanonis (the max Alatreon bow) is technically better, but there is no way in hell I was going to grind G RANK ALATREON solo, fuck that. I got stupid lucky with the Valstrax grind and got 2 mantles and an orb on a single hunt, so I just ran with it; Magnastar is more than capable of getting the job done, even in the hands of a clueless melee main.

THE DREAM IS REAL!!!! WOOOOOO

[zoennes]

30 NOVEMBER, 2019 • ZATERDAG, 09:41