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foreverisntenough · 3 months ago

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‘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, slight mention of 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!

Chapter 2 - Bruises | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.6k

Trent slumped down next to Noah, running a hand over his hair, his thoughts all over the place. It had been hard enough leaving you upstairs, seeing you so vulnerable, so close. Noah nudged him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Mate, seriously—what is the deal with you two?” Noah asked, raising an eyebrow. “She’s putty in your hands, and you’re practically breathing down her neck. Thought you’d snap eventually but you just keep dragging it out.” Trent let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the couch.

“I don’t even know, mate. I can’t keep this up. Every time I’m around her lately, it feels impossible to just… be her friend.” He shook his head. “But Jack would kill me, you know that.” Noah burst into laughter, shaking his head.

“Trenty, it’s been years of this. You’re acting like this tension is new! This is, hands down, the longest and most intense case of foreplay I’ve ever seen. Even Jack’s gotta know by now.” Noah smirked. Trent rubbed the back of his neck, a guilty grin breaking through.

“Yeah, but it’s different now. She’s… she’s not just Jack’s sister anymore. It’s like she’s looking at me the same way I look at her.” He groaned and then he let out a shaky breath, feeling exposed for the first time. “And tonight—I feel like she’s slipping, no? Just hard to leave her room after all that. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Noah leaned in, eyes glinting with amusement. “Mateeee.” Trent groaned once more for good measure.

“Bro, you gotta sort this. You can’t go on like this forever.” He clapped Trent on the shoulder. Trent chuckled, a little embarrassed but unable to deny how much he wanted you.

“I know. But I’m just trying to play it smart, you know? I don’t want to hurt her but Jack’s my boy.” Noah raised an eyebrow, laughing harder.

“Play it smart? Just try not to trip over yourself sneaking back upstairs.” He teased. With one last laugh, Trent let himself sink into his thoughts of you, wondering how much longer he could hold himself back.

Another night of drinking to forget came. You knew it wasn’t the healthiest method, but it was maybe the most fun. The club was packed, pulsing with the beat of the music and the energy of people letting loose on a Saturday night. You had dragged Layla along with you to have a fun night out, a chance to unwind and forget about all the stress from the past week. You were in good spirits, laughing and dancing with Layla, letting the music take over. But everything shifted when you spotted him—your sort of ex, a footballer for Manchester United, Josh. If playing for that club wasn’t enough of a reason for you to hate him, he also was just an awful person. He was standing by the bar, surrounded by his friends, looking as arrogant as ever. You tried to ignore him, but it was clear he had seen you too. A smirk tugged at his lips as he pushed through the crowd, heading straight for you.

“YN!” he called out over the music, a mocking tone in his voice. “Long time no see.” You forced a polite smile, not wanting to cause a scene but you knew this was being done to be rude.

“Hey,” you replied shortly, hoping he’d get the hint and move on. But he didn’t.

“What’s the matter? Not happy to see me?” he jeered, leaning in closer than necessary. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, could see the malice in his eyes.

“I’m just here to have a good time with Layla,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. “I’d rather not—” But he cut you off, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You were always such a good girl, Y/N. Too good for the likes of me, right? Or maybe you’re just playing hard to get?” He sang in an obnoxious tone. You’d ‘split’ because you didn’t like each other enough. It was sex and that was about it. Josh particularly didn’t like that no matter what, you’d never look at him the way you looked at Trent and so he blamed the split on you. Despite him ending it, it was your wrong doing apparently.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, yeah? Fuck off.” Layla stepped in, sensing the tension. He sneered at Layla before turning his attention back to you.

“What’s the matter, YN? Still pining after Alexander-Arnold? Aye just get it through that pretty little head, he’s never going to want you.” The words stung, sharper than you expected. You rolled your eyes and he didn’t take kindly to that. Even though you didn’t care for him anymore, his cruelness cut deep. Tears welled up in your eyes despite yourself. Josh had never been the kind to hold back, not even in public. You had seen glimpses of his temper before, but tonight, it felt different—meaner, more deliberate. His words were mocking as his fingers gripped your arm with a force that made your skin sting, and as he leaned in closer, his words grew more venomous. "What, are you going to cry now?" he spat, tightening his hold on you. His grip was firm, biting into your flesh with enough pressure to bruise. You winced, trying to twist free, but he only tightened his grip, his nails digging into your skin. He was holding you close to him, he was angry in a possessive way. You could feel the bruise forming under his touch, a dark mark that would remind you of this night long after it was over. You hated how he could make you feel so small, how he could strip away every ounce of confidence with just a few words and a harsh grip.

“Please just stop,” you snapped, your voice breaking. You tried to yank your arm away again, but he only pulled you closer, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He pulled you away from everyone so it was just the two of you. You felt a wave of shame, not just for the scene he was causing but for yourself—for letting him do this to you, for putting up with it, for not having the strength to push him away once and for all. Layla didn’t know what to do. So often you had said it was fine with him but right now it felt anything but. You didn’t know why you even put up with him, why you had let him into your life at all. He had always been like this—aggressive, dominating, possessive,always needing to control every situation, even when you were out in public. It was as if he thrived on belittling you, on reminding you of every perceived flaw, every mistake you’d made. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“You’ll be nothing without me, know that?” he hissed, his grip tightening painfully. You flinched, the pain radiating up your arm. “You’ll always be nothing.” The tears blurred your vision, and you hated yourself for letting him see you cry. You hated how he still had this power over you, how he could reduce you to this—a sobbing, broken mess in the middle of a crowded club. You hated how he could strip you of your dignity with just a few cruel words and a tight grip on your arm. Somewhere in the haze of your thoughts, you found the strength to pull away. You jerked your arm back with a sudden burst of energy, managing to break free from his grasp. You stumbled back, cradling your bruised arm against your chest, the sting of the fresh bruise radiating through your skin. You looked up at him, your vision blurry with tears, your chest heaving with a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration.

“I’m done. We’re done” you choked out, the words barely more than a whisper. “I get it. Just let it go, okay?” You whimpered. He just laughed, a dark, hollow sound that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’ll be back, babe” he called after you as you tried to leave, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You always come back.” You hated that you had gone back to him before, that you had let yourself get tangled up in his web of anger and possessiveness. The sex had been good—at least, that's what you told yourself. But he had cheated on you more times than you could count, though you were never really sure if it counted as cheating. Your relationship had always been undefined, a messy entanglement of emotions and misunderstandings. He was hypocritical, a storm ready to explode any time he saw you so much as smile at another man. And yet, there you were, always caught in the crossfire of his jealousy and rage. It didn’t matter what he did, his whole goal was to just have complete control over you and Trent threw a wrench in that. He especially hated Trent. It wasn't just because they played for rival clubs, though that was part of it. It was deeper than football. He saw the way your eyes lingered on Trent, the way your face softened when you spoke his name. He knew there was something there, a connection that went beyond friendly banter or casual attraction. Trent was everything he was not—calm, kind, successful in a way that made others admire rather than fear him. And you—God, he could see it—your feelings for Trent were written all over your face, in the way you laughed at his jokes, in the way you always seemed to find yourself at his side. He resented Trent for being everything he wasn’t and for being the object of your affections. You ootd to keep Josh’s behavior hidden from your brother, somehow managing to mask how fucked up it all was. Jack didn't know how deep your ex’s temper ran or how controlling he could be. But if he knew.. If Jack knew or even his friends knew but probably especially Trent knew… all hell would break loose. So you’d learned how to swallow back the stories, pretending that everything was fine.

“Can you just leave me alone,” you managed to say, your voice breaking.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” He leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. “Does your brother know you slut yourself out for his best friend? What’s your dad think of that... Being a whore for the boys your brother trusts most… and your mum.. Oh well.. You wouldn’t know what she thinks of her slutty little daughter.” That was the last straw. You hated that you even trusted him enough that he had that bit of information about your life. You felt the tears spill over, and you turned and bolted, pushing your way through the crowd. You needed to get away, to breathe, to clear your head. Your heart was pounding, and your vision blurred with tears. You stumbled trying to get to the back hallway of the club, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Layla had seen enough.

“Fuck you!” Layla screamed rushing over but when she turned to try to follow after you, you were lost in the crowds. Unbeknownst to you, Trent had been at the club too, celebrating with a few of his teammates. He had seen you running, and had noticed the distress on your face. Without a second thought, he followed you, his concern outweighing any questions about why you were there or what had happened. The flashing lights of the club blurred around you, a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to spin faster with each passing second. The pounding bass reverberated through your chest, matching the erratic beat of your heart. You felt dizzy, your thoughts swirling like the flickering neon signs above. The laughter and shouts of the crowd melted into a distant, muddled hum as your vision began to swim. Tears streaked your cheeks, hot and unchecked, as you stumbled through the throngs of people. The room felt like it was closing in on you, walls shrinking as the faces around you became distorted, like a nightmare you couldn’t escape. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, each one catching in your throat as you fought the rising tide of panic.

You could barely think straight, your mind a haze of confusion and pain. Everything felt wrong—your body, the people around you, the pounding music that seemed to pulse through your veins. You wanted to escape, to find a place where you could breathe again, but everywhere you turned, there were people, faces, eyes. It was too much, all of it pressing down on you, squeezing your chest until you thought you might break. Your legs felt heavy, your steps unsteady as if the ground were shifting beneath your feet. You pushed through the crowd, desperate for air, for space, for anything but this suffocating chaos. Your tears blurred your vision, and you wiped at her eyes, her hand trembling. Then, through the haze, you felt it—strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. At first, you panicked, thinking it was someone else, another stranger trying to touch you, but then you caught a familiar scent, a mix of cologne and something uniquely comforting.

Trent.

Your body sagged with relief, your knees nearly buckling beneath you as you collapsed against his chest. His arms were solid and warm, encircling you like a protective barrier against the chaos of the club. You felt his hand on the back of your head, gently cradling you as he whispered soothing words you could barely hear over the music. Then for the first time, Trent saw a bruise forming on your arm. His face was a mask of concern, his eyes darkening with anger as he took in the sight of you, your arm marked with the telltale signs of aggression.

"Y/N," he whispered, stepping back before reaching out to gently lift your arm, his touch featherlight but steady. He turned it over, revealing the bruises that had already started to bloom in shades of purple and blue. His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened just enough for you to feel his rage simmering beneath the surface. "Who did this to you?" You tried to pull away, tried to hide the evidence of your shame and pain, but Trent wouldn't let go. It was so obvious it came from someone grubbing you too tight, being too rough in a way no one wanted. His hand held yours firmly, his thumb brushing against your skin as if he could erase the marks with a touch.

"Please," you muttered, your voice breaking, "stop." you weakly begged.

"Y/N…" he insisted, his voice low and steady, but with an edge that made it clear he wasn't going to let this go. "Who…" He snapped demandingly. Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Trent's face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took in you attempting to tell him what just happened but he couldn’t focus on anything but how sad you looked, how broken. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms as if to shield you from the world, from the pain, from everything that had ever hurt you. In that moment, you felt safe for the first time in what seemed like forever. His arms were your refuge, his strength your solace. Trent's blood boiled with a fury he rarely felt, his hands shaking with the need to do something—anything—to make Josh, who he knew it had to have been, pay for what he'd done. But then he saw your tear-streaked face, your lips trembling as you tried to hold back sobs, and all that rage took a back seat. His anger didn't matter right now; you mattered. Your body shuddered with each sob, and Trent felt a pang of helplessness in his chest. He wanted to tell you everything would be alright, that he'd take care of everything. He wanted to promise that no one would ever hurt you again. But he knew that words wouldn’t be enough, not now. So, he just held you tighter, letting you cry into his shirt, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey, you're okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the noise, anchoring you to the present. You buried your face against his chest, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping you from drowning. The tears kept coming, but they were different now—less frantic, more a release of all the tension you had been holding onto. Trent’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of the abyss you had been teetering on. The world around you seemed to fade, the thumping bass and flashing lights dimming in comparison to the steady, comforting rhythm of Trent’s heartbeat against your ear. You could feel his warmth seeping into you, calming the storm that raged inside you. In his arms, you felt a safety you hadn’t known she needed—a reassurance that, despite everything, you weren’t alone.

“Just breathe for me,” Trent whispered, his voice soft and close to your ear. “I’m here. You’re safe.” You tried to do as he said, taking a shaky breath that caught in your throat. But with him holding you, the air seemed easier to draw in, the panic slowly ebbing away. The tears continued to fall, but now they were softer, quieter, as if his presence was slowly soothing the hurt you felt. For a moment, there was only you—no noise, no crowd, no chaos. Just the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his embrace. Trent held you tightly, his grip firm yet gentle, his touch grounding you in a way that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. You stood in there struggling to catch your breath as Trent's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of spilled drinks and cigarette smoke, grounding you in a way that felt comforting and electric all at once. He tightened his hold, his chin resting on the top of your head, and his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back. But even as he tried to comfort you, a battle still raged inside him. Part of him wanted to go find Josh right then and there, to make him pay for every single bruise on your skin, every tear he'd caused. The other part of him—the rational part—knew he needed to stay with you, to keep you safe and calm. And then there was the question he couldn't push away: Should he tell Jack? Jack was his best friend, but Jack was also your brother. He deserved to know that his sister had been hurt, but Trent also knew how fiercely protective Jack was of you. If he told Jack, there’d be no holding him back, and things could spiral out of control. Plus, he wasn't sure if you'd want Jack to know—if you'd want your brother to see you in this vulnerable state.

"I got you," he whispered as his thoughts spiraled, his voice filled with a tenderness you hadn't felt in a long time. "I got you, okay?" You felt something break in that moment-a wall you'd kept up around yourself for so long. And when his lips brushed the top of your head in a soft kiss, something stirred inside you, a longing that had been quietly simmering for years. It felt like an opening. Your heart raced as you pulled back slightly, your gaze finding his, and in the dim light, his eyes softened, a silent understanding passing between you. You hesitated, but then, almost instinctively, you tilted up, pressing your lips to his. It was a tentative kiss at first, a question in every touch of your lips against his. Trent tensed, caught off guard, but he didn't pull away. He wanted this so instead, his hands found your waist, his fingers digging in ever so slightly as he kissed you back, the warmth of his mouth melting away the hurt that had clung to you since your ex's cruel words. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together, like a fuse that had finally been lit. The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, years of unspoken attraction finally bubbling over. His hands roamed, his grip on you tightening as he leaned into you, pushing you up against the cool brick wall behind you. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, felt like it was meant to be, like you'd waited your whole life for this moment. God, he wanted this… but not like this. This was wrong. So then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back, his breathing heavy as he looked at you with wide eyes, his expression torn between disbelief and something deeper.

"What...Y/N… what are we doing?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his fingers still lingering on your skin. The conflict in his eyes was clear, and it sent a pang through your chest. But you didn't care about the doubts racing through his mind. You leaned in again, refusing to let go of this feeling. To remind him how very right this wrong was. The kiss was softer this time, gentler, but just as consuming. You poured everything into it—all the years of longing, the quiet, unspoken feelings, the ache you'd felt every time you saw him with someone else. And for a moment, he gave in, his lips moving against yours like he'd been holding back for years. You could feel him wanting more but then, with a deep sigh, he pulled away once more, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady his breathing. "Y/ N... we can't. I can't," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry. I just..." He muttered. The rejection cut deeper than you expected, the pain raw and immediate. Your eyes burned with fresh tears as you took a shaLay step back, your heart pounding with a mix of heartbreak and anger.

"Fuck you!" you cried, your voice trembling. It felt like the walls you'd let down were crashing back up, each one harder than before. You turned on your heel, ready to escape before he saw you fall apart completely. But he reached out, his hand grazing your arm, as if he couldn't quite let you go. You recoiled, stepping back, your expression a mix of pain and anger.

"Wait," he pleaded softly, but you yanked your arm from his grasp, your heart shattering as you disappeared into the crowd, leaving him behind with the lingering taste of regret on his lips. Trent’s heart ached seeing the tears well up in your eyes again. You turned and ran, pushing your way back through the crowd, your vision blurred with tears. You didn’t care where you were going; you just needed to get away from him, from the humiliation and the heartbreak. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you fled, but you didn’t look back. Trent watched you go, his heart sinking into his stomach. He wanted to run after you, to explain, to somehow make it right, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. He knew you needed space, needed time to cool off. But as he stood there, the guilt and worry gnawed at him. He had never wanted to hurt you, but in trying to protect you, he feared he had done exactly that. The sounds of the club grew louder around him, but Trent felt miles away, lost in his thoughts. He knew he’d have to find a way to make this right with you, to explain himself, and to make sure you knew how much he cared. But for now, all he could do was watch you disappear into the crowd, your absence leaving a painful ache in his chest. Trent leaned back against the wall, trying to process what had just happened. Some of his teammates who he was out with came over. They were giving him confused looks, clearly curious about the scene they had just witnessed. From their perspective, he had chased after to a a teary-eyed girl, who then kissed him like her life depended on it, and then, just as quickly, pulled away with a broken ‘fuck you.’ They had questions.

“Mate, what was that about?” one of them asked, laughing awkwardly, unsure how to react to the tension still lingering in the air.

“Bro, was that…” Another piled on cautiously, recognizing you. Trent ran his hands over his face, trying to shake off the flood of emotions. He glanced toward the crowd, desperately scanning for you, but you’d disappeared into the sea of people. His chest tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of what just happened settle in. He couldn’t explain it, not to them, not in a way that made any sense.

“Yeah, was Jack’s sister.” He muttered after he took a deep breath, eyes still flicking toward the direction you’d gone. The second those words left his mouth, Trent knew something had shifted inside him. It wasn’t a lie, not really, but it felt bigger than that. It felt like a realization he’d been avoiding for too long. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. You were his everything. And the truth of that hit him like a freight train, leaving him standing there, breathless and rattled.

“Fuck, mate. That’s complicated.” One of his teammates whistled, finally connecting the dots.

“Yeah,” Trent breathed out, his mind racing. It was beyond complicated. Jack was his best friend, and you… you were the girl who had been slowly slipping from childhood crush to something deeper, something dangerous. He shook his head, his thoughts swirling. The way you’d kissed him tonight, the hurt in your eyes, the fire in the way you’d pulled away—it was like everything had boiled over, and Trent had been too slow to catch up. He’d rejected you, not because he didn’t want you, but because he wanted you too much. He couldn’t handle the idea of hurting Jack, of crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. But now, standing there with his teammates still glancing at him for answers, he realized that line had already been blurred for a while. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. You hadn’t been for a long time. And now, Trent wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending otherwise. As the music pulsed around him, Trent felt a shift. He needed to find you, needed to figure out what came next, no matter how messy it got. Because, after tonight, he knew he couldn’t go back to seeing you as just Jack’s little sister. You were more than that. You always had been.

After leaving Trent behind, you had stumbled back into the chaos of the dance floor, your heart pounding and your emotions a tangled mess. You had felt rejected and humiliated, and in a haze of frustration and alcohol, you made a poor decision. You spotted a man at the bar—a tall, handsome stranger who had been eyeing you all night. Without much thought, you walked up to him and struck up a conversation. His flirty smile and eager compliments were a welcome distraction from the pain you felt. When he suggested you leave together far sooner than appropriate, you didn’t hesitate. You just wanted to forget, to numb the ache in your chest caused by Trent's rejection. You told Layla you felt sick and had needed to leave. She knew it was a farce but she also knew she couldn't stop you. She assumed it was just Josh being an ass she had no idea you had just kissed Trent. She called and called to find you; to leave with you but you just texted saying it was all fine. But as the night unfolded and you found yourself in the stranger's bed, you quickly realized how hollow it all felt. The sex was awkward and unfulfilling, a stark contrast to the passion you had imagined when you thought of Trent. You found yourself comparing the man to Trent in every way—his touch, his movements, the way he spoke to you. Every comparison only made you miss Trent more. You knew deep down that Trent would have been different—gentler or maybe rougher but definitely more attentive, more real. Tears stung your eyes as you lay there, regretting your impulsive decision. This was a low. By the time morning came, you left the stranger's place without a word, feeling emptier than before. You hadn’t heard from Trent since that night. Part of you was relieved, thinking it was better this way—less complicated. But another part of you ached for him, for his presence, for the safety you felt in his arms.

You’d stumbled in through your front door just after dawn, your steps heavy and uneven, your head pounding with every movement. Jack was already up, a coffee mug in hand, leaning against the kitchen counter with a lazy grin.

“Rough night?” he joked, his eyes barely glancing up from his phone. “You look like you’ve been through hell.” You tried to muster a response, but all that came out was a soft hum, barely audible over the sound of the coffee machine. Your shoulders slumped as you shuffled over to the fridge, your body moving on autopilot. The sting of tears was still fresh in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall again, not in front of him. Jack finally looked up from his phone, his grin fading when he saw the look on your face. He straightened up, setting his mug down on the counter, his brow furrowing with concern. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more serious. You just hummed again, the sound weak and empty. You didn’t have the energy to explain, didn’t want to get into it with him. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you closely, but you kept your gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding his gaze. Jack took a step closer, his concern growing. “You sure?” he pressed gently, sensing something was wrong. “You don’t look so good.” You just shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, your chest aching with the effort of holding everything in. You needed to get out of there, away from his questions and his worry. You couldn’t deal with it, not now.

“I’m fine,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was a lie, and you knew he could see right through it, but you didn’t care. You needed to be alone, to let yourself fall apart without an audience. Jack watched you, his expression a mix of confusion and concern, but he didn’t push any further. He just nodded, letting you go. He knew you knew he was there if you needed him.

“Alright,” he said quietly, stepping back. “But if you need anything...” You nodded, not waiting for him to finish. You turned and headed upstairs, your steps heavy and slow. As soon as you reached your room, you closed the door behind you and sank onto your bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally came. The weight of the night before crashed down on you, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that tore through your chest. The shame, the regret, the confusion—it was all too much. You’d thought you could handle it, thought you could keep it together, but now, alone in your room, it all felt too heavy to bear. You cried until there were no tears left, your body shaking with the force of your sobs. And when you finally stopped, when the tears finally ran dry, you were left with nothing but the hollow ache in your chest and the haunting memory of Trent’s rejection.

You were absolutely mortified. You had kissed Trent. How could you have done something so reckless? You laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling on Layla’s bed at her place, your mind racing in sheer panic. Every nerve in your body felt on edge, replaying that moment over and over. What was worse was that it never happened before, not even close, but something had come over you—like instinct taking over reason—and now you regretted it. Layla shifted beside you, sensing your turmoil.

“Come on, it won’t that bad,” she said in an attempt to soften the blow. You groaned, rolling onto your side to face her.

“No, Lays. I can never, ever see him again.” The words came out in a rush, your voice cracking under the weight of your embarrassment. She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“That’s not true.” She told you. You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, your breath shaking.

“It is! I crossed the line. And he… rejected me.” The last part was barely a whisper, like speaking it aloud made the sting of it even worse. You felt your face grow hot, the emotions swelling until they spilled over. The rejection was unbearable, and before you knew it, tears slipped down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, wiping at your face. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” you said, your voice wavering between a sob and a chuckle. Layla immediately wrapped you in her arms, pulling you close.

“No, it’s not just tiredness,” she murmured into your hair, holding you tightly. “This sucks. The boy you like just said no. That’s a lot to handle, but we move.” You stayed in her embrace, taking in her warmth, but her words only made your heart ache more.

“I’m not even sure if I just like him,” you admitted, voice small and hollow as you pulled away slightly to look at her. Layla’s face twisted in confusion.

“What?” she asked, blinking, and then a knowing look crossed her face as she softened. “Oh no. Babe…” You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears.

“I mean, I do… but it’s more complicated than that. It’s not just like.” The weight of the word hung in the air between you both, unspoken but understood.

“You love him,” Layla said quietly with a frown she couldn’t control, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But maybe right now, the feeling of love is for your friend.” She paused, her eyes full of sympathy. “You don’t need to hurt yourself imagining anything more, okay? Not right now.” You bit your lip and nodded, the tears still threatening to spill over. You were exhausted, heartbroken, confused. You knew you loved Trent as Jack's best friend, as a friend of your own but you had never had an intimate relationship to say you loved him any deeper than that. The thought of those feelings right now though were making you sick.

“But what if I can’t face him? What if it’s too awkward?” Layla shook her head and gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll bounce back. Trent’s nice. He’s not going to make fun of you for this or make it weird. You two have been friends for too long for that.” But deep down, you couldn’t shake the sting of rejection. Maybe Layla was right—Trent wouldn’t make fun of you, but things weren’t the same anymore. Not after this.

When Jack invited Trent along with all the other boys over for a movie night a few days later, Trent was hesitant. He knew you might be home, and he wasn’t sure how you’d feel seeing him. But Jack was his best friend, and Trent figured maybe it was time to face the music. As Trent walked up to Jack’s front door, his nerves were on edge. He took a deep breath and knocked, his mind racing with what he might say if you were there. The door swung open, and Jack greeted him with a grin, pulling him into a quick hug.

“All good, mate?” Jack said, stepping aside to let Trent in. But Trent only hummed. He managed a smile, following Jack inside. He glanced around the living room, half-expecting to see you curled up on the couch. But the room was empty. “Y/N’s out,” Jack said casually, noticing Trent’s quick survey of the room. “I think she’s been a bit off lately. Haven’t seen much of her.” Trent nodded, trying to hide his relief that you weren’t home but sadness Jack noticed things were off..

“Yeah, I haven’t seen her either,” he replied, his voice steady despite the churn in his stomach. Jack grabbed a bottle of water and handed one to Trent.

“She seemed pretty fucked up when she came back from a night out but didn’t tell me much, though.” Trent took a long sip of his water, not sure how to respond. Jack and Trent were sitting in silence on their phones only best friends could sit in whilst waiting in the kitchen for the other boys to show up. Trent kept glancing toward the hallway, waiting for the moment you would come home. He wanted to see you, to talk to you, to somehow make things right. But as the minutes ticked by and there was no sign of you, a sense of unease settled in his chest. The sound of a key turning in the front door caught Trent’s attention. He tensed, his heart quickening as he heard the door open and close. A few seconds later, you appeared strutting through the house, your face mildly flushed from the summer heat outside. You froze when you saw Trent sitting there, your expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice tight.

“Hey,” Trent replied, his eyes locked on you. Jack, sensing the tension, cleared his throat.

“Hey, Y/N. Weird vibe but erm.. Lads are watching Shawshank tonight. Want to join?” He asked, trying to lessen whatever awkwardness just flooded the room. You shook your head, avoiding Trent’s gaze.

“No, thanks. I’m just going to head to my room.” Jack looked between the two of you, frowning slightly.

“You sure? You haven’t been out here much lately.” He cooed gently.

“I’m sure,” you smiled sympathetically at your older brother. You appreciated him caring but this was far from something he could help with. You turned and disappeared down the hallway without another word. Trent watched you go, the weight of your unfinished business hanging heavy in the air. He knew he needed to talk to you, to explain himself, but he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen. For now, all he could do was sit and wait, hoping for a chance to make things right.

You had spent the last few days trying to keep yourself busy, but no matter what you did, you couldn’t get Trent out of your mind. Trent, on the other hand, was torn between worry and respect for your space. He had tried to find you that night at the club, but it was like you had vanished into thin air. He didn’t want to push you, especially after how things had ended between you. Still, the thought of your hurt and alone gnawed at him. Trent thought about that kiss everyday and how much withstraint he was having to practice. He wanted to rip your clothes off, he had to stop his hands' magnetic pull to grab your ass. It was a typical movie night—Jack had all the boys over for another film. They’d yell through the whole thing and gossip in a way they’d claim only girls did. You knew the drill by now, but tonight felt different. You hadn’t seen Trent since that moment, the kiss that had turned everything upside down. You tried to ignore how awkward things were between you and trent but you were dying of thirst and you weren’t sure if dying of embarrassment of dehydration would be worse, You settled on dehydration so you moved quickly through the house, attempting to avoid where all the boys were, but Trent wasn’t going to let it go. He heard you try to sneak into the kitchen.

“Y/N,” he called out quietly, coming into the room behind you and taking a few steps toward you. You froze, your back to him, the tension thick in the air. You could hear Jack in the cinema complaining about something, completely oblivious you’d hoped. You weren’t ready for this, not now, not when your emotions were so raw.

“Please, I don’t want to talk to you,” you said firmly, your voice low, trying to keep the emotion out of it.

“Y/N, come on… just give me a minute,” he persisted, his voice filled with a quiet plea.You whipped around, eyes already welling up.

“Trent, I really don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, trying to hold your composure. “Frankly, I’m having a hard time even just seeing you right now, so please,” you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. You could feel your chest tightening, the tears threatening to spill. His face softened, but he didn’t move.

“I just want to talk. Please,” he said, sounding desperate now, like he was grasping at straws. But you couldn’t do this. Not here. Not with Jack just a few rooms away. You shook your head, blinking back tears, but one escaped anyway.

“I don’t want to talk,” you choked out, your voice shaLay, as the tears began to build along your lash line. Trent stood there, helpless. His hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do, caught between wanting to comfort you and knowing that he couldn’t—not here, not now. You could see the frustration and guilt etched on his face, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice laced with regret. But you just shook your head again and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, stuck in the mess that neither of you had any idea how to clean up. And the worst part was, Jack was still there—completely unaware of the storm brewing between you two, his heart left open to wounded arguably as much as yours if you couldn’t sort this.

Trent thought about that drunk, tearful kiss at the club every single day. It replayed in his mind over and over, the taste of it, the way your lips had trembled against his, the way your hands had gripped onto him like he was the only thing anchoring you. He hadn't even expected it—had been caught off guard by how much he wanted it too. But then, the reality had hit him hard. The restraint he had to practice afterward felt like torture. It felt like trying to fight a g force the way his hands moved on your body. He wanted to rip your clothes off that night, to give in to the magnetic pull that constantly drew him to you. But he couldn't. Not like that. Not when you were drunk and emotional. Not when it could ruin everything. Now, the moment haunted him, and he was stuck in the limbo of not knowing what to do next. What if you regretted it? What if that kiss had meant something completely different to you than it did to him? And what scared him the most-what kept him up at night-was the realization that he didn't just want the kiss. He wanted more than that. He wanted you in a way that wasn't just about desire or physical attraction. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, who you leaned on, who you could trust with all the messy bits of life. But what if he'd already blown his chance? What if that kiss had been the beginning of the end rather than the start of something more?

This tension carried on for days. Neither you or Trent making any further attempts at sorting it. Trent sat at a restaurant with Jack and Noah one night, completely lost in his own thoughts. His fork hovered above his plate, food untouched, as he stared blankly at the table. Jack, noticing how quiet he’d been, shot Noah a look. They’d been trying to get him to open up all night, but nothing was working.

“Mate, seriously, what’s going on?” Jack finally asked, setting down his drink. “You’ve barely said two words.”

“Yeah, you’ve been in your own head all night. Go on.” Noah chimed in. Trent talked nonstop all the time so this was very out of character and it’d been going on for over a week. Trent shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t sure if this was something he should even bring up, especially not with Jack sitting right there. But the weight of what happened between him and you had been pressing down on him for days, and he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He ran a hand over his hair, debating how to word it without setting off alarm bells.

“Have you ever…” he began slowly, his voice low, “turned down a girl and then immediately regretted it?” He sheepishly asked his eyes, flicking to both boys trying to gauge their responses.

“Nah, mate. If I turn her down, it’s for a reason.” Noah, always the confident one, scoffed.

“Yeah, once or twice. Why?” But Jack, ever the romantic, leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful nod. Trent’s eyes flickered between them, his stomach churning as he chose his next words carefully. He had to be vague, had to make sure Jack wouldn’t catch on.

“There’s this girl…” he started. He hesitated, feeling the weight of his own words. “She kissed me, but she was drunk, so I pushed her away. Now she’s pissed, and she won’t talk to me.” Trent hesitantly explained. Trent wasn’t normally shy talking about women so this whole thing was very confusing for his friends.

“So why did you turn her down if you’re this worked up about it?” Noah’s brow furrowed.

“Because she was drunk!” Trent said, frustration lacing his voice. He looked down at the table, unable to meet their eyes. “I didn’t want it to be like that.” Jack shrugged, clearly puzzled.

“That’s more than valid, mate. If she was drunk, you did the right thing. Why wouldn’t she understand that?” Trent groaned inwardly, knowing he couldn’t explain the real reason behind his frustration without giving too much away. The truth was, he didn’t want just a drunken kiss. He wanted more than that—something real, something that wasn’t just swept under the rug as a mistake.

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice trailing off. Noah, always the one to push for action, smirked.

“Next time you see her, just go for it. Easy.” He looked at Trent like he had solved his issue no problem. Trent couldn’t help but laugh at the simplicity of Noah’s solution. If only it were that easy. He wasn’t just dealing with any girl—this was you, Jack’s sister. It wasn’t something he could just ‘go for’ without thinking about the consequences. Jack, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward with a more serious expression.

“Mate, just talk to her. Tell her you actually care about her and that you want it to be something she remembers, not something that happened when she was drunk. Simple as.” Trent’s heart sank. Jack had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what he wanted to say to you, but how could he? How could he tell you that he cared about you—really cared about you—when Jack was right there, completely unaware of the storm brewing between the two of you? He tried to keep his expression neutral as Jack gave advice, but guilt gnawed at him. He was about to take his best mate’s advice and use it to get closer to his little sister. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and it made his stomach twist. But he couldn’t keep running from the situation. He had to talk to you, had to tell you how he felt before it drove him insane. Noah, oblivious to the deeper layers of the situation, laughed and gave Trent a light punch on the arm.

“Yeah, man. What’s the worst that could happen? You talk, she listens, and you two figure it out, I imagine she’s leng.. Get her in bed. Done.” Noah quipped and Trent’s guilt worsened. He forced a chuckle, but his mind was already elsewhere. What was the worst that could happen? Jack could find out. He could lose his best friend. You could reject him, or worse—tell him that kiss was nothing more than a drunken mistake. The thought made his chest tighten. But Noah’s lightheartedness didn’t calm Trent’s nerves. Jack’s advice, however, echoed in his mind—talk to her, tell her how you feel. Trent knew it was the right move, but the fear of rejection, of ruining everything, loomed over him like a dark cloud. As they finished dinner and paid the bill, Trent’s thoughts were already on what was coming next. He was heading to your house after this. You’d be there. Jack would be there. And somehow, amidst it all, he had to figure out how to have that conversation. As they walked to the cars, Jack patted Trent on the back.

“You’ll be alright, mate. Just don’t overthink it.” Trent forced a smile, but his mind was racing. He couldn’t shake the anxiety bubbling inside him. Jack’s words rang in his ears, and he knew he had to take the advice, but how? As Trent drove to your house, the weight of everything pressed down on him. He was about to walk into a house where everything could change in a matter of minutes. He wanted more than a kiss, more than just a fleeting moment—but what if you didn’t? What if that kiss had meant nothing to you? You only said you didn’t want to see him… were you just mad. He couldn’t tell. Pulling into the driveway, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He had to talk to you. He had to try, even if it scared him to death

Trent awkwardly made his way into the living room, his heart pounding as he spotted you already seated on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you. You looked adorable and it made him sadder. You were curled up in the corner, your eyes glued to the TV, but he could tell from the stiffness in your posture that you were aware of his presence. The soft glow from the screen cast a flickering light over your face, highlighting the tension in your jaw and the way your lips were pressed into a thin line. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should sit down. But with a deep breath, he took a seat next to you, careful to leave a respectful gap between you. The silence between you was thick, almost tangible, and he could feel the awkwardness settling over you like a heavy blanket.

“Hey,” he said softly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. You barely acknowledged him, giving a short nod without looking away from the TV.

“Hey,” you replied curtly, your tone clipped. Trent’s heart sank a little at your cold reception. Never in his life had you greeted him like this and it was starting to eat at him but he couldn’t blame you. He knew he’d hurt you that night, and he was ready to face the consequences. He could imagine what he would feel like if you said no to him. Still, the distance between you now felt like a chasm, one he was desperate to cross. He kept his eyes on the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the show, but he was acutely aware of every small movement you made—the way you shifted slightly, the soft sound of your breath, the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. He wanted to say something, anything to bridge the gap, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. Minutes passed in silence, the tension between you unyielding. Trent’s mind raced with what he could say or do to make things right. He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to overstep, but he also didn’t want to let this moment slip away without trying. Finally, gathering his courage, he reached out and gently placed his hand on your leg, just above your knee. It was a tentative touch, his fingers light and hesitant, but it was enough to make you stiffen slightly under his hand. You glanced down at his hand, then up at him, your eyes wide with surprise.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t mean to upset you that night.” He cooed gently. Your gaze remained on his hand for a moment longer before you sighed, your shoulders relaxing a fraction.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “For… trying to kiss you. I was drunk and— Clearly that’s not something you want and I get that…” You earnestly and awkwardly were trying to apologize but Trent couldn’t help but chuckle softly, interrupting you.

“You honestly think I didn’t want to kiss you back?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. He kept his eyes on the TV, a coy smile tugging at his lips. “Trust me, Y/N, it took everything in me to stop.” You looked at him, a flicker of confusion mixed with curiosity in your eyes.

“Then why did you?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost vulnerable. Trent’s smile faded slightly as he turned to meet your gaze.

“Because you were upset and not in a good place. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, especially after what that asshole did to you.” You flinched at the mention of Josh, the hurt from his cruel words still fresh in your mind. You looked away, your eyes downcast.

“He… he said some awful things. It wasn’t great,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Trent’s grip on you tightened just a fraction, his touch becoming more reassuring. You sat there, your heart pounding as Trent's words hung in the air. He'd never spoken to you like that-direct, unfiltered, like he'd been holding back for too long. The way he placed his hand on your thigh, his fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of every inch of contact, sent a spark straight through you. Your mind raced to keep up, to make sense of what was happening, but he was already pushing forward, his tone low, serious, like he needed you to understand.

"That kid's a fucking idiot for losing you," he said, his voice tight, almost angry. "Saying whatever he could to make you feel small... he doesn't know shit about you, and you know that. Right?" You nodded slowly, words caught in your throat. It was true-you did know, somewhere deep down. But hearing it from Trent felt different, grounding, and it made the sting of your ex's words fade, bit by bit. Trent's hand stayed warm on your thigh, a quiet promise in the small gesture. You glanced up at him, your eyes searching his face. You could see the sincerity in his expression, the way his brow furrowed slightly with concern.

“You really think that?” You asked quietly, your voice tinged with disbelief. Trent nodded, a small, earnest smile playing on his lips.

“I know that. You’re smart, occasionally funny,” he teased with a glint in his eyes and your lips curled, “you’re the sweetest girl I know, and—” he hesitated for a moment, his cheeks flushing slightly, “—gorgeous. You’re fucking gorgeous. Anyone who can’t see that is a fucking donut.” He kept his eyes on the TV, trying to play it cool, trying to be nonchalant in case anyone else happened to come into the room but he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He risked a quick glance at you and saw a soft smile slowly spreading across your face. The sight of it made his own heart lighten, the tension between you beginning to ease.

"Trent.." you started, wanting to say something, anything, but he shook his head slightly, a glimmer of intensity in his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he interrupted, each word sounding heavier than the last. It was like he'd been carrying them around, waiting for the right moment to let them out. You felt your cheeks flush, a mix of nerves and thrill rushing through you as his gaze stayed locked on yours. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so it’d be impossible for anyone else to hear, his hand firm on your thigh. "And just so you know... that's not the way you get bruises. Never again. I'll fucking kill him if he ever comes near you." His eyes were dark, protective in a way that felt both comforting and incredibly dangerous. Then, in the midst of the tension, he smirked, the intensity softening into something else, something teasing. "The only bruises you ever get are from not being bored in the bedroom. Yeah?” Your breath caught, your face flushing as his words registered. You recalled telling when you split with Josh citing boredom in the bedroom as a problem but you were surprised he remembered that. Surprised he just said that to you. Before you could respond, he gave you a wink, that same smirk lingering as he stood up and walked away, leaving you stunned, heart racing, and desperate for him to come back.

You laid in your bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts about Trent. You could hear the low rumble of laughter drifting up from downstairs where Jack, Trent, and their friends were still hanging out. But your thoughts were miles away, lost in memories of Trent and all the moments you’d shared over the years. You closed your eyes and let the images flood your mind. The way he’d smile at you from across a room, a mischievous glint in his eyes, or the way he always seemed to find a reason to touch you—a hand on your shoulder, a playful nudge, his arm brushing against yours when they sat close. You thought about all the times he’d said sweet things to you, little compliments and comments that you’d always brushed off as friendly banter. You tried your entire life not to take the pet name ‘pretty girl’ too seriously, you always thought maybe he said that to every girl but now it felt personal and just for you. Was he talking about bruises in the bedroom in a sexual way, yeah 100% but did he mean that he would give them to you? Leave love bites on you? Your mind was racing. But, lying there in the dark, you couldn’t help but wonder if there had been more to it. Your heart fluttered as you recalled the feel of his hand on your leg earlier tonight, the warmth of his touch and the firm yet gentle way he’d reassured you. You shivered, a pleasant tingle running through you as you thought of all the times his hands had been on you, even in the most innocent of ways. His touch always left a lingering warmth, a sensation that seemed to seep under your skin and settle deep within you, leaving you longing for more. You bit your lip, a wave of desire washing over you. In your longing haze, you wondered if maybe you’d been missing something all along. Had Trent been flirting with you all these years, in his subtle, teasing way but in all seriousness, did he want something? Was there something real to your relationship that you hadn’t let yourself see? Was it more than teasing? The thought sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation. Your fingers itched to reach for your phone, and before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed it from your bedside table. You couldn’t shake what he said to you, Trent had made it clear-it wasn't that he wasn't interested. Now, you were ready to take the risk, fully aware that all the boys were together. It was dangerous, maybe even reckless, but that only made it more exhilarating. They were watching a movie in the cinema room, the lights dimmed, everyone absorbed in whatever action scene was playing on the screen. You were upstairs in bed, restless and buzzing with anticipation. You flipped your phone camera to 0.5 to catch yourself at a high angle, tits prominently displayed in your thin bralette, the flash making your nipples obviously visible. You typed out a message, your fingers moving faster than your brain could catch up.

"Is this the appropriate place to get those bruises you were talking about?"

You pressed send, heart pounding in your chest. The silence afterward was deafening as you waited for a response. It was insane you just did this, but you couldn't back out now. A part of you wished you could retract it but there it was… ‘read.’ Trent opened the message, his heart skipping a beat. He blinked, unsure if he'd seen it right, unsure if you had actually sent it. This was the first time you'd ever texted him directly. Sure, you'd always been in the group chats-always flirty in your usual playful way-but nothing like this. The last personal message you'd sent was your order for a takeaway months ago, and before that, it had been something for your birthday and then passport details for a trip that seemed forever ago. A trip you weren’t sure why you were invited on to begin with but it was one where you'd teetered on the edge of something more with him but never quite tipped over. Now you had pushed things over that fragile edge with a stupid text. There was a reason for the limited texts though, because you knew it’d lead to something just like this. Trent swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the image, the words beneath it repeating in his head. He couldn't let the boys see this but he also didn’t want to look away. He couldn’t… but he had to.

Quickly, he swiped out of the message, his phone burning hot in his hand. He shoved the phone into his lap, screen down, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the visual of you barely in that bralette. He felt a slow, stupid grin spread across his face despite his best efforts. His heart was racing, and he could feel the tension building inside him. He knew things were spiraling. He'd always told himself this was a line he couldn't cross, but now? Now, it felt inevitable. Trent moved, his thumb hovered over his phone. He dimmed the screen, adjusted his seat in the chair, trying to play it cool making sure the other boys were none the wiser. His mind was racing, wondering if this was you really finally putting your hat in the ring. And god, if it was... there was no way he could say no. Now, all that was left was his response. Trent took his time responding, trying to be as calculated as possible. You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your throat as you waited for his response. The dots appeared then disappeared only to reappear, showing he was typing back, and your heart leaped into your throat. What was he going to say? Had you gone too far? You felt a rush of adrenaline mixed with a hint of fear. But underneath it all was a simmering excitement you couldn’t deny. You could practically feel the tension building in the air around you. Finally, your phone buzzed with a new message, and you hesitated before opening it, your pulse racing…

•

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

Next part - Chapter 3 - Crossed A Few Lines xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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uninformedartist · 3 months ago

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What was the point expecting anything other than dry bones for Millie, Loona even. Vivienne going as far making this bloody long thread (post at the end) hyping people up what she's got in store for Millie when we all know how she writes. Anything written for Millie or Loona or whatever female character is not really for them. Everything written for them has to 1 tie somehow in to a male character & 2 whats written for them ultimately developes a male character more.

Two instances in the latest episode. First instance:

Loona and Millie finally interacting that doesn't have to do with work or saving the other 2 (dorks episode). And what was their conversation about...Moxxie. Millie asking her to look after him. Which understandable Millie feels she has a lot on her plate having to deal with both of them at the same time but it comes back to their "development" comes centered around a man & furthering their character.

Side tangent on how their "development" developing male character more:

From this whole thing of Millie taking a client job what I learned about Moxxie is that he does the businesses finances, he overworks himself so much he 'shuts down' in highly stressful situations especially when its beyond his control or limits, he regrets he didn't become a theatre critic.

What I learnt about Millie, she cares for Blitz & Moxxie (know this), she actually has some sort of relationship with Loona (kind of this but its logical she would have). What I learnt on Loona, she's caring dispite her tough put on persona (definitively know this), she's smart as she picked up Moxxie didn't calculate properly (didn't know this but never doubted her intelligence really).

I learnt 3 new things about Moxxie and Millie & Loona just more examples of things I already know about them because it was said about them or things I never doubted they had already naturally.

Second instance:

Millie's backstory. Her whole backstory only came about because of Blitz, because of his hallucinations she brought up her backstory as a means of comfort to HIM.

Breaking apart her backstory, yeah she doesn't owe Blitz shit nor should apologise for this:

Blitz who we seen throughout the series has done a lot of respecting towards her and her husband.

Listing the "respecting" and not a full list only what I remember

*Episode 1 constantly mistreating and physically hurting her husband, end of the episode going as far making a rape threat towards both of them.

*Episode 2 having explicit sexual fantasies about the two of them at work knowing they've in a monogamous relationship & they established that firmly.

*Episode 5 constantly invalidates her husband in front of her & her family, doesn't show him an ounce of respect ever here.

*Episode 7 stalks them on a date the two of them planned, even after Moxxie verbally told him not to, he disregarded their boundaries in all regards

And so on and so forth so this line girl no.

You cannot establish multiple times Blitz was nothing but a piece of shit towards them then all of a sudden flip it that he actually saved her, gave her a good life ect and then have her say sorry dispite all previously established in show.

Aside, also good luck to her on career, a future in the long run. Millie your pension benefit is gone

💀✋

I know this show runs on having you "forget" what was previously established because its written like a bad fanfic but come on now its getting really ridiculous.

Vivienne YOU don't understand Millie or rather want to understand her more, only when you do is to when it comes to building your male characters more and just like the previous episodes, she fit the bill nicely developing Moxxie and Blitz further, Blitz more so. No amount of solid writing in this episode from Brandon and Waters can save the mess that is before this episode.

So this whole hype thread of hers was absolute nonsense, Millie sigh may you shine bright in the actual fanfics.

#vivziepop critical #my post #helluva boss critical #spindlehorse critical

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roadkillremi · 1 year ago

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Kinktober '23

7 out of 11

Voyeurism

Stu Macher X F!Reader

MasterList. Kinktober '23

Summary : after telling Stu your wildest fantasies, he tells you his. Characters are 18+

Warning : MINORS DNI, Smoking Weed, Mentions Riding, (Consented) voyeurism, masterbation, mural masterbation, language, slight knife play, blow job, face fucking.

I had lots of fun writing this one

When you dated Stu you knew he was quite... Romantic. You didn't know about his little fantasies. You were sitting on his bed messing with his hair. His head rested on your thigh as he smoked a joint.

"Do you ever have.. sexual fantasies?!" He looked up at you with a wide smile. You smirked, "Why?". He shrugged, "Maybe I wanna try it".

You leaned back balancing yourself with your arms. Stu sat up holding his blunt between his fingers. He had a toothy smile and leaned forward towards you.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.." he offered you his joint. You took it, you took a swift inhale feeling it spread to your lungs. Stu leaned forward hinting at shotgunning. You leaned forward, holding his chin still blowing into his mouth. He inhaled and smiled, "You're so hot when you do that."

You laughed softly handing him his joint back. You looked towards the doorway, "Won't your parents smell the weed?". He sighed looking towards the doorway, "They're on another vacation.". You looked towards him, sympathy written all over your face. He placed his joint on an ashtray on his nightstand. He leaned towards you giving you a small kiss.

"Don't feel bad.. it's the only way we can have so much fun." He kisses you again. You smirk wrapping your arms around his neck. He grabbed your waist pulling you on top of him laying down.

"I'm not riding you if that's what you're hinting at-" you groaned. He smiled, "No! I wanna hold you!". You give him a look, he breaks out a wide toothy grin and sticks out his tongue.

"Maybe I wanted that too!"

You pushed his shoulders down playfully. He scoffed, "What?!". You sigh, "Let's go back to talking about fantasies instead.". He hums picking his joint back up, "Go ahead". You sigh, "You... I know you've seen scary movies with Billy-".

"Yeah..".

You bite your lip trying to figure out a way to explain it. He waits taking a hit from his joint.

"Uh, so you know how there's a final girl?" You ask. He nods, "If this is a film lesson. Go to Billy or Randy-" he laughs. You sigh getting frustrated, he notices and stops laughing.

"Sorry, continue.".

"I.. I wanna be a final girl.. for you.." you slowly say it. He processes the words and widens his eyes.

"That's great!" He sits up.

"huh?"

He puts his joint back down, his hands quickly go to your hips. He excitedly smiles, "my fantasy is.. stalking you.. and.. watching you be.. all naughty, y'know?". He leans closer squeezing your hips. You gently slid your hands up his arms.

"Really?".He nods excitedly leaning in to kiss you.

That's how Stu came up with his little code calls. He'd randomly call you at night saying certain lines. If you responded like how he told you it was a yes.

You were busy putting up laundry as your phone rang in your room. You picked up the phone putting it to your shoulder.

"Hello?" You walked over to your bed the wire extending.

"Hey, baby!" Stus voice boomed. You smiled, "Hey!". You put your folded shorts in a basket carrying it to your dresser.

"Whatcha up to?" He cooed

"Laundry, you?"

"Boring... I was.. about to go on a walk" you could hear the smile on his face. You smirk looking out your window. It was your parents date night they should be gone for awhile.

"Id love to join you, Stuey.." you bit your lip. He let out a small victory 'yes!'.

"It'll be a 15 minute stroll-" he added hanging up. You panicked looking at your clothes. Fifteen minutes?! You weren't going to be ready by then. You quickly put your phone back and opened your window. You put a tank top and pajama shorts on and made your bed. You sighed crawling into bed trying to steady your heart rate. The phone rang again, you got up answering it.

"I'm here.." he hung up. You smiled to yourself putting the phone down. You looked into your mirror putting red lipstick on. You heard shuffling in the bushes, you glanced over with a small smile. You walked over to your bed laying on it.

Stu watched you from outside, his eyes traced every inch of you. The way you put the lipstick on that he bought you. The pop of your lips once you finished putting it on.

You now laid out on your bed running your hands up your torso. Stu grinned, he knew you were putting on a little show just for him. He watched your hand go over your shorts. You let out soft whimpers as you rubbed circles over your clothed clit

Stu quickly unzipped his fly bringing himself out. He breathed heavily holding his penis in his hand. He watched as you spit on your fingers, he copied you imagining his spit as yours. Your hand slid into your shorts, he slowly started pumping. He followed your pace only going as fast as you did. He groaned wanting your hand on him.

He watched you desperately pump your fingers into yourself. He stepped closer to your window. You softly moaned out his name as you squirmed to your touch. Whimpers of 'Stu' flooded out your mouth. He caved in crawling through the window pulling out his pocket knife.

You stopped backing into your head board. He smirked pointing his knife at you, "No no no... finish what you started..". You nodded going back to fingering yourself. He smiled reaching for your shorts pulling them down. He leaned down pressing his thumb against your clit. You whined backing away from the touch as your stomach coiled.

He smirked, "Such a stupid girl, leaving her window open..". You stared up at Stu, "Anyone could come in... And hurt you". He smiled and laughed a bit, "come here.". He moved his head to the side motioning you to come forward. You crawled towards him looking up at him.

"Be a good girl and suck me off..". You looked down at cock, you nodded. He put his knife under your chin, you opened your mouth for him. He pushed his hips forward shoving himself into your mouth.

He let out a long 'fuck' before grabbing your hair. He pushed your head down feeling you gag a bit before pulling it back up. He chuckled, "Do you like being face fucked?". You just stared up at him, he smiles.

"Well I hope you do..". He pushed your head back down. He continued to make you gag on him laughing at your smeared lipstick. Watched as your face became a complete wreck.

Puffy lips, swollen cheeks, lipstick smeared across your lips and his cock. He smiled holding your chin, "That's a good girl.".

Tag list - @stusdollface93 @hurlonsororitygirls @sanzumylovee @katie-tibo @horneybeach1 @ithinkitszeph

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batboyblog · 6 days ago

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i live in the south, and i used to follow someone on here who lives in the same state as me, who i thought would've understood how difficult things are for marginalized people who live in red states and why we needed harris to win. but they kept reblogging posts about how both parties are the same and anyone who votes for harris is voting for genocide (as if letting trump win was going to be any better?? he's just started talking about wanting to "clean out the whole thing" and forcibly displace all remaining palestinians by making them move to jordan and egypt, an idea which every group who would be affected hates 🙄). i kept hoping they'd finally realize the very obvious fact that contributing to trump's win wasn't going to make things better for any decent person in the world but the last straw for me was when they posted something like "well i was going to go vote for [fictional character] but the line was too long so i just went home haha!!" i blocked them right after that, and now of course trump is in office and things are going to get so much worse for me and for them as those of us in red states have so much less of a chance to push back against our local governments and all of the bigots who voted for trump will feel more emboldened by his win. so yeah, i share your small fantasy that people like that will wake up and realize they were wrong for spreading these ideas. sorry for venting in your inbox though lol, you don't have to reply to this if you don't want to!

One of my best friends in politics is from Louisiana. He's gay and when he came out his parents sent him to a pray the gay away camp where... really horrible shit happened. And I think about that skinny kid coming out of just the most horrible shit imaginable and being a Freshman in college working his ass off for a Red State Democratic Senator, Mary Landrieu, Mary didn't win, but he worked SO hard for her. And we met working on Hillary's campaign together, boy has bad luck with Democratic women running for office.

Any ways the point is, I love red state Dems, I really do. My friend really loved John Bel Edwards, now I don't think either of us really fully agreed with Edwards, I know my friend was as feminist as a gay boy can be and believed in the right to an abortion totally, Edwards was/is one of the rare pro-life Democrats. But my friend understood, a Democratic governor would protect more people's rights, do more for the poor and the disadvantaged. Edwards' signed an order day one in office banning LGBT discrimination in the state government, when a Republican took over 8 years later, day one, threw that order out, a lot like Trump undoing all the pro-LGBT orders Biden did and rolling back trans rights/access to federal documents that came about under President Obama and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.

I think thats the thing, in Red States and in America at large we share this big country with a lot of people most of whom are more conservative than I am, so how do I get as much of what I want as I can? Do I vote Mickey Mouse for President? no I vote for the candidate that will do the most good, I won't always agree with them, I don't agree with myself most of the time.

idk it's not... theoretical to me? I'm likely not writing my best work here but when it comes to voting I think about all the people in my life who needed help, if they got it or not, and the ways they were left behind or would have been life behind and all the kids out there, queer kids trans kids, the poor always the poor kids, you know and the loss they'll suffer because of 4 years of a Republican President. And yes Trump is a VERY bad Republican President but if we ever get to some future after him there will come a time where maybe a bland centrist Democrat will run against a business focused Republican, Bush V Gore? and people will say "oh there's no difference" and there is.

oh also I want to say, the little old ladies, the normie "cringe lib" wine moms and grandmas (and yes dads and granddads, but more women then men tbh) who struggle with a grand-nephews pronouns did more for trans rights by going out knocking doors for Harris one weekend, then shitty leftist posters (trans and not) who endlessly attacked Dems and voting.

any ways I'm sorry all this is happening, idk what state you're in or how bad it is or will be. I don't have easy answers for living through this long night of the soul. As Thomas Paine put it all those years ago "These are the times that try men's souls: The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman." it is trying my soul, but I will endure as we all must endure, we can not give up we cannot fail, we cannot allow ourselves to be ground down by fascists, and by their handmaids who act as if they're on our side, I hope everyone is looking to what they can do, and what the next chance they have to fight back and take back political power is.

#politics #political #rambling #ask #answer

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hmslusitania · 2 years ago

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Ted Lasso is a portal fantasy

I know, I know it's not in any way a speculative fiction show. I know. Bear with me for a second. Ted Lasso is a portal fantasy, but the real question is whether this is the story we know from the Wizard of Oz, or Mary Poppins. Ted himself is at once Dorothy and Mary, and I think my reaction to the end of Ted's story, specifically, depends on whether you take the show at it’s title, that it’s about Ted Lasso (Dorothy) or take the show at Ted’s word that it was never about him (Mary Poppins).

To Ted, he is very literally Dorothy.

He’s away from Kansas, he’s surrounded by the reminder that “there’s no place like home”, and he spent the finale wearing honest to god ruby red sneakers. The evil wizard stalked down from his curtained owners box and was removed from power. The lion got her courage, the tin man for his heart, and the scarecrow got his brain, and Dorothy went back to Kansas (leaving Toto behind). But unlike Dorothy, we didn't really get the build up that Ted had to go back to Kansas to get what he wanted -- Henry back in his life. Rebecca even offered him the choice to stay, and the means to bring Henry and even Michelle back to London with him. Exactly zero compelling reason was offered to explain why Ted wouldn't take that offer. But he's Dorothy, in a portal fantasy, and that's what Dorothy does -- she goes home. It is the ending of the vast majority of portal fantasies, no matter how much it will fuck up the protagonist (there's a whole series detailing that damage and undoing it by tumblr's own Seanan McGuire which I highly recommend btw). To me, this is an unsatisfying ending for Ted himself, since no reason was given for him to turn down Rebecca's offer.

However.

To the Richmond family, Ted is Mary Poppins.

One of the complaints I’ve seen about this season is that we don’t know where Ted is, emotionally. Much like Mary Poppins, whose internality as a character is, at best, an afterthought. Mary Poppins is not the point of Mary Poppins. The children she helps are the point of Mary Poppins, and when she leaves at the end, although you’re sad to see her go, you know the kids she left there have grown as people and will continue to grow by her example and her benevolent Julie Andrews ways. And by and large, you don’t really worry about the place Mary Poppins goes to. She’s Mary Poppins and she’ll do what she does and ours is not to question etc. ("Mary Poppins isn't a portal fantasy" yeah, I know, technically, but it's kind of an inside out portal fantasy since there's a character who came from another kind of realm, who swept in to be the answer to some problem, and then went home {or, wherever}; it's just we're seeing it from the pov of the locals rather than the person from the other realm.)

The Richmond Team have all grown as people under Ted's stewardship. As we’ve seen in the character progressions particularly of Roy, of Nate, of Rebecca, they will continue in the Richmond way that they’ve developed. Forever changed by Ted sailing in on his parasol, missing him certainly, but able to continue. More narrative weight is given to the Mary Poppins side of the story, and in this scenario, I take much, much less issue with Ted's the character's ending.

In conclusion, Ted Lasso is the story of Mary Poppins staring Dorothy Gale in the titular role.

#Ted lasso #Ted lasso spoilers

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pinguwrites · 1 year ago

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Kinktober 2023 | Day Ten — William Killick + uniform kink, dirty talk

Pairing -> dom!william killick x wife!reader

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), dom!william, sub!reader, mention of military duty, use of good girl, sir kink, captain kink, william in his uniform>>>>>

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

“I knew you liked it,” William said sweetly, resting his forehead against yours. He cupped your cheeks in his hand, caressing it with his fingers. “I can see the way you look at me when I wear it. All bothered-like. Just want a strong man to take care of you, hmm?”

You shuddered. William was right. You did like it when he wore his uniform, especially now that you were finally seeing him against after his deployment. How was it your fault he looked so damn good in it? It complimented his skin tone, it matched his dark brown hair almost perfectly, and it outlined his body, showing that he was strong and muscular and fit. When he wore it, it was like he commanded respect, and when you were by his side, it felt like no one could hurt you, that you were under protection, William’s protection. That you were his.

“Yeah,” you admitted, trying not to get all flustered about it. If you didn’t downplay the situation you were sure you’d be in for nights of teasing. “It just, it looks nice on you. It’s a pretty colour.”

Images of fantasies you’ve had came up in your head. You tried to push them down, but you couldn’t stop thinking about them, especially now . . . William, holding you in his arms, shielding you from the dangers of the outside world. He would command you and dominante you, but in the loveliest ways — in a caring way. In a way that said he loved you. Sometimes he’d be on top, fucking you so good, but with his uniform on. He’d ask you — no, demand you call him ‘Captain’, and you would.

William kissed you softly, his lips brushing up against yours. “I know it is. Is this what you want?” he asked.

“What?”

“Is this what you want?” he repeated. “To make love to you in this uniform?” His hands trailed up under your shirt, aiming to touch your breasts. “I can do that. Only if you want it.”

“Yes!” you immediately said, then averted your eyes, embarrassed at how eager you sounded. “William, I want it.”

“Darling,” he cooed. He picked you up in his arms, bridal style, and carried you to the bedroom, laying you gently on the mattress. “I’ll give it you. But first we need to lay some ground rules, okay?”

You looked up at him, curious, while he unbuckled his belt. What a wonderful sight.

“It’s not William anymore,” he said sternly. “You’ll call me Captain Killick. I deserve it, don’t I? For my wife to respect my position?”

“Yes, sir.” You could feel your body getting hotter, and the area between your legs wetter.

“You’ll be obedient, too. No brattiness,” he said, as he pulled his fat cock out, “no pleas or cries. Just ‘yes, sir’, ‘I’ll do anything to please you, sir’. I’ve served you all those years out there, fighting to keep my darling girl safe, and in return you’ll serve me. On your knees with your mouth, legs spread with your cunt — whatever I ask.”

Your response was filled with lust, “Yes, sir. Whatever you ask.”

“Good girl.” He gave you a proper kiss this time, a passionate one, with his tongue sweeping over your lips and pushing its way into your mouth. He let out a muffled groan, hiking up your skirt and pulling down your panties.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he said in your ear. You hesitated. He had never taken you in that position before, but you obeyed nonetheless, waiting in anticipation.

“Ohh,” William moaned, pushing his cock into your wet pussy. He immediately started thrusting, hard and fast, without giving you a chance to adjust.

“William!” you yelped, clutching onto the bed sheets for some stability.

He swiftly spanked your ass.

“C-captain Killick,” you corrected, little whimpers leaving your mouth.

“Good girl. Ah, fuck — I can feel you clenching,” William said, his balls slapping against your skin, but you could also hear the sound of clothing shuffling. “Like it this much? Being—under my control? Dirty.”

You squirmed and tried to cover your wanton moans by placing your hand over your mouth, but William pinned your hands behind your back the moment he noticed what you were doing. “No, I want to hear your moans. Don’t hide them from me . . ."

He slowed his pace down and leaned over, his stomach touching your back. His thrusts were now more stiffer, and rough, pushing his way deep inside you. “Need to do this more often. Getting you so wet . . . I’ve missed you, it’s been so long since I’ve been inside of a woman.”

He cupped your bouncing breasts, pinching your nipples, eliciting a squeak out of you. “My darling wife. I love you . . . Now, stop squirming," he chastised, "and let me fuck you good."

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@henrywintersdearestgirl

#william killick #william killick x reader #william killick x you #william killick x y/n #cillian murphy #fanfiction #the edge of love #pinguwrites

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theinstagrahame · 6 days ago

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Another big month of TTRPG mail calls! Got a bunch of zines, some Crowd funders, and treated myself to a book or two when I got my new job lined up.

Here's what's exciting from the last month:

Death of the Author: I've said before that we (as in I) love the work of Sam "@goblinmixtape" Leigh, and before I got into TTRPGs, I wanted to do fiction writing (I found that I got from TTRPGs what I wanted from writing). So the pitch felt like an instant yes: A solo RPG about writing fiction, and the relationship between author and character.

The World we Left Behind: Sam Leigh put this together apparently for a Ballet, which is incredibly cool, and then put it as an add-on for the Death of the Author campaign. Needless to say, I was all in.

Urban Shadows 2e: Backed this on Kickstarter before Magpie did the A:tlA campaign, and it's finally showed up now. If I'm honest, my interest has waned, but I know US 1e was really good.

Zephyr: The art and the concept behind this are great, and I know that the creator makes some really neat mechanics.

Glitch: I picked this (well, 0 edition of Glitch) up on Kickstarter years ago, because the pitch was so good, but I didn't get a hard copy then. Managed to use some DTRPG money I had to rectify this mistake. Jenna Katerin Moran's work is very philosophically interesting, but I was hooked by the notion of being a demigod who knows that there's more going on, but is going to deal with street level concerns.

The Flood: Also a Moran game, and came to be as part of The Far Roofs (which I'm sure will be featured in a future mail bag post). There's a beauty to Jenna's work, a blending of metaphor and reality that I'm really drawn to, so I'm very curious about how farming poetry will work out.

Reach of the Roach God: When I landed my new job, I pretty quickly landed on what I wanted to pick up. I found out about the Thousand Thousand Island books a little too late, so I wanted to make sure I snagged this beautiful volume before I couldn't find it anymore. It's a real triumph of a book, and I can't wait to dig deeper.

Ironsworn: Sundered Isles: I am on record as loving Ironsworn and Starforged. What if instead of Space, we had Pirates?! Hell yeah, sign me up. Ironsworn/Starforged are probably the solo RPGs I've had the most success playing, in that I got furthest into these before getting distracted by other things. So maybe I'll get myself into another one?

The Wizard's Library: I've been really intrigued by Vincent Baker's Wizards Grinoire series, although I've read (and not yet played) only the first. It's got a neat reverse relationship, where the "GM" player is the titular Wizard, and the other players run the supporting cast, helping the Wizard delve into the grimoires that they discover Fortunately, this book contains more grimoires for the titular wizard to go through, and with them, more dangers for the wizard to face.

Fabula Ultima: I've heard only good things about this self-billed "TT-JRPG" and I'm really curious about it. Final Fantasy and the Pokemon series both being such long-term loves of mine, I'm very curious to see how this one runs. (Also picked up the Quickstart for a future Mailbag.)

Wet Grandpa: Listened to an episode of RTFM about this, after seeing the name around for years, and finally picked it up. I always found the title off-putting, and really couldn't get past it until my favorite TTRPG Book Club Podcast dragged me through the cover. The physical edition is a beautiful, rugged-looking book and my mind keeps reeling at the possibility of making players make hard choices.

Psychodungeon: I really dug the pitch, and Kayla Dice makes some really fun and interesting games. Be part of a team that helps people manage their trauma after it manifests into a psychic dungeon. What intrigued me most was the use of the Belonging Outside Belonging system for this, which I think really opens up some interesting possibilities for the Workplace Drama angle, and the GMless aspect could lead to some extremely fascinating dungeons.

Stewpot: This one as a no-brainer. I've got lots of friends who are into the "cozy" genre of game, and Stewpot has been The Name in fantasy coziness for a while (for lack of a better terminology, as I know it's a loaded term). The special edition (and wooden dice) were too tempting, even though the crowdfunder hit during my Freelance Era, and cost a few extra...

Any%: I watched the HBomberGuy video about Speedrunning (shortly after his Plagiarism video dropped), and developed a soft spot for the hobby. I genuinely couldn't do it, I'm too ADHD to try the same thing over and over again in hopes of shaving a fraction of a second off of my response time. But, I'm glad that people are doing it. So, a solo RPG that plays with speedrunning and its terminology seems like a great way to feel like I'm doing it without all the Bad Brain Juices.

Pregame Lobby volumes 1 and 3: I also wanted to grab these before they became too hard to find (I can't find anywhere that has Volume 2 at the moment). I really like the vibes of .Dungeon, it feels like a game that evokes a period in my life where I was curious about the Internet and tried just about every MMORPG that wasn't WoW or EverQuest. I'm honestly struggling to not pick up the recent Spiral Bound edition, despite getting the hardback 2e, because the art and layout looks goddamn incredible.

And these books are from the Plus One EXP Zine Club, which is a Zine of the Month Club, hand-picked and hand-curated. So I'm excited because I don't actually know much about them.

Metalepsis

Fire & Stone

Hapsy Kordo's Kitchen Horrors

This Old House

Hive of the Crawling Creeps

Fallen from Grace

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #ttrpg design #ttrpg mail call #indie ttrpgs #fantasy ttrpg #scifi rpg #fabula ultima #.dungeon #stewpot #ironsworn #solo ttrpg

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billiethepumpkin · 1 year ago

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Fantasy Coming True

Kinktober 8th (Late)

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for those ages 18 years and older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: Female reader. Soft dom reader. Jerking off. Handjob. Pussyjob. Male ejaculation. Teasing.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be aged 18 years or older because I am an old fuck :)

It was late.

It was very late, in fact, when Denki walked through the door of the apartment that you shared. He’d been away for multiple nights, working hard to crack a case in a different city. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. He had called you every night, but it wasn’t nearly the same as being near you, touching you, holding you.. He knew how late it was. But for some reason he thought there might be a chance that you were awake, waiting for him, the way he was waiting for you.

He had let you know he was coming home today, right? Yeah, he specifically remembered the phone call. “Hey, baby!” he had said. “It’s gonna be late tonight, but I’m finally gonna get to come home.” And you were so excited! You couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night as you did your daily chores.

But now, the apartment was dark, except for the small night lights you insisted on keeping in every room.

When the door locked shut behind him, Denki finally let all his walls down. He didn’t realize how tired his body was until he set his duffle bag down next to the door, shoulders slumping and lungs sighing heavily. He trudged to your shared bedroom, desperate just to see you.

When the bedroom door swung open, Denki saw you, the way you always slept. You were curled up under a blanket, the television flickering different colors over your body. You were breathing steadily, and Denki couldn’t help but smile as he watched you for a moment. That’s my girl, he thought.

Denki carefully took off his clothes, trying hard not to wake you up, and he slipped into his spot on the bed next to you. The sheets were cool and comforting over his body, and he sighed as he fell into his own bed.

That was when he smelled you.

It couldn’t have been long that you were asleep. Your hair was still wet from your shower. He could still smell your shampoo, the one he loved so much because it smelled like summer. Denki had missed that smell, the scent of you thoroughly coating him in love. Had you actually tried to stay up for him? Maybe you had stayed awake as long as you could, and eventually, you just gave up.

Then another thought crossed his mind.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about the first time you had showered together. You had joined him in the shower after a long day of work for the both of you. You had washed his hair with your shampoo, your naked body pressed against his. You had gently kissed his neck and shoulders as you rinsed it out. Denki had thought, this must truly be paradise.

And now, he felt a warmth creep over his cheeks and ears as the memory of his own personal heaven washed over him and sprang his arousal to life. Kaminari breathed deeply as he remembered the things that came after. You, sitting on your knees in front of him. Your fist wrapped around the base of his cock. Your soft lips gliding over the shaft.

Kaminari took another glimpse at you. Your back was bare. He lifted the covers to get a better look, and he saw your bare ass cheeks. You weren’t wearing anything. Oh, god, you were trying to kill him, weren’t you? You were trying to make him so hard and so needy that he combusted, huh? Were you waiting here naked for him? Kaminari was trying desperately to put the pieces together, but he just couldn’t. He had other things to think about, his cock twitching in his boxers as he involuntarily ground against the fabric. His face grew warmer, more and more red, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to wait.

Denki swallowed hard. What was he supposed to do? His cock was aching just from the thought of you. There was no way that this could wait until morning. If he didn’t do something about it, he was never going to be able to sleep.

So he took his cock out and started to stroke himself. He moved slowly at first, hoping that you wouldn’t wake up. But then he had a completely different thought. What if you did wake up? He knew you wouldn’t be mad. This had happened before. You had just taken his cock in your hand for him and whispered sweet nothings in his ear until his cum dribbled over your fingertips and onto his belly.

But what would you do this time? You hadn’t seen Kaminari in days. Maybe you’d missed him enough that you’d take him in your mouth this time. Or maybe you’d just get up and let him slide into you, and maybe you’d ride him until he finished in your warm, wet little pussy.

Yeah, that’s what you would do, he thought.

Thoughts just like that swam around in his mind. He was desperate for you, for some kind of relief. Kaminari held his breath as much as possible, trying to trap his moans and sighs inside his body. His eyes pinched shut, he moved his hand faster and faster, trying to find some kind of relief for the way his body craved you. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be enough, that he was still going to be so desperate just for you.

And, as if on command, you rolled over to face him, and your hand slid up his thigh and over the base of his cock. “Hi, baby,” you cooed in his ear. You stroked him slowly, much slower than he had been stroking himself. “Missed you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss on his neck, just below his ear. Denki was so viscerally aware of every sensation you gave him. Your gorgeous body was pressed up against his. Your lips were so soft, and your breath was warm on his neck. Goddamnit, please don’t stop, he thought.

He couldn’t even respond to your sentiments. Kaminari was so in shock, so surprised that his fantasy was coming true before his very eyes. Wait a minute, he thought. You didn’t seem very sleep-driven at all. Were you awake this whole time? Just waiting for him to come home and see what he did? He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t find any words to talk to you as your hand slid over his shaft.

Smoothly, as if you hadn’t been sleeping at all, you swung a leg over him and straddled him. Denki’s cock rested against his belly as you hovered over him. “Did you miss me, too?” you asked, pressing more kisses to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone.

“God, yes,” he finally answered, his hands rubbing over your thighs and grabbing your hips. He could feel your pussy lips gliding over his cock, but not allowing him to enter just yet. You were so wet already. How long had you been awake before you touched him? Had you been awake this entire time, feeling the bed shake and listening to him sigh?

Kaminari softly ground himself against you, feeling your slick on his member. He couldn’t help but whimper underneath you, feeling you slide over him so easily. If he could just get into the right position, he could just thrust up into you. And Denki needed it, desperately squirming to try and shove his cock into your pussy.

You started grinding against him faster, though. “I know what you want,” you said into his ear when you sped up. “But I think you can cum just like this, can’t you Denki?”

Kaminari couldn’t help but whine when you said that. He probably could. He knew he could. He could feel his balls getting tighter and tighter, his pleasure swarming his entire body. But he could smell your slick from where he laid, and every single touch just felt so fucking good. He wanted more. He needed more. Denki answered with a negative shake of the head.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I could stop,” you threatened, slowing your movements almost to nothing. “I don’t have to make you cum,” you teased.

“No, please,” Denki said. “I just want your pussy. Please.”

You smiled, continuing to grind on his cock. You could feel his length between your pussy lips, rubbing over your clit. But you were focused on him.

“But you have my pussy, baby,” you teased, pressing yourself down onto him to put more pressure on his dick. “It’s right here. And I think it’s about to make you cum,” you said. And you were right. Denki was holding back as much as possible, but he didn’t know how long he could hold out. He needed to cum. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. No matter how badly he wanted to flip you over and fuck you until you couldn’t walk. No matter how badly he wanted to cum inside you and make the ultimate claim over your body. Kaminari was going to cum, whether he wanted to or not.

With a whimper and a moan, you could feel Denki’s cum leaking from his cock, dribbling onto his belly and being spread onto yours. “That’s it, baby,” you cooed, grinding on him to ride out his orgasm. And god it felt so good, Denki thought. Even after just a couple of days, he had been so much more pent up than he even realized.

You pressed the sweetest, gentlest kisses over Denki’s face. He couldn’t help but smile, especially when you pressed a longer kiss to his lips and laid down on his chest. “Feel better?” you asked, your warm breath grazing along his jawbone.

“Mhm,” Denki hummed, feeling sleep wash over him.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you rolled off of him. “Goodnight, baby,” you whispered.

He was already asleep.

This work was written by Abigail "Billie" Rothenberger. Please do not copy this work on Tumblr or any other platform.

#mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha kinktober #bnha kinktober #mha denki #bnha denki #mha kaminari #bnha kaminari #denki x reader #denki smut #kaminari x reader #kaminari smut #kinktober #smut

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kedaked · 1 month ago

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Ok i lowkey wrote smths its ass but i wanted to share because its crossover related and all

Still here it is

Power is a disease, a disease that's supposed to make you feel strong and make you feel like you are best version of yourself, capable of doing anything at any given moment, a sickness so deadly that its capable to corrupt the minds of those who port the disease, making them into shallow cells of who they were before and losing their humanity in the pursuit of more of it, people addicted like junkies, Max is one of the porters, but this power, rewinding power more precisely doesnt feel the way a candidate for president should feel when they get elected and doesnt feel like the captain of a winning award football team keeping up their score, hell, it doesn't even feel like being a dictator of a country that so desperately wants you out of where you are but they cant do anything because you have the power.

She feels like she's dying, almost everyday of using her powers feels like one step closer to the end, nonstop headaches, bloody noses, blurry visions...the whole package of an anemic teen, the beatings havent stopped either, cliques want to start shit against the group for no other reason than to torment Jimmy more about the weight on his shoulders that is being accused of killing girls, one of them being his girlfriend, sure it sucks to be Max but it must suck to be Jimmy way more, right? Her head throbs as the thought passes through it, a cough escaping her mouth.

She should feel proud of where she is now, not every 15 year old gets superpowers like she does. She also has a super cool investigating friendgroup which she hangs out with and have made more progress than the cops in the cases of missing students! But instead it hurts, with great power, comes great.....shit.

"Here, have this Max, it will make you feel better, it's what i used to give Chloe everytime she got the flu." Max hears the accented voice of Joyce Price as the weight of the bed shifts, the woman now sitting beside her laying frame, holding a cup on her hands, smoke coming from the top signaling that its freshly made.

The door creaked open, letting a ray of light enter, Chloe wanted to see how Max was doing without disturbing her, she felt guilty enough with how she was making her go through to find Rachel and Zoe, if this was what having a superpower was like she thanked that no tribes or spiritual beings chose her to be the one to have them, she slowly closed the door and layed her back on the wall next to it.

"She's becoming a burden, Chloe." Said the boy who came after Max left, a seriousness in his voice that was so out of character for him, Gary had his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze directly on her face, until they finally made eye contact. She knew, she knew he was right but she would never tell him so, to what? Fill his ego even more than it already was? To make him even more arrogant? No, she didn't think of him that way, he could still see through her turmoil, as he did when they first met each other.

"We can't just leave her here and do all the work ourselves, she's the one with the powers--"

"Do you really believe that? That she has some kind of supernatural force within her? How do you know she's not lying?"

Oh yeah, that's when she remembered that Max and Gary never knew eachother before, the line between being with her and being with him being to blurry that maybe a fantasy of them being all friends slipped through as a wannabe memory, he doesn't trust her like she does. Leaning away from the wall she took a step in his way, her expression a mix of frustration and confusion, not sure whether to be angry at him for doubting her best friend's word or to be angry at herself for knowing that she didn't fully believe in her fully.

"She wouldn't lie, she's my friend---"

"What am i then? What is Jimmy? Are we just people you can use to your advantage? Because if you know us, or at least me for that matter, you would know well i'm not happy being on the recieving end of those kind of situations, Price."

"Gary-" she couldn't finish before her mom came out of the room, empty cup in hand, she exchanged a look with both of them before nodding and going down the stairs to the first floor. Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose before laying again on the wall, all of this was a headache, a big fucking fatass headache she was dealing with.

Hour-long seconds passed before the blonde girl bitterly attempted to make conversation again, they were too different from one another but so painfully similar at the same time, which ironically made them act even worse than how they were when they were kids.

"You need to understand that what we're doing is bigger than any of us, and you're part of it too, no matter what happened in the process of you coming here, we all help eachother, Gary, no matter how little or how big."

She felt like the bigger person for a moment, and factually, she was, her being born in march and him in november, but it always felt the other way, she was way more broken about thing that were significantly less worse than what he went through at the same age, but that was just her mind, doing it's daily throw ups of senseless words, maybe she was belittleing herself too much but thats what she always did when she was around anybody, her mom, him, Rachel...that's what made people leave her, if you don't love yourself nobody is going to do it either, a cycle that never ends.

Gary's tongue clicked inside his mouth before throwing words formed of venom, not caring of who sucked it in. "I help because of a truce, i have no intentions of being all best friends with you and the other two morons you have on your side."

Chloe wanted to cry, this wasn't the boy she once knew, the one who she shared memories with, whom she had helped with his illness(mental illness) and viceversa, the dumb bowlcutted scrawny unintentionally funny boy she once knew wasn't there anymore, after that one manic episode he had just three years ago, he just stopped trusting her, and it hurt her, it hurt her because she didn't know why, maybe she did something wrong that she didn't adknowlege in time? Or maybe they weren't ever meant to be in the same place from the very beginning, if thats the reason, why is he here now?

#bully scholarship edition #bully canis canem edit #bully cce #gary smith #life is strange #max caulfield #chloe price #crossover

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foreverisntenough · 17 days ago

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‘Movie Night’

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 23 - 'Flowers and Fixing' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.3 k

When you stepped back into the house, the weight of everything you’d just done with Trent came crashing down on you. You barely got the door shut before your knees gave way. Jack turned around from the couch, his face lighting up with a sympathetic smile, ready to console you after what he thought would have been a long night of sorting things out. But when his eyes met yours, his expression changed instantly. You broke into sobs, your body trembling, unable to hold yourself up any longer. The sound of your heartbreak filled the room as you fell to the floor, and Jack sprang up, rushing to you. His strong arms caught you just before you hit the ground, pulling you tightly against him.

“Nah, nah, nah. What happened, Y/N?” he whispered, his voice laced with confusion and worry. His hands cradled your head, smoothing your hair as your sobs wracked your body. He held you as if he could physically keep you from falling apart. You couldn’t find the words immediately, choking on your tears as you buried your face in his shoulder. Jack waited patiently, his arms never leaving you, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe, yeah?” But it wasn’t okay. Nothing felt okay.

“Jack…” Your voice broke, and your words came out in pieces between your sobs. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore.” Jack pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you mean? What happened?” He was trying to piece together why you were in such hysterics. He’d left you with Trent, thinking the two of you would reconcile, work through whatever tension had built. Instead, you were here, utterly shattered.

“I tried… I tried to make him…” You paused, struggling to get the words out. “I tried to make him treat me like Josh did.” The confession hung heavy in the air, and Jack froze, his heart breaking for you.

“Y/N…” he started softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but you interrupted him, your tears streaming even harder.

“He tried to love me the way I needed, but I didn’t know how to let him.” You shook your head violently, the weight of the truth crushing you. “I tried to force him into something he’s not, and it hurt him. It hurt me.” Jack’s grip on you tightened, his own emotions threatening to spill over. Jack didn’t totally understand what happened but he knew Trent was nothing like Josh.

“He’s not Josh,” he said firmly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “And that’s the whole point, Y/N. He loves you. He’s never going to treat you like that because he can’t. He’s not wired that way. And thank God for that.” You nodded weakly, but the guilt still consumed you.

“I ruined it, Jack. I’ve ruined everything. I can’t do this—I don’t know how to do this.” Jack cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him through your tears.

“Listen to me. You didn’t ruin anything, okay? You’re hurting, and you’re scared, and you’re still trying to unlearn what he did to you. But Trent—he’s not going anywhere. He loves you, and you love him. That’s all that matters.” His words broke something inside you, and you sobbed harder, your hands gripping his shirt as if it were the only thing tethering you to the ground. Jack held you tighter, rocking you slightly, his own tears threatening to fall as he whispered, “You’re going to get through this, Y/N. I promise you. You’re not alone. Not with me, not with Trent. We’re here, and we’re going to help you heal.” You cried into his shoulder, the weight of his words slowly settling into your heart but not enough to heal it.

“He has a video…” you sobbed unrelatedly, your voice trembling with panic as you tried to explain it all to Jack. Each word came out fragmented, as if saying it aloud made it all the more real. “Josh has it… I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared, Jack.” Your chest heaved as the sobs overtook you, and your breathing became uneven, shallow. Jack’s face darkened, but his voice remained soft.

“I know,” he whispered, his hands running up and down your back in a futile attempt to comfort you. “I know, Y/N. T told me.” He hushed you. He didn’t love that existed but he in no way was faulting you for the way Josh was acting and in no way wanted you to feel like this. You gasped, unable to compose yourself, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of everything crashed down on you again.

“I don’t want to do this,” you cried, clutching at his shirt like a lifeline. “I’m hurting everyone. I’m hurting him, I’m hurting you—I can’t stop it.” You weakly whined.

“You’re not hurting us,” Jack soothed, but his words couldn’t break through the tidal wave of guilt pulling you under.

“I can’t have him, Jack,” you choked out, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. “And I’m hurting him anyway. He doesn’t deserve this. I can’t do this to him.” Jack’s heart broke watching you crumble.

“You didn’t hurt him, Y/N. You’re not the one doing this—Josh is. And Trent? He wants you. You can have him. Please don’t push him away because of what that asshole is doing to you.” His voice cracked slightly, his own emotions bubbling to the surface. He’d never seen you like this. After your mum passed you got notably less emotive. When you did crack, you cracked but this was like nothing he’d ever seen. Your whole body shook. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he tried to ground you. But your mind wouldn’t stop spiraling.

“You said it yourself,” you whimpered, your voice so small, so broken. “I’m just someone Trent is taking advantage of.” You explained sort of unfairly but you weren’t thinking straight. You were twisting words in an effort to convince yourself or maybe hurt yourself. Nothing made sense. Jack’s eyes widened in shock.

“What? No, I didn’t—” He tried to defend himself, not for his own sake, but to get you to understand that wasn’t what he said. He initially had said the word trying to protect you. He didn’t think Trent actually had and even less so now in light of everything.

“It’s all the same!” you cried, cutting him off. Your voice broke as you continued, your words drenched in anguish. “Josh, Trent… I thought he was different, but when I gave him the opportunity, he did the same thing, maybe I’m just fooling myself. Maybe he’s just using me like Josh did, and I’m too stupid to see it. So fucking stupid. And I let him touch me. He’s going to be just like him.” You cried. Jack felt like he was trying to play catch up. Your thoughts were moving so fast and they were so intense he could barely follow but he knew two things for certain; Trent was not Josh and Trent loved you, something Josh never did.

“That’s not true,” Jack said firmly, his hands still holding your face as he forced you to look at him. “You know that’s not true. Trent loves you, Y/N. You’re not just someone he’s passing the time with, or someone he’s using. He would never do that to you.” He explained.

“But Josh…” you started, your voice trembling.

“Josh is a piece of fucking shit!” Jack snapped, his voice louder than he intended, but he softened immediately when you flinched. “Josh is nothing like Trent. And you know that. You’re scared, and I get it, but don’t let that bastard ruin this for you. Don’t let him ruin you.”

“I can’t… I can’t let him have that video,” you whispered, shaking your head as fresh tears streamed down your cheeks. “He’ll use it. He’ll use it against Trent, and I can’t let that happen to him. I won’t let that happen to him. It’s all my fault.” You attempted to take a deep breath to try to fill your lungs but it was dry. It did nothing to relieve the pounding in your head. Jack’s jaw clenched, his protective instincts flaring.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised, his voice resolute. “You’re not in this alone. We’ll figure out how to deal with Josh, but you can’t push Trent away because of him. You love him, Y/N. Don’t punish yourself for that.” Your shoulders shook as you broke down again, the weight of Jack’s words both comforting and overwhelming.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” you whispered.Jack pulled you into his arms again, holding you as tightly as he could without hurting you.

“You don’t have to fix it alone,” he said softly. “You don’t have to do anything alone anymore.” He shut his eyes tight, trying to fight back tears. He so often spoke to your dad filling him in on how you and he were doing. That he had handled finding that doctor for you, that flight ticket you needed, bought you dinner, drove you home, and yet… none of it mattered, it wasn’t enough. How had he missed this. You were in so much pain. He thought he was taking care of you all this time but in reality you were being dismantled. You were hurting. His heart was in pieces, his stomach in bits, he couldn’t believe just how hurt you really were. "Y/N…” He gently spoke. “What happened tonight? I don't understand," Jack said softly, though his voice carried the weight of his concern. His body tense as he watched you unravel in front of him. Your shoulders shook with sobs, your face buried in your hands as though you were trying to shield yourself from the world-or from him. You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face trembling with emotion.

"Jack... please, just listen, okay…." you whispered, the words cracking under the weight of your sorrow. "I know you don't want to hear this. I didn't want to... I didn't want to do it. I don't even know how it happened." The lump in your throat making the words nearly impossible to get out. Jack frowned, leaning closer as if that could somehow bring you back to him, back to a place where you could breathe.

"I’m not going to be mad, alright…” He sighed feeling guilty for treating you so harshly when this all first kicked off, not knowing how brutal it all had been, how fragile you were. He wasn’t going to get mad anymore, he just wanted to help his little sister. "Tell me," he urged gently. "Whatever it is, you’re okay. I’m here." You shook your head, the words trapped in your throat. When you finally forced them out, they came in a rush, messy and jagged.

"I was crying... and then it just happened. I didn't stop it, I begged. I don't know how to stop it anymore," you admitted, your hands trembling in your lap. "It's like... it's like I don't even know how to feel anything without pushing it all down. And we had sex, Jack. We had sex, and it felt wrong, and it felt... right at the same time, but I wasn't there. It was so cold. I wasn't with him. I was just-" Your voice broke, and you covered your face again, your shoulders heaving with each sob. You remember feeling like you were not in that bed. Feeling like you were sitting in the corner watching yourself get defiled. You couldn’t feel his hands on you no matter how bad you wanted to. Not the hands you knew at least. It was like all you could feel was the hurt you were creating. Your body moving off instinct and panic fighting to survive. His skin was against yours but it wasn’t close enough. You couldn’t feel his warmth because you had turned off completely. It was harrowing and you had forced his hand. Jack stayed quiet for a moment, his face unreadable as he tried to process your words. "I'm sorry," you whispered, choking on the apology. "I shouldn't... I shouldn't even be telling you this. I just... I don't know how to fix me." You whimpered feeling a million things at once, one of them right now; embarrassment. You felt like a broken doll. You felt like you had hoodwinked Trent into liking this character, this girl next door, who he flirted with at his best mate’s movie nights and yet now, when he got you alone, when he got to love you, got to see you, there was this terrible broken marionette in place of that once cheery girl.

"Y/N," Jack interrupted softly but firmly. He shifted slightly so there was some distance between you, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together as though trying to steady himself. "Please. Don't stop. Just tell me. I need to understand." You let out a shaky breath, your eyes darting away from his.

"It was just so automatic," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "The way I was with Josh. I don't even think about it anymore—it just happens. And Trent..." You hesitated, your voice cracking again. "He's so good, Jack. He's so good, and I just-" You couldn’t get the words out.

"You what?" Jack pressed, his tone gentle but insistent.

"I pushed him away," you confessed, your voice trembling with guilt. "I pushed him away emotionally, and then I pushed him to do something he didn’t want to do... I tried to fix it with sex. I treated it like a transaction. I forced him to do it. I can't imagine it's anything different. That I'm anything different because he did it. Am I just someone he has the upper hand with? Is this all just some huge mistake?" You muttered, getting confused by your own thoughts. Jack's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. "And now," you continued, your voice growing more frantic, "I've hurt him. I've hurt everyone, and I'm making it worse. I'm making it worse, and-" You gasped for air, your tears choking you as you clutched at your chest. "And Josh wouldn't even have that video if it weren't for me!"

"Y/N, stop!" Jack's voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp but filled with anguish. You froze, your eyes wide as you looked at him, your breath hitching in your throat. Jack leaned forward, his voice dropping to a softer, more pleading tone. "Y/N, it's not the same. Do you hear me? It's not the same." He reached for your hands, gripping them tightly as he looked you dead in the eyes. "He loves you. Trent loves you. You are not just some object to him. You're not just some... thing he has control over. You're so much more than that to him, Y/N. You have to trust him. Please, just trust him."

"But what if-" You shook your head, the tears spilling down your face.

"No," Jack interrupted firmly. "Listen to me." His voice cracked, his own emotions bubbling to the surface as he tried to reach you. "I get it, okay? I don’t totally understand why you feel like this because it breaks my heart that you do but I get why you think you have to do this. We have to get you out of this cycle, Y/N. You’re good. You need to know you’re good. But you can't keep acting like this with him. This has to go both ways. If you don't want him to take advantage of you, then don't give yourself away like that." Your tears fell harder, your sobs filling the room as Jack's words hit you like a wave. "You're not an object, Y/N," he continued, his voice breaking as he tightened his grip on your hands. "Not to him, not to Josh, not to anyone. You're more than that. You don't have to trade your body for love or forgiveness or anything else. I know that’s easy for me to just say but seriously…” He sighed, his heart hurting so much he needed a moment. “Trent doesn't want that from you. He just wants you. All of you. The real you. The messy, scared, broken you. That's all he's asking for. But you've gotta give him the chance to love you without you pushing him away or trying to control everything.” You collapsed into him, your body shaking as your sobs wracked through you. “You don’t deserve to be hurting like this.” He muttered more so to himself but you heard it. “He loves you, I love you, Dad loves you, Layla loves you, Noah loves you, Meg does… I could go on. Please, you’re so loved and for none of the reasons you think. We love Y/N, just as she is. I’ll do everything I can to get you to love her too." Jack wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as though he could somehow piece you back together with the strength of his embrace. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his chin to the top of your head. "It's okay, Y/N. We'll figure this out. You're not alone in this. I promise." The room fell quiet except for the sound of your breathing, slowly steadying as Jack held you. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe him. Just for a moment, you let yourself believe that you could find your way out of the darkness-with Trent, with Jack, with the people who loved you.

The door creaked open a few days, and Jack stood there, looking at Trent with a mix of uncertainty and hesitation. He hadn’t shaved, his shirt wrinkled, like he hadn’t slept. He held the door slightly ajar, not quite inviting Trent in yet.

“Hey, bro. Thanks for coming over,” Jack said quietly, his voice lacking its usual confidence. Trent stood on the porch, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes carried a weight Jack had never seen before. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“She alright?” Trent asked, though he already knew the answer. When you left Trent’s house that morning he felt a hollowness he didn’t even know was possible. He knew what you were doing was self destructive, that you were hurting yourself but he let you go, that’s what you wanted, he’d always do what you wanted. Jack let out a slow, shaky sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Mate… I don’t even know what to say. She’s…” He trailed off, searching for the right words but coming up short.

“She’s hurting,” Trent said, filling in the blank with a quiet certainty that made Jack pause. Jack nodded, stepping aside and holding the door open wider.

“Yeah. She’s upstairs. But…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure she wants to see you. She’s saying all this stuff—how she’s ruining everything, how she’s hurting everyone. It’s like she’s convinced herself she’s nothing.” Jack explained with a blank stare. He listened to you sob on the floor the other day and he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. He felt so naive that he didn’t know you felt this way. A part of it was circumstantial, the video and such, but the majority of it was deeply rooted emotional issues. Trent’s jaw tightened, and he nodded as if to steel himself.

“I need to see her. I’m going to fix it.” Trent explained, fairly dead pan. It wasn’t so much confidence as it was determination. Jack gave him a skeptical look, folding his arms across his chest.

“Look, T. I don’t know if you can fix it. She’s… she’s messed up right now. And you two—whatever it is you’ve got going on—it’s complicated, yeah?” He gave Trent a wry smile. Jack didn’t want to hurt you anymore or throw fuel on the fire but he was drawing a blank at what to do. Still, he was hesitant to let Trent up to your room, despite inviting him over. In theory it felt like a good idea. Jack hadn’t left the house since you came home, neither had you but you also hadn’t left your bed either. He’d seen only you for days and you were so broken and weak. It was only now seeing Trent did it register, did he become aware of even the simplest of the power dynamics you were facing. He never thought much about it, til this moment. He had watched you almost deteriorate in a matter of days. You were so fragile, almost beyond repair and in walks a strong, nourished athlete… It felt scary. Like if Trent even got close he might break you. He didn’t want to inflict that on you. But Trent’s gaze didn’t waver.

“She’s the love of my life, Jack. Complicated or not, I’m not giving up on her. I don’t want her to feel like this anymore.” He reassured your brother. Jack blinked, taken aback by the raw honesty in Trent’s voice. He studied his friend for a moment, then sighed, stepping fully aside to let him in.

“Alright. But just… be patient with her, yeah? She’s… She’s fragile, mate.” Jack told Trent. It was a soft warning but he meant it. There was a change in Jack’s demeanor that he immediately identified. He’d seen it many times. Jack would tease you relentlessly, push you in the pool, steal food off your plate, put you in a headlock; he treated you like he was your big brother. But there were times, not often but they’d happen, where Jack treated you like he was your big brother in a completely different way. He was soft spoken, gentle, aware, he’d buy you flowers when you were sick, he’d pick you up when you needed a ride, he’d give you a cuddle when you needed one. There was a softness that not many people saw in Jack that he reserved solely for you. To a degree, Trent understood it. He was a big brother too after all but there was a gentleness that needed to be present with a little sister that he’d never experience. Jack was cautious with word choices, knowing you’d cling to every word. His hugs were never aggressive or fast, he’d hold you until the tears stopped. There were elements of your relationship that were just more sensitive than anything. You and Jack didn’t forgive and forget, you had to fix and maintain. Trent wanted to protect you just the same as Jack did but the love he felt for you would always be slightly different. Something he had to learn overtime. Growing up maybe some might’ve been able to perceive the way Trent treated you to be like that of a little sister for a bit, you were forcibly close because of Jack’s friendship with him, neither of you ever complaining, but there was a clear turning point for Trent. A period in time where a young boy had to distance himself from you because it became abundantly clear he had a different type of feeling for you then he did about anyone else. He liked you. In fact, he loved you. While everyone had to wait for moments at school to see their juvenile crush, you were omnipresent in his life. He didn’t know it was happening but it made him like you more than the other girls. He got every angle of you. He got to see you completely raw. A way that only Jack got to see but Trent had been there under that roof too. There was just something vulnerable about you you needed to protect.

Trent remembered going to your mum’s funeral. It was the first funeral he’d ever gone to. He didn’t know what to expect. He’d lost someone too. Someone who drove him home from footie, made him special pasta because he didn’t like the one everyone else was having, got him birthday cards and presents each year, a mum he didn’t even know he had.

He and Jack spent almost every day together but there weren’t many opportunities to talk about the way they felt, their emotions. Trent could see Jack begin to struggle though as your mum's condition began to worsen. Innocently, he never really imagined that you could actually lose her though. Not then. Even you and Jack, no matter how many counselors or conversations were had, you were not prepared. Maybe subconsciously, Trent saw it best fit to be the release in Jack’s life. Be the person he got to laugh with, be stupid with, run around, play games. It was the only thing he could contribute and he did it well. But at your mum’s funeral, it was the first time he saw Jack in a gentler light. Jack was never mean to you but teasing occurred and complaints were made but he’d never really registered what Jack was to you, and you to him until you lost your mum. You walked in and you both looked stoic. Shells of yourself, his eyes narrowed on your figures trying to recognize two people he knew so well. The service began and from behind, he watched as your body began to shake. You began to slip, overtaken by emotion. He watched Jack reach to you and hold your hand. It was soft and secure. He'd never seen Jack move so gently. Things only got worse from there. As the day progressed, he saw you sob hysterically into Jack’s chest in the corridor. It was an image seared into his brain forever because as he heard you crying, he also watched silent tears coursing down his best friend's cheeks. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t change things. It changed your entire life, altered the way you and Jack interacted with people forever, the dynamic between you all but it also made a massive impact on how Trent viewed you and Jack. What it felt like when Dianne had to make your birthday cake now or when he and Jack were in school and told to write Mother's Day cards. It shook him. He felt like he never wanted you and Jack to ever have to lose anything else because this one loss had already been too much. It shattered your family.

Jack was worried. Subconsciously, he worried that Trent wouldn’t know how to handle you in a state like this. How to handle his little sister. Trent didn’t have a sister, how would he know? He sighed though because of everyone in your lives, all the friends, and family, Trent was the only other person who truly understood that there was more to you; the layers you so neatly hide, how truly sensitive and fragile you could get. Trent’s focus was already shifting to the stairs.

“I know, Jack. I’m careful with her. But I’m not letting her keep pushing me away. It’s not what’s best, It’s not what’s going to help her.” He explained.

“Alright, then we’re on the same page,” Jack muttered, his voice low but firm. His eyes met Trent’s, and for a moment, they stood there in tense silence. Jack could see the desperation etched into Trent’s face—the fear, the guilt, the love—but it didn’t soften the protective instincts rising in his chest. “Mate, I need her to be okay,” Jack began, his voice shaking slightly but resolute. “You… you can’t fuck this up, yeah?” He pleaded.

“I know,” Trent said immediately, his voice steady. “I won’t.” Jack clenched his jaw, his arms crossing tightly over his chest.

“Nah, listen to me. This isn’t like before. I mean this. You cannot hurt her, bro. I’m fucking serious. I would never forgive you. I mean it—I’d kill you if you made her worse.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying the emotion he was trying to contain. Trent’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Jack, I get it. I know this has been hard on you, but… I’m here. I’ve always been here. I’ve taken care of her before, and I’m not stopping now. I just want her to stop hurting. I just want the tears to stop.” Trent spoke. Jack’s jaw tightened, his protective anger clashing with the sincerity in Trent’s voice.

“You gotta swear to me, Trent. On your life. You’re going to take care of her, properly. No more bullshit. No more pushing and pulling. You’re either all in or you leave her alone. She needs help mate and I’m not letting her get worse than it already is.” Jack looked desperate. He was threatening but it wasn’t coming from a place of anger, at least not anger towards Trent or you. Jack was just hurting and angry you were in the state you were in and he was praying Trent was just the same.

“I’m all in,” Trent said without hesitation. His voice was soft but sure, his eyes unwavering. “I swear, Jack. She’ll be safe with me. I’ll protect her with everything I have. I promise you that.” Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hands twitching at his sides. For a moment, he just stared at Trent, searching for any crack in his resolve, any hesitation. But he found none. Finally, Jack let out a slow breath and nodded.

“Just… please,” Jack whispered, his voice raw. “Please don’t let her fall apart any more than she already has.” Trent had rarely seen the type of sheer fear in Jack’s eyes.

“I’ve got it, mate,” He said softly. “I swear. I’ve got it.” Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, the tension broke. The two boys who had grown up side by side but had rarely shared words this honest embraced. It was quick but full of unspoken understanding. “I’ve got it, bro,” Trent repeated, stepping back and looking Jack in the eye. Jack swallowed hard and nodded. Trent nodded back, his throat tight, and turned toward the staircase. Each step felt heavy, the weight of what he was about to face pressing on him. Jack watched him ascend, his heart aching as he silently prayed Trent would be what you needed, his chest tightening. As much as he wanted to protect you, he could see that Trent wasn’t just another person in your life. He was someone who was willing to fight for you, even when you couldn’t fight for yourself.

“T… hi…” you whimpered, your voice small and shaky as Trent stepped into your room. You weren’t expecting to see him, at least not in your room. Your heart began to pound. You were supposed to go to Megan’s birthday party tonight. You’d gotten dressed but you weren’t really sure if you were going to be able to make it out the door. Layla and Jack had convinced you it’d be good to get out of the house. No pressure, but they just wanted you to come. It was a fairly relaxed party but nothing about it felt that way. The sight of Trent sent a fresh wave of emotion surging through you, undoing the fragile composure you’d barely managed to maintain so far today. You sniffled, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the skirt you were in as you perched on the bed. It was a part of a set, paired with a little matching bra top from Sau Lee. You liked it when you bought it but now it felt too tight, the sequined fabric itched against your skin, none of it was right. The mirror in front of you reflected someone who looked put together, but inside you were crumbling. Megan’s small party at a restaurant was supposed to be a distraction—but you weren’t sure you could face Trent there tonight. You weren’t sure you could face him here, either. Fully dressed, you suddenly felt completely bare.

“Hi, my pretty girl,” Trent greeted softly, his voice laced with tenderness. His smile was gentle but sympathetic as he crossed the room to you. “You look so beautiful.” You sniffled again, your lips trembling as you tried to fight back the tears threatening to spill over.

“You still think so?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“Most beautiful girl in the world,” he murmured, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You tilted your head up to look at him, your watery eyes meeting his. The hurt behind his deep brown gaze was unmistakable, and it made your chest tighten painfully. The tears you’d worked so hard to stop came spilling over, and your face crumpled as you broke down. “Ah, come on… don’t cry, baby. Please. C’mere,” he whispered, his own heart breaking as he watched you fall apart again. Without hesitation, he sank onto the edge of the bed and gently tugged you into his lap. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you buried your face into his shoulder, your body shaking with silent sobs. He held you close, his large hands running soothingly up and down your back. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccuped against his shoulder, your voice muffled.

“For what, baby?” he asked softly, his tone full of concern as he shifted slightly to hold you even closer.

“For everything. For being like this… for messing everything up,” you cried, pulling back just enough to look at him through tear-filled eyes.

“Hey, hey. Stop that,” he said gently, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “You haven’t messed anything up. I promise. You’re just… you’re going through it right now, and I get that. But you’re not alone, yeah? I’m here.” You shook your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t have to be.” You whined. Trent’s jaw tightened, and he cradled your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t do that. Don’t push me away because you think it’s what’s best for me. What’s best for me is being here with you. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. Don’t you understand that?” The intensity of his words made your breath hitch, and you stared at him, your heart aching with a mix of love and guilt.

“I’m so broken,” you whispered.

“You’re not.” He cooed softly, completely disagreeing with you. You muttered a barely audible "I am’ and he sighed. “Then let me help you put the pieces back together,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” His words wrapped around your heart like a balm, and you collapsed into his chest again, your arms tightening around him. He held you close, rocking you gently as you cried. “Y/N…” His voice broke, and the sound of it shattered something inside you. “I didn’t mean—God, I didn’t mean for things to happen the way they did the other night. I’d never… I wasn’t—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand over his hair. He needed to try to tell you he didn’t like the sex you two had without saying that he didn’t like the sex, because he did… but he didn’t. It was bigger than that. “I just want to do this the right way, to make sure you feel safe with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” You pressed your lips together, guilt clawing at you as his words sank in.

“I know,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. I pushed you.” you sniffled. You felt so guilty. You didn’t want to hurt him when all he’d ever done, not even just since you’d gotten together, no, your entire life, was be good to you. You’d spoken about it a number of times with Jack and Layla since that night; varying degrees of how much intimate details were included of course. Jack was being supportive but you didn’t want to scar him. Nevertheless, you agreed that Trent was nothing like Josh. He couldn’t have been further from it because Trent didn’t shy away from you. He didn’t shut you out, he didn’t shut you up, he just was there for you, every time, just like he was right now. But the hurt in his eyes was almost too much to bear. You didn’t know how to be there for him when you were the one hurting him.

“Then why would you say that, baby? Why do you try to push me away?” His voice was hoarse, the pain evident in every syllable. He just wanted to understand. Was right now ahead of potentially going to a party the best idea? No, but it had to happen. He wasn’t doing this anymore, any longer.

“I’m scared,” you finally confessed, the tears breaking free. “I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared of Josh. I’m scared of ruining this. And I don’t know how to fix it. I just…” You trailed off, your hands trembling as you tried to wipe away your tears. Trent’s expression softened instantly, and he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“Hey,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. “You don’t have to fix it. We’ll figure it out together, yeah? But don’t push me away. Please.” You nodded against him, your tears soaking into his shirt as his words began to soothe the storm inside you. “I love you, Y/N,” Trent whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.” The room was silent except for your uneven breaths for a moment.

“But what if he—” you started, but Trent cut you off, his hands gripping you gently but firmly.

“No,” he said, his voice resolute. “Josh doesn’t get to control you. He doesn’t get to scare you, or hurt you, or take anything from you ever again. I won’t let him. You’re safe with me, baby. Always.” You wanted to believe him, but the weight of your past made it hard. Still, the way he looked at you—with so much love, so much determination—made you feel like it was hard to accept the fact that you felt like your own determination to be loved wasn’t as strong as his desire to love you. It made you hate yourself.

“I don’t think I know how to let you love me without losing myself, giving myself up to you,” you admitted, your voice cracking just as you feared it would. “I don’t know how to be lovable, to be loved by you.” Trent closed his eyes briefly, as though steadying himself. When he opened them again, they were glistening, his emotions barely restrained. He shifted slightly, wrapping you in his arms more securely, cradling you against his chest.

“Baby,” he murmured into your hair, kissing the top of your head softly. “You don’t have to know how. Let me do it for you. I’ve loved you for so long and that’s never going to change. I’m going to keep loving you, no matter what, please just try to let me. I’ll be here, loving you, however long it takes. I’ll show you, over and over again, that you’re safe with me.” His words broke you completely. You clung to him, sobbing into his chest, your tears soaking his skin. He didn’t mind. He held you tighter, his hands stroking your back, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

“I love you,” you choked out between sobs, the words raw and honest, filled with the fear and hope you carried.

“I love you so much.” Trent’s arms tightened around you, his voice trembling as he whispered. Despite the broken pieces still scattered inside you, his love felt like the glue trying to piece you back together. But then, in swift succession, like an old habit you’d never be able to kick, you leaned up to kiss him. Your lips met his magnetically. You felt your whole body relaxed feeling his perfect plump lips against yours but the moment of bliss was cut short because as you relaxed more you felt Trent’s body tense. You were doing it again. You were pushing him. Yes, you had just reconfirmed you loved each other but you were still crying, weak, broken, and he didn’t want to push it, not like this, not yet. You could feel him grapple with the kiss. The realization hit you like a tidal wave, and you broke away from the kiss, your breath coming in short gasps.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, pulling back. Trent shook his head immediately, his hands cupping your face.

“No, don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby. You just… You don’t have to give me anything to make me stay. I’m already here. I’m not going anywhere.” His words sent a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face, and you collapsed against his chest, sobbing. Trent wrapped his arms around you, holding you as tightly as he could without hurting you. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered, his lips pressing against your hair. “Together. You don’t have to hurt anymore. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be perfect or have it all figured out,” he murmured, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I just want you to let me love you the way you deserve. That’s all.” He told you earnestly. The sincerity in his words broke something inside you. His gaze searched your face. You looked back at him watching hope poole in his mahogany eyes..

“Why do you love me like this,” you whispered, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t understand.” You genuinely couldn’t comprehend why he loved you. You were very aware of all the things that made Trent a good partner, an attractive partner, the things that made him a person someone would want to be with. You though? It didn’t make sense. So often you felt overlooked, glanced over, never enough and yet Trent was steadfast, adamant that he loved you, that you were more than enough.

“I will make you understand,” Trent said firmly, his hand coming up to cradle your face once more. “ I love you that much, yeah?” You nodded hesitantly, leaning into his touch as the distance between you finally began to close. Not the physical one, the emotional chasm that Josh had wedged. He held you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, you felt it—the tiniest glimmer of hope that maybe you could tear down the walls and build something new.

"Thank you," your voice cracking. Tears welled in your eyes, his heart ached at the sound and sight of your pain.

"We just can't fix it like that," he said gently. "But we can figure it out, baby. Together. I just need you to trust me." The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't empty. It was filled with all the things neither of you could say yet, the unspoken promises and the lingering wounds that would take time to heal.

“I do. I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Your voice cracked under the weight of your confession, your chest heaving as tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. Trent’s face fell, his expression a mixture of heartbreak and understanding.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing, is wrong with you.” He cooed. You blinked away your tears looking back at him, his face steady and grounding even as your world felt like it was spinning. “Come here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Your face pressed into his chest, and the faint, familiar scent of him—comfort and warmth—washed over you. It was enough to break whatever fragile dam you’d been holding together, but not in the way you thought. He broke it to repair it. Trent was so willing to fix this, fix you. The tears came fast, hot and heavy, soaking into the fabric of his shirt as your body shook against his.

“I don’t know how to be enough for you when I feel so broken.” You whimpered, your voice muffled against his chest Trent’s grip tightened, his hand stroking the back of your head gently.

“You don’t have to know, baby. You don’t have to do a thing,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to your turmoil. His words made you cry harder, and he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering as if trying to physically seal his promises into you. “I hate that I can’t take away things that have happened to you, I wish I could but I love you just as you.” You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your face streaked with tears. He looked at you and paused. You looked like a little girl and his heart hurt seeing the face of the girl he grew up with staring back at him, imagining telling that little girl all the things that would unfold and happen to her, he hated how awful all of them were. It was an ache in his chest he didn’t know what to do with. His own eyes glistened with unshed tears as he stared back at you, his gaze soft and full of love.

“And you’re sure?” you asked, your voice trembling. He reached up, his thumb gently brushing away a tear from your cheek. He sympathetically smiled but it was broken.

“I could not be more sure. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. You are the most important thing in my life. You’ve been in every part of it. And I don’t want any bit of my life, not to have your imprint.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are it for me, pretty girl. It’s always been you, and it always will be. I don’t care how hard it gets, I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.” His words hit you like a tidal wave, and you collapsed back into his arms, clinging to him like a lifeline. He held you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head as he swayed slightly, the two of you finding some kind of rhythm amidst the chaos.

“I love you,” You whimpered. He closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek as he kissed your hair again. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, the world outside fading into nothingness as you found a moment of solace in each other’s arms. It wasn’t perfect, and it didn’t fix everything, but it was enough for now. Enough to remind you that even in your brokenness, you were still worthy of being loved. And that Trent was willing to fight for you, even when you weren’t sure how to fight for yourself.

“So, so beautiful. You know that?” Trent cooed, his deep voice warm and tender as he studied you. His hand brushed softly against your cheek, his thumb wiping away the remnants of tears. You managed a weak smile, but the fear still gripped you tightly. He noticed it—of course, he did.

“Can you wait right here for me?” he asked gently, his tone careful not to startle you. “I want to get you something quick.” The moment he shifted, the fear flared up in your chest. You couldn’t stop it. Despite everything he’d said, despite all the ways he’d tried to reassure you, you were terrified. Terrified that if he left, he wouldn’t come back. That this fragile connection between you would shatter. You didn’t trust your voice, so you only nodded, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you watched him move you to sit on the bed and walk out of the room. The silence that followed felt endless, like each passing second was stretching out into infinity. You wrapped your arms around yourself, squeezing tightly as if that alone could keep you from unraveling completely. And then, after what felt like forever—but was barely five minutes—you heard the soft sound of his footsteps approaching. When Trent stepped back into the doorway, your breath caught. He looked so perfect, so steady. The very sight of him brought a rush of relief so overwhelming that the tears you’d been holding back spilled over once again. He stood there for a moment, smiling softly, a bouquet of pink peonies cradled in one arm and a small shopping bag in his hand.

“No more tears with me, hmm?” he said as he walked towards you, his voice low and soothing. He held out the bouquet, the delicate flowers an explosion of soft color. “These are for you,” he murmured, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he crouched in front of you. You sniffled, reaching out with trembling hands to take them. The petals were soft beneath your fingertips, and the sweet, subtle scent filled the space between you.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you pouted, your voice barely above a whisper. Trent’s expression softened even further, his eyes searching yours as he set the shopping bag aside. He cupped your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your skin like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

“Because you deserve to be treated nicely,” he said simply, his tone so earnest it broke something in you. “I gotcha, baby. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.” His words, so sure and so full of love, pulled a small, shaky nod from you. Your lips parted, but the only sound that came out was a quiet, trembling ‘okay.’ He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “That’s my girl,” he whispered against your skin.

Trent sat on the bed beside you, his posture casual but his gaze intense. One leg was propped up on the duvet, his knee bent, bringing him closer to you. He reached out, his fingers slipping under the delicate strap of your muted yellow bra top, tracing the fabric lightly against your skin.

“Look so good in this,” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with meaning.

“You like it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to ground yourself. The outfit you had painstakingly chosen for hours suddenly felt like an afterthought, all but forgotten the second you saw him tonight. He hummed appreciatively, his warm eyes never leaving yours.

“So, so much.” For the first time that night, you allowed a shy smile to play at your lips, but it quickly turned into a curious glance at the Dior shopping bag still sitting now at his feet. “Did you know what bag you were going to wear tonight, though?” He asked you with a bit of a tease, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. You blinked at him, your cheeks heating up. Yes, of course, you had a bag picked out—it had been part of the outfit planning you’d obsessed over. But the bag he brought in suggested he had something else in mind.

“I did,” you admitted with a little giggle, “But… Do you have something else in mind?” You asked already starting to feel different, hopeful maybe. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower.

“I do. Want to open this for me?” He asked handing you the bag. The tears that had stained your cheeks moments earlier now felt distant as a giddy warmth spread through you. You wiped away the last remnants of them, nodding eagerly as you reached for the bag. Inside was a box, you opened it tucked in a dust bag was a pristine Mini Lady Dior bag, unlike anything you’d ever seen. It was white satin, embroidered with a dazzling multicolored floral beaded pattern. The intricate details shimmered in the light, catching your breath. But what caught your eye immediately was a single butterfly, its delicate wings stitched among the floral embroidery as if it had landed there by chance.

“T…” you whined, your voice cracking as your eyes welled with fresh tears.

“Like it?” he chuckled, his fingers brushing gently over the butterfly, tracing the intricate design before turning his gaze back to you.

“I love it,” you whimpered, holding the bag like it was the most precious thing in the world. Your voice trembled as you added, “I love you.” Tears spilled over again, but they were different this time—happy tears, overwhelmed tears. “Thank you,” you whispered, clutching the bag to your chest. Trent smiled softly, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

“Anything and everything for you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Always.” In that moment, the chaos of the past few days faded just a little. Trent wasn’t just a person who gave you gifts or reassured you with words—he was someone who saw you, who understood you deeply. And as his forehead pressed gently against yours, the world outside your room felt miles away.

The car ride stretched on as Jack furiously tapped away on his phone, muttering under his breath about potentially adding a stop. He hit directions on the map, his phone chirping directions, and you couldn’t help but grin at his reluctance, knowing full well he was looking for a florist because of you.

“Y/N,” Jack began, his voice exasperated but laced with a begrudging fondness, “I already got her flowers on her actual birthday. Why are you making such a big deal?” He quipped. You leaned forward slightly from your seat in the back, your expression soft but firm.

“Because, Jack,” you started, “It’s rude not to! Birthday flowers are the bare minimum. This isn’t news to you! This is Megan’s party. It’s a big deal. Showing up with flowers tonight says you’re thoughtful, that you’re still making an effort even after her actual birthday. It’s about showing her you care.” You told him. Jack groaned, tilting his head back against the headrest. From the front passenger seat, Noah let out a loud laugh, turning around to look at Jack as he selected another florist along the route on his phone to see if this one might be any less disruptive to your ride.

“She already knows I care. Do I really need to buy more flowers to prove that? We’re halfway there. already” He explained.

“Jack,” you replied, your tone dripping with mock impatience, “you’re literally sleeping with her. The least you can do is show up with something to say, ‘Hey, I value you more than sex.’” You chirped from your seat tucked nicely in Trent’s arms sitting impossibly close to him. You and Trent didn’t want any space from each other. The ride to Megan’s was no exception.

“She’s got a point, mate. Don’t be an ass. Just bring the girl some flowers.” Noah piled on. Jack shot him a glare in the rearview mirror.

“Mate, you gotta get flowers… It matters. You care, show her that.” Trent interjected from beside you, his voice calm and steady as he rubbed lazy circles on your thigh through your yellow sequined skirt. You hummed nuzzling your face into Trent’s neck. He smirked at the affection before leaning in to kiss your hair. “It’s like what? 500 p max, mate. Just do it.” Trent attempted to rationalize with him the cost. Jack let out another groan, his head dropping forward dramatically.

“Five hundred fucking pounds!” Noah repeated,his voice rising in disbelief as he turned fully to face you and Trent. “Where the fuck are you buying flowers from, bro?” He fell into laughter. “Unreal, absolutely unreal. Y/N, you’re robbing him blind!” Noah teased.

“It’s probably not actually 500 pounds,” you shot back with a laugh, shaking your head at his dramatic response. You didn’t actually know that but from the types of bouquets you were receiving as of late, he wasn’t exactly just picking up flowers from a local shop for twenty quid either. You hoped they weren’t that expensive but then at the same time, they definitely were. You could tell by the cheeky grin on Trent’s face. “But if you want her to love you back, you have to do these things, Jack!” You pleaded with him. Noah’s eyebrow raised with a teasing grin at the mention of the world ‘love.’ Jack grimanced at your call out. Trent chuckled softly beside you, his hand squeezing your thigh reassuringly.

“She’s not.” Trent kissed your hair again reassuring you and Noah that you weren’t robbing him. You giggled shyly hiding in his neck again. “It’s not the money; it’s the thought, lad.” He added. Noah rolled his eyes dramatically, smirking as he leaned back in his seat. “Flowers are fundamental to a relationship.” Trent explained further. Noah rolled his eyes once over at Trent’s sudden uptick in wisdom on relationships.

“Yeah, so is a fat bank account,” Noah retorted, his tone laced with amusement and a little laugh Jack finally cracking, falling into laughter too.

“Look, Megan and I are not in a relationship though. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m not trying to be rude, I got her gifts and flowers, we’ve done her birthday together already.” Jack weakly tried to explain.

“Jack!” You scolded him. He needed to take things more seriously with Megan and a birthday was the time to do it. “Maybe you should change that relationship status sometime soon. That’s what I’m trying to say.” You shrugged.

“It’s 500 p bro, or whatever you pay but you can’t expect to go home with her tonight if you’re not going to stake your claim when you walk in.” From the corner of your eye, you caught Trent’s smirk. He leaned down to press a quick kiss to your temple, his lips warm and reassuring. “It’s about doing something nice, showing you care… Letting all the lads that are there know that’s your bird.” He said casually, leaning back against the seat with an air of smug confidence.

“That’s not why I’m going tonight,” Jack shot back defensively.

“Sure, mate,” Trent teased, earning a laugh from Noah.

“Jack, just buy the flowers,” you chimed in, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. From the front seat, Noah twisted around to glare at you. He thought this party was too far away, and he told Megan that teasingly criticizing her choice of location. He was getting restless now. Noah didn’t have a great attention span nor patience and adding a stop wasn’t really sounding all that great to him. You threw him a cheeky middle finger. He turned back around with a grin. Frankly, he was just happy you were happy. You all were in one car and no one was crying and that was significantly better than the last night out.

“Five hundred p is fucking ridiculous.” Noah laughed still in disbelief. Before he could say anything more, you leaned forward and flicked the back of his ear to get him to shut up, making him yelp in surprise. Jack needed to show up with flowers. He didn’t need Noah talking him out of it.

“Ow! Fuck right off.” Noah whipped his head back towards you as he rubbed the shell of his stinging ear. “You’re a thief by the way.” He shot your way with an accusatory finger. You shook your head in disagreement before he turned back around. Jack, still unconvinced, let out a long sigh as he finally found the best and most optimal florist along the route. If he was going to stop, he had to find a place worth it.

“Aye.” Trent quipped at Noah and before you could even add anything more, Trent reached forward and flicked Noah’s other ear, smirking as he leaned back against the seat. Not letting Noah bother you, even if it was merely a joke. Noah yelped dramatically again and turned to swat at Trent.

“This is so dumb,” Jack grumbled, tapping away at the screen.

“It’s not dumb,” you countered, your tone light but insistent. “It’s romantic. And if you don’t do it, you’re sending the message that you don’t care enough to make an effort.”

“Hey, how about you both fuck off, you melt.” Noah shot back at Trent, his ears turning red, crossing his arms as he slouched in his seat. “You’re all just melts.” Noah muttered, shaking his head in mock disbelief. You giggled. Jack groaned again as the car turned a corner, the GPS leading you all now to a quaint little florist tucked away on a quiet street.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll get the bloody flowers,” he muttered, throwing open the car door as soon as it stopped. You leaned back into Trent, a triumphant smile on your face as you watched him stomp off towards the shop.

“You think he’ll actually pick something nice?” Trent asked, his voice warm and teasing as he pulled you closer into him.

“He’d better,” you replied, smirking. “If not, I’ll have to go in there myself and pick them out.” Moments later, Jack returned to the car, a bouquet of vibrant pink flowers you knew Megan would love in hand. He opened the door and slid back into his seat with a huff.

“Happy now? Now we’re gonna be late.” he grumbled, holding up the bouquet for you to inspect.

“Very,” you replied cheekily, grinning widely.

“Unreal,” Jack muttered, shaking his head as the car started again. “I hate all of you.”

“But you’ll have flowers,” you sang, unable to resist one last tease.

“And you can go home with her in good conscience.” Noah mocked your sing-song tone. You rolled your eyes. Trent leaned forward acting like he was going to flick Noah again. Noah jumped in a panic attempting to get away from him. Jack kissed his teeth, ignoring all three of you as Trent burst into laughter, Noah quick to follow, your own giggle unable to stay down, the sound filling the car as you got back on your way to the birthday.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 24 - Parties xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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leggerefiore · 1 year ago

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Can I ask for Maxie, Archie, and Colress touching themselves while smelling their s/o's clothes. (I should have been more specific the first time I requested. Sorry 😭)

yeah, please be specific! villains is such a wide category, and i usually have a 4 character limit on requests! but either way, I did want to include these three but struggled to scneario build for it. so here they are💔

cw: 18+ content, masturbation,

characters: Maxie, Archie, Colress

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 He did not usually like to commit to such acts. Not for any particularly specific reason, it was mostly that he felt it consumed time that he could otherwise be putting elsewhere. Though, he would admit that there were moments where his mind would wander away from his computer screen and into thoughts that he often left unexplored. This was unfortunately one of those times. He pulled away from his computer and pushed up his glasses to rub his eyes. Why? His thoughts were suddenly consumed with images that he felt could wait for later. Maxie tried to suppress them. He thought of something else desperately, like Numels or Archie, but neither of those could end his issue. Instead, a thought of you wearing a Numel hoodie made everything all the more worse for the Magma Leader.

🪨 He undid his shorts and made sure that his teleporter was locked as he pulled out his dick from its confines. His heart raced as he tried to think of this as some form of maintenance. This was just human nature — everyone did it. His hand awkwardly gripped his length as he began to pump it. You kept entering his mind. How you looked in your Magma uniform was a prominent one. He was technically your leader, too. One order could see you on your knees before him in a desk chair. A moan left him as he began to move his hand more naturally. More pleasure surged through his system. Would you have your hood up? No, no — He wanted to see your face. Maxie swallowed as his movements grew rougher and uneven.

🪨 Yet, before the red-head could cum and relieve himself of this ceaseless torment, the teleporter activated. A scream came from his as he ripped his hand away from his dick and tried to make himself look presentable. He thought he turned off access. His heart raced at the thought of some grunt seeing him in such a state — or worse, one of his admins. That was not the case, however, as you entered in and cocked a brow up at him. He was fully aware that you, of all people, would know what he was doing at a glance. You made your way over to him and knelt between his legs. His breath hitched. “You, too, then?” you tilted your head as you grabbed his dick with your hand and began pumping him, “It's been a while since we had, Maxie. Let's enjoy ourselves for a moment.” The Magma leader's fantasy came true with a lot more.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 The Aqua Leader crashed against his bed with a sigh. Of all times for you to step out to the market in Slateport, it had to be when he suddenly had a spike in his libido. He grabbed one of your shirts off from the floor and smelled with a sigh. All his work to help redeem himself from his actions had been keeping him busy and away from you. Which meant no sex. His admittedly high sex drive was in competition with his need to fix what he had caused with Kyogre. It finally won, and you were not here to help him with it. You must have been missing him, too. He grumbled as he sat up. Well, it was not like he could not handle this himself. The teleporter to his room was off already, and he felt like he could make due.

💧 He slid off his wetsuit, feeling freed from the tight clothing was he clutched your shirt tightly. His hand found his half-hard cock, and he began to easily fall into a comfortable rhythm. Archie wished you were here. Somehow, the image of you pressed underneath him while wearing his anchor had lodged itself in his head and drove him half-mad. His movements became harsh as he lost himself in the fantasy. You would both be pressed against each other in the bed as he rutted into you. The cold metal of his anchor turning hot from your shared body heat. He groaned at the thought of your digging your nails into the muscles of his back. His other hand came up to push off his bandana, it feeling way too hot on his head. He bucked his hips into his grip as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

💧 It did not come, however. The sound of the teleporter activating made him panic. His heart was racing as he froze in place. He knew he turned it off. Before he could wrap his head around what happened, you emerged from it with a bag on your arm. You looked around the room for a second before landing on him. His hand let his cock go as he rushed over to you. Your bag was dropped on the floor as he pulled you in for a kiss. You eagerly returned the affection and let him tug away at your clothes while leading you back to the bed. Soon enough, he had you underneath him, just like his fantasy. “Archie, honey,” you broke the kiss for a moment to look him in the eyes, “Just text me next time.” He made a mental note of it as you let out a wonderful noise.

🛸Colress🥼

🧪 As much as he loathed pulling away from his work, he would admit that he found his own body's reactions and needs a bit fascinating. Plus, he supposed he could multitask. Colress did not usually deal with random raises in his libido, but he knew that being with a partner long term could make some changes happen. He grabbed his tablet and noted the time it had begun eagerly alongside what thought may have brought it out. You had gone out for a while. Could that be a factor? There were so many things for him to note. He nearly forgot about his erection in his eagerness to figure out the possible reason why. Of course, it made itself apparent again.

🧪 He sighed as he momentarily pulled away from his theorising to unbutton his slacks and free his dick. Sliding off his gloves, he began to pump his cock in a methodical manner while trying to note the sensations. Colress felt his breaths grow quicker as he thought more and more on it. You had brought this out, he was certain. A thought of you laid on in his lab coat for some reason. Why was it so appealing? You were nude, sure, but why the lab coat? A groan left him as he began to quicken his pace while thinking on it. You were beckoning him in his head, asking for him to use one of his personally made sex toys on you. The thought of bringing out the Colress Machine S-35 to use on you made his pumping grow sporadic and random. His muscles tensed, and he expected himself to reach orgasm.

🧪 Except, you calling his name broke his imagination and drug him back to reality. He put his tablet down to see you standing in the entrance of his lab with confusion and worry written across your face. You rushed in but froze when you saw him. Your expression then became that of minor annoyance and relief. “I thought you had hurt yourself when I came in and heard you groaning,” you sighed and moved to stand before him, “Colress, what in the world were you doing?” There was little time to explain. Instead, he asked that you strip and put on one of his spare lab coats. You stared at him for a moment in silent disbelief before shrugging and doing what he said. The sight instantly brought back up his libido. But, before he could make any notes, you crawled in his lap and straddled him. It seemed his theories really would have to come later.

#pokemon x reader #maxie x reader #archie x reader #colress x reader #pokemon/reader #pokemon maxie x reader #pokemon archie x reader #pokemon colress x reader #maxie/reader #archie/reader #colress/reader #smut #nastystuff

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tigerdrop · 4 months ago

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Got any fun thoughts to share about Ford and Bill?

they drive me crazy dude. i have a lot to say about them so im putting it under a readmore

ive been billpilled for 1 million years dog. hes like the Blueprint. bills the perfect entity to me: terrifying shapeshifting demon who can slip into every corner of your mind and read all your thoughts and memories. and also hes a cartoon character with noodle arms and a cute shape. and hes a pathetic worm whos hung up on his human ex. and hes a funny little guy whos playful and mean and delights in tormenting you but juuuust enough so that he doesnt break you. Hes so awesome

like. listen. this isnt going to be a surprise if youve read literally anything ive ever written. but if bill possessed ford and slammed his hand in a car door and got a kick out of it and put him in a funny little outfit id be fine about it. ford was literally in a 24/7 freeuse lifestyle with him so why WOULDNT he

yeah im kind of a masochist. Why do u ask

put his ass in a horny neurotic guys body and see what happens. hit his dick with a cartoon mallet for fun. slap him around a little. feels cool and neat! like "human bodies are so responsive, huh" said while blanfords about to jam a fork into an outlet (thats my name for it btw. Im not looking it up)

what if i hurt you?? what if i dropped you??? Just kidding :-)

i dont know how much genuine sexual pleasure bill would get out of it so much as the thrill and novelty of a new human sensation but i think that could be fun in and of itself. jacking off with another guys body in a weirdly distant way like Haha Wow. Im getting kind of flustered here! (actively jamming a coke bottle into his pussy)

and the thing that really drives me crazy about ford is how much fetish shit he thinks about/makes inventions for/has inflicted upon him. i think in the series finale hes tied up like 3 fucking times. its insane. he wants to give up control of his body so fucking bad dude!!!!! (exhibit A: ford going limp like a kitten whenever hes picked up. it happens more than once.)

and theres even more contrived bondage bits in the deleted scenes! its maddening. hes an insane obsessive bdsm-lifestyling pervert and hes likethe ideal guy to match bills freak

hes soooo fucking easy. its so much fun to me. theres something really erotic about the way bill makes him feel special about his hands......like.......its naked flattery but its also kinda true. its weird. he likes weird shit. and ford falls for it soooo easy. drives me nuts

now walk with me. think about how easy that same interaction would transfer to ford being transgender. and your not allowed to get mad at me bc this is just my thing now

its so strange! kind of captivating. bills been around the block but the western conception of transmasculinity is so recent that for him it might as well be a blink of the eye. so i think it would be new to him. especially given when he actually makes a deal with ford. just another special thing about his special little guy. he *knew* there was something about ford

and to be frank i think that if you were a transmasc pervert in the 70s and a dream demon came along that understood you inside and out and can make all of your bizarre fantasies come true. well. you would have been fucking stupid not to fuck him

i need to read the book of bill so fucking bad bc the extra context of bill being super hung up on ford drives me CRAZY!!!! i love bitter lovestruck jerks. i love divorce. and i think they could and should hook up again. bad guys that are reluctantly forced to stop being so bad are so much fun and fords huge fucking ego didnt go anywhere. i think bill could convince ford to give him a second chance. at least just to hook up for old times sake

anyway. im making a bill itabag. Gotta go

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salmalin · 1 year ago

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Final Fantasy XII, Ashe, Vayne, "Us V.S. Them" Mentality, and What Makes a Hero

Something I really love about FF12 is that beyond the whole "free will" plotline that underscores basically every FF game, it actually has something else to say. And it gets pretty specific with it in a way that not many other media I've seen is willing to properly explore: the extremely thin line between hero and villain.

Possibly due to the disaster that was its development, Final Fantasy 12 was able to get extremely specific with its themes and messages, and the rush that occurred when a second team came in to finish for an entirely different team may have allowed for most of this to make it to the final game. It's also ridiculously topical and hits a modern problem on the nose—"Us Vs Them" Mentality, and the oversimplification that follows. This is something that I've only ever seen Terry Pratchett attack so violently.

The villains are not villains. They are people, like us. But more than this, they are only villains because of how they do things. But more than that...

The heroes are not heroes. They are people, like us. But more than this, they are only heroes because of how they do things.

In the eyes of a wider plotline, Vayne might have been the hero if not for his methods. This is made clear from the get-go. He's freeing man from the control of the Occuria, after all. He's fighting God—something you always do in the Final Fantasy games. What's worse, he was raised in a situation where his ruthlessness was not just an asset, but a necessity. He'd disposed of his elder brothers, and endeavored to build a world where Gods and Emperors did not dictate the movement of man—only him. It is, in my humble opinion, a response to excessive trauma from a young age. He is a brilliant character, beloved and loathed for his ability, and he is not arrogant about it.

Meanwhile Ashe is the last remaining descendant of Raithwall and seeks her country's freedom. Her characterization could have ended there and the audience would have been satisfied. Except it didn't.

She was angry. Arrogant. Uptight. She made rude assumptions about the people around her. And then...

Then Ashe decided to use the Nethicite.

And after her declaration, the first person to speak is the lowliest in standing of all in the room—a boy who'd seemed unimportant from the very start, who she'd degraded practically on sight. He'd been the most impacted by the war out of all of them; a boy who has had little to say up until this point besides seemingly shallow statements about theft, independence, and revenge.

"You even know how to use it?"

Vaan's words cut through the moment, changing the vibe instantly before Fran can take the scene. It's a good point, and highlighted a critical flaw in Ashe's thinking until that moment.

She doesn't. In a literal and figurative sense, this is the core of the entire story of Final Fantasy XII—Ashe does not know how to wield Nethicite. Not just as a weapon, but as a weapon.

There is rebellion. There is freedom-fighting. Then...

Then there's mass murder of civilians.

One of these things is not like the other.

But Ashe doesn't even see civilians. She's angry at Archadia as a whole for some reason—likely because they were "complicit" during the war. She sees them as all the same, and doesn't even think of them before suggesting using the uncontrollable Nethicite. She's convinced that her people will never get along with Archadians to the point where it's a plot point. She thinks they all want revenge. And seeing what we have until that point in the story... Yeah, that makes sense.

Until it doesn't. Until Vaan—the "unimportant" character mentioned before, the one who spoke, the main character everyone seems to overlook—actively does what she needs to do before it's even spoken aloud.

He trusts an Archadian.

He makes friends.

He puts aside his rage in favor of cooperation.

And he does this so casually that it's in the background when it happens. Until Basch brings it to her attention, Ashe didn't even notice. She was so fixed in her idea of what her people would want that it never occurred to her that yeah, maybe they do want this... in a moment of rage. A moment that would pass.

A moment that would pass in favor of guilt, horror, and disgust if she used the Nethicite.

We get to see Ashe's bloodthirsty nature before any of her other traits, but for Vayne we are shown he is charismatic, intelligent, and thoughtful.

It is Ashe who is the hero.

It is Ashe who is the hero because she does not fight with blinders on. Instead, she loses those blinders in no small part due to Basch, who points things out to her, and Vaan, who literally shows her the way. Vaan loses his rage first. Vaan moves on first. There's dialog around this a few times, and plot movements as well, and it's made pretty clear that every emotional development Ashe is going through, Vaan is going through directly in front of her and without the support that she had for so long. Vaan and Ashe are so acutely similar that it's almost alarming.

Vaan hates Archadians and then he changes his mind. Vaan hates Archadia until he changes his mind. Vaan hates soldiers until he changes his mind.

Vaan hates until he realizes that hate is a symptom, and to cure the symptom you can't just repeat the circumstances that led to the problem in the first place.

The main characters—the "heroes"—very nearly become the villains of a whole other country until they decide... no. No, we're not going to do this. No, we're not going to use this. Instead, we're just going to get rid of it. We're going to get rid of the chance of anyone using this great power again. This power would end the war in a split second before it could even begin. We've got so much of it, we could rule the world.

And then they don't rule the world. They destroy the ability to rule the world, and take that power out of the puppetmasters' hands.

You don't kill the occuria.

Heck, the only person they really kill is Vayne.

There is no "us".

There is no "them".

There are just people—people like us. And we are just as capable of being those people. One wrong step, and we become the people we hate most in the world.

There is no "us" and "them". You have no way of telling if a person is a monster on the inside. There's no way to look at them and know, or talk to them and know, or work with them and know. Vayne is charming and kind and gentle when he wishes to be, yet we only see Ashe's "undesireable" qualities.

She is the hero.

Ashe is the hero because where Vayne was prepared to burn everything and everyone to the ground for the promise of a day that might not come, she was not. Vayne was a battering ram where they needed a scalpel, and her team—six people with questions and some luck—was that scalpel.

Being a hero is not about being nice. It's not about being able to make connections or read a room. It's not even about how kind you are to others with your words. It's about what power we have, and how we are willing to use it. That is what makes a hero.

#ffxii #I'm gonna stop here because if I start talking about Drace I'll be here all day.#ff12 #final fantasy 12 #final fantasy xii #text #mine

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Text

Heart on a Sleeve

Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~6.3k

cw: explicit language, switching POVs (2nd and 3rd person), established relationship, kissing, suggestive touching, sexual tension

Summary: You and Mitsuya make your budding relationship public and things only continue to grow from there. The Tokyo Manji gang successfully absorbs the Leviathans all thanks to the efforts of new captains Tetta Kisaki and Shuji Hanma. Despite Mikey’s praise for them during this month’s meeting, Mitsuya remains wary of the two. His suspicions only increase when he runs into them while on a date with you.

Author's Note: This took me so long to write, but I did it and I am proud of it. I thoroughly enjoy writing about the honeymoon phases in a relationship, so this was a fun one for me. Thanks for the love and support on this so far and I hope you like where the story is going so far. Thank you for reading.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Sunday night, still reeling from the glorious high of breakfast with your new boyfriend Takashi Mitsuya, you call your best friends to break the news.

“You’re what?!” Keiko exclaims, her shriek loud through the phone.

You lower the volume, not wanting to be overheard by your parents downstairs. “I’m dating Takashi Mitsuya,” you repeat. “From homeroom.”

Mei is quiet on the other end while you can practically hear the cogs spinning in overdrive in Keiko’s head. “Takashi Mitsuya, from homeroom?”

Losing patience, and also amused by her reaction, you confirm, “Yes.”

“Mitsuya, who’s in the Tokyo Manji Gang. That Mitsuya?”

“Yes, Keiko, that Mitsuya!”

“He’s in a gang. What is our sweet Hana doing dating a gangster?!”

Defensive now, you reply, “He’s been nothing but kind to me. You know as well as I do that he’s never caused problems for us at school. He’s only ever acted when he knew there was someone he needed to stick up for. I don’t care that he’s in a gang. He’s a good person and I like him.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Mei finally speaks. “You’re right, Hana. We know he’s a nice guy. We just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all we’re trying to say. Right, Keiko?”

She clears her throat before muttering, “Yeah.”

“Takashi would never hurt me. I feel safe with him.”

At that, they relent, setting their worries aside to discuss the details on how your budding relationship came to be. They had known since the beginning that you were taking sewing lessons from him, though they didn’t have a clue how you truly felt. It started as a tiny crush, a fantasy that you kept secret because you never considered it’d ever become real. Then, when Takashi admitted his feelings towards you, everything happened so fast. It’s only now that you are able to reveal everything to your friends, who are ultimately excited for you.

The only obstacle left is your parents. You’re sure that they’ll be in for a shock once you tell them since this is your first boyfriend ever. Naturally, they’ll be protective, as any parent would be. You’re confident that once they get to know Takashi, they’ll see him just as you do.

Monday morning, you do your usual routine of walking to school with your friends. Takashi offers to pick you up, but until you are ready to inform your parents about him, you figure it’d be best to avoid any cause for suspicion, especially since they are already wary of him to begin with. Instead, you part ways with Mei and Keiko to meet him in the parking lot before school, greeting him with a hug. He smiles, placing his hands at your waist to pull you in closer. “Hi.”

You nuzzle your nose to his, beaming. “Hi.”

He kisses you again, his tongue slipping past your lips this time, surprising you. Heat rushes into your cheeks, flustered and excited. You break apart, burying your face into his shoulder, catching your breath while he massages your back tenderly. “Are you okay?”

You nod, still hiding. “Just…getting used to all this.”

He tips your chin up to meet your gaze, smiling softly. “Me too. If I’m moving too fast, just tell me, okay? We’ll go at the pace you’re comfortable with.” He gives you a quick smooch before locking his fingers with yours. “Ready?”

As new and foreign as all this is for you, having Takashi makes it’s much easier to navigate. He leads you through the hallways of your school, unwavering, the grip on your hand confident, despite the prying eyes and hushed whispers from your passing peers. It’s odd being the center of attention for once, but like most high school relationships, the intrigue from others will eventually fade, and all that will matter is how the two of you feel about each other. And in this moment, you’re happy to be by his side.

Peh-Yan, one of your classmates and Takashi’s close friend from Toman, approaches you with a respectful bow. “Hello, Shimizu.”

You smile, greeting him back by his surname. “Hello, Hayashi.”

Takashi smirks, giving him a light punch on the arm. “No need to be so formal, Peh-Yan.”

He stands up straight. “Right, sorry. Anyways, I have some intel on Kisaki and Hanma infiltrating the Leviathans. Thought I’d pass on the information to you in case you were interested.”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, facing you. “Toman stuff. I’ll see you later in class, okay? Let’s eat lunch together.” He gives you a peck on the cheek, letting you go.

Part of you wants to stay, to listen in, but you know better than to intrude on topics that don’t pertain to you. You wave goodbye, heading to your classroom alone, your skin tingling with his warmth, already missing it.

~~~

Mitsuya never imagined himself to be a doting boyfriend, but he quickly finds himself adapting to that role almost too easily. In their only shared class, he spends too much time staring at the back of her head, admiring how cute she is. The few times she glances back at him to flash him a grin, his heart swells and he’s itching to hold her again as soon as class is dismissed. Usually, he’d eat lunch with Peh-Yan out in the courtyard or alone inside the home economics room while working on his latest sewing project. However, this entire week, he sits with his girlfriend and her friends. Mei and Keiko are nervous around him at first, unsure how to interact with a delinquent. But with Hana’s help and support, he gradually falls into place with them, finding topics to discuss that all of them can connect on.

They aren’t able to spend much time together after school, not with the both of them being preoccupied with extracurriculars. So, Friday remains a special day for them. It’s their first sewing lesson since everything changed a week ago. Mitsuya is a bit nervous, wondering if he’ll be able to focus on the actual lesson when he gets so easily distracted by her presence. When she meets him inside the home economics room, cradling her helmet, a pleasant smile on her face, all his worries disappear. Even if he does get distracted, who cares? He’s happy to be spending this time with her, alone.

She drops the helmet onto the usual desk, stepping closer to him. “Hi Takashi.”

“Hi Hana,” he responds, closing the distance between them with a kiss. They’ve gotten more comfortable doing this, their lips brushing seamlessly, his hands always finding the plush curves of her body. He loves the way she feels under his touch, on his mouth, against his chest. All the spaces of him that felt empty before are now full, all thanks to her.

Before they get carried away any further, he pulls off reluctantly, steadying himself before explaining what they’ll be doing today, eyes flitting back to her lips, now slightly swollen from their kisses. It’s happened several occasions so far this week. Their chaste kisses turning into more, both of them chasing their hunger little by little, teasing that fine line inch by inch. Mitsuya has managed to contain his excitement, though it’s getting more and more difficult, especially with her gradually testing the waters. A soft moan against his lips, her fingers toying with the elastic of his pants, her tongue pushing up against his, mouth open for him to explore and enjoy. He’ll continue to stand by, waiting until she’s ready to take the next steps forward. Despite how eager he is, nothing’s more important to him than making her feel safe.

Their lesson today results in a heart patch sewn onto the sleeve of her jean jacket. She admires it silently as Mitsuya puts away the sewing machine and the rest of his materials into one of the cabinets. When he’s finished, he returns to her side, draping his arm over her shoulders, pressing a smooch to the side of her head.

“The machine made this way easier than I thought it would be,” she comments.

“It usually does,” he says, running his finger over the stitching. “Before you know it, you’ll be an expert.”

“I doubt it. But that’s okay because I have you. If this patch here ever comes off, I’ll go straight to you.”

He raises a brow at her, teasing, “And who says I’ll help you?”

She tugs at his collar, peering up at him, smiling. “I guess I just assumed, now that we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“You’re right. I’ll always be here to stitch your little heart back on.” He leans in, meeting her lips in a passionate kiss, surrounding her in his arms, the fluttering in his belly growing erratic. The door is closed and all the other students have already left for the day to enjoy the weekend. Mitsuya’s favorite spot is an empty classroom after school, and they happen to have this one all to themselves. As if on cue, his phone vibrates in his pocket, and before he checks it, he knows it’s his mother reminding him that she’s leaving for her shift soon. Disappointed, they break apart, gigging as if they were caught doing something naughty while they gather their belongings, heading towards his bike outside in the parking lot. On their way to his house, her grip is snug on his waist, holding him tightly. He’s reminded how good it feels to ride with her behind him, keeping her safe, keeping him safe.

They behave themselves in front of his sisters, only exchanging subtle glances and grazes when they’re absolutely in the clear. He’s tempted to skip today’s Toman meeting, hoping to spend the rest of the night by her side, but given Peh-Yan’s news from earlier this week, it’s an important one to attend. Begrudgingly, he says his goodbyes, sneaking a kiss to Hana’s cheek before he leaves for the shrine.

As usual, Draken is waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, leaning against his Zephyr. He smirks as soon as he sees him, giving him a congratulatory pat on the back. “My man. Did you finally get some tonight?”

Mitsuya rolls his eyes, shrugging him off. “I told you, we’re taking things slow. Besides, we were watching the brats. We couldn’t do it even if we wanted to.”

“Are you telling me that you don’t want to do it with her?” he teases.

“No, I definitely want to do it with her. I mean, make love to her,” he corrects himself, blushing.

Draken snorts, not one to indulge in euphemisms. “So when do you think the two of you will start fucking then?”

He grimaces at his vulgarity before answering, “I don’t know. It hasn’t even been a week yet. We’re taking it one day at a time. It’ll happen when the time is right.”

Draken digs into his pocket to retrieve a lollipop, unwrapping it to stick into his mouth, sucking on it loudly. “Alright, it’s your dick. I’m just here to offer you some moral support, man-to-man. Dragon-to-dragon.”

Mitsuya chuckles. “I appreciate it.”

They wait a few more minutes, chatting idly about other topics. Emma seems to be doing well so far in her pregnancy. Draken continues to cook whatever she’s craving at the time, from chicken katsu curry to spaghetti and meatballs. They don’t know the gender yet, though they don’t really seem to care; they’re both just ecstatic to be having this baby in the first place. Mikey remains oblivious to the fact that his sister is with child and that his right-hand-man is about to become a father. According to Draken, he continues to be a recluse, despite their efforts to reach out to him. It seems like forever now that Mitsuya has seen Mikey outside of these Toman meetings. He remembers vividly the tears it Takemitchy’s eyes over a month ago now, worried about their friend, their leader. He’s gone. And I don’t know where to find him. Maybe it’s time they finally made a real effort to bring him back.

From the corner of his eye, Mitsuya spots Kisaki and Hanma, the newly appointed captains, leading a group of unfamiliar faces up the shrine steps. He assumes it’s members of the rival Leviathan gang. The two must have been successful in their mission to infiltrate and absorb them, which doesn’t change Mitsuya’s opinion about them. Peh-Yan warned him about this earlier in the week and anticipates Mikey’s reaction to this recent development.

Takemitchy eventually arrives with Chifuyu, the two of them still the best of buddies. They greet the others cheerfully, waiting for Hakkai, who is always the last to arrive, fashionably late with a toothy grin on his face as they all berate him playfully, joking about how he was with yet another chick right before this. Draken, who always has a sixth sense about these things, deems it time to begin, leading his brothers up the shrine steps. Mitsuya always gets a swell in his chest when they’re together like this, nostalgic and proud to be in Toman. If only Mikey were here to join them like he used to.

In their usual formation, the men face Mikey, who’s front and center, Draken standing beside him. His eyes are noticeably heavy from either exhaustion or loss of sleep, maybe both. There’s an unsettling lack of emotion in his expression. He used to burn so bright with passion and intensity, something they all admired about him. It’s what got them to form Toman in the first place. Now, it’s as if the fire has dimmed to the tiniest ember, flickering just enough to barely survive.

After going over standard housekeeping issues, Mikey moves on to the main topic of tonight’s meeting. “Kisaki, Hanma, come forward,” he announces, beckoning them towards the front. They step towards him, smug grins on both their faces. Mitsuya can’t help but roll his eyes, already annoyed.

“I’d like to recognize these two for successfully following through with their mission. The Leviathan gang is no more. We welcome its past members into Toman as one of our own. Show them the respect they deserve.”

There are loud whispers amongst the crowd, everyone turning to look at the new brothers, who are intimidating in terms of numbers. There’s at least twenty of them, most of them built like brick houses. Mitsuya has always felt odd whenever previous rivals gangs join them. There’s always that initial distrust, considering they were just at each other’s throat prior. But he’s learned to accept it for what it is, trusting Mikey to make the right calls.

“Anything you’d like to share with us?” Mikey opens the floor to the two captains.

Kisaki, of course, takes the opportunity to speak, his voice as slimy as ever. “Toman welcomes the Leviathans with open arms. All these men will surely make a great addition to our crew. Not only are they abundant in muscle, they are clever and cunning. Exactly what Toman needs to continue its reign over Tokyo.”

Hanma adds, “It was a real bitch to convince them to join us, but it was all worth it. You’ll see soon enough,” he smirks, licking his lips.

“I’m sure we will,” Mikey says with a small smile, the slightest spark in his eyes. “As far as I know, you two are the only captains that have stepped up recently. I have nothing but the highest respect for you.”

More grumbling from the crowd, especially from the remaining captains. Draken’s brows are tight, clearly offended by the subtle diss. Chifuyu scoffs quietly, nudging Takemitchy, who looks like he’s near tears. Have their personal lives gotten too much in the way of their duties to Toman? Have they all let Mikey down?

When the meeting ends, they break formation to gather into their smaller circles. Chifuyu is still peeved, complaining to them. “Respect? To those two bastards? Has Mikey lost it?”

“Hey, watch it,” Draken warns. “I’ll admit. I’ve been too busy with the baby.”

“And I’ve been busy preparing for university, I’ve totally neglected Toman!” Takemitchy admits. “I don’t blame Mikey for being annoyed with us.”

Chifuyu throws his arms up, frustrated. “What does he expect us to do? He hasn’t reached out to any of us, doesn’t even talk to us anymore. How are we supposed to do anything if he’s completely ghosting us?”

From his peripheral, Mitsuya notices Mikey walking away from whatever private discussion he’s having with the old Leviathan gang. Before he can go anywhere else, Takemitchy calls out for him, waving enthusiastically. “Mikey!”

Chifuyu shakes his head. “Takemitchy, you idiot,” he mutters.

They all turn to their leader, who stares at them, eyes cold, palms in his pockets. He doesn’t move for a couple of seconds, and Mitsuya thinks that he’ll ignore them completely, which wouldn’t be surprising. But then, he takes slow steps towards them, expression unreadable. When he’s there, none of them are sure what to say, until Takemitchy breaks that ice. “Let’s go to Danny’s tonight! Just like old times!” he suggests, desperate.

Late night dinner at Danny’s was routine for them back when they were young, dumb, and broke. The food was mediocre at best, but the memories they shared there is what kept them coming back. Pancake eating contests, where Mikey would always come out victorious. Flirting with their favorite waitresses to get extra French fries. Loading up on the free refills of soda to compete in burping competitions. It’s more nostalgic than anything. Gradually, as they got older and busier with life, Danny’s become less frequent. Maybe this is what they need to get back into the normal swing of things.

Mikey doesn’t say much, except for giving them a small nod and muttering a quiet, “Sure,” his hands still buried in his pockets. At least it’s something.

~~~

It’s past midnight by the time Mitsuya arrives back home. You’re half-asleep on the couch with the TV on in the background. The girls are snoring in their room, tired after playing with you all night. He rouses you awake, caressing your cheek sweetly as he kneels on the floor beside you. “Hey cutie, I’m back.”

The pet name catches you off guard. You beam at him, tugging him by the neck to meeting his lips with yours. He smiles into this kiss. “You like that, huh?”

Nodding, you answer, “Yeah, I do.”

He deepens the kiss, running his fingers through your hair, tongue flicking against yours. Soon, you’re both breathing heavily, lips smacking loudly. Before it gets any further, you break away from him, giggling. “Takashi.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, swallowing hard, he whispers, “Yeah, I know. I know.”

You grin, sitting up on the couch to make room for him, patting the space beside you. “How was the meeting?”

He sits down, holding your hand, resting his head on your shoulder. “It was good. We went out for a bite after and it was really fun. Mikey joined us and it was just like old times.”

“Mikey?” you ask. You’ve heard that name before, but you barely know anything about Toman, simply because you’re too nervous to ask, embarrassed to be so nosy.

“He’s Toman’s leader. He’s the reason Toman is what it is. He started it all. Recently, it seems like he’s been distant from us. But tonight, I think we finally got him back.”

You squeeze him tight. “I’m happy to hear that.”

He doesn’t explain any further, enjoying the comfortable silence between you. Eventually, he says, “We should go out on a real date tomorrow. My mom doesn’t work until night, so we can spend the day together. What do you think?”

“I’d love that.”

He sits up, grinning at you. “Want to just stay the night?”

You laugh. “I don’t think my parents would like that, considering they have no idea we’re officially dating yet.”

“Then maybe we should tell them soon, over dinner. I really want them to like me.”

“I’m sure they already like you!” you answer, half-heartedly. In all honestly, you have no idea how they feel about him, except for that short conversation you had previously over dinner. You wonder how they will react when you tell them he’s your boyfriend, that you even have a boyfriend. You’d be lying to yourself if you say you aren’t anxious about it. “Let me talk to them first and we can arrange something, okay?”

He smiles brightly, pinching your cheek. “Don’t be nervous! I’ll work my charm on them, you’ll see.”

Mitsuya drives you home after a few more snuggles on the couch. Your parents are asleep by the time you walk through the door, quietly slipping out of your shoes and sneaking up the stairs into your bedroom. You don’t fall asleep right away, staring blankly at the ceiling, excited for tomorrow’s date with your boyfriend. He plans to pick you up at eleven in the morning but doesn’t elaborate on any more details. You wonder what he has in store for the two of you.

The next morning, you eat breakfast before getting ready for the day ahead of you. You make the brave decision to inform your parents about where you’ll be off to today. Clearing your throat, you brace yourself, confessing, “I’m going on a date today. With Takashi Mitsuya.”

It’s the most jarring silence for the next ten seconds. Your mother gawks at you, dropping her fork onto her plate with a harsh clink. Your father’s face is twisted in an expression akin to him witnessing some sort of apparition or horrible monster. Given their reactions, you almost regret being so honest with them, though a small weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Your mom is the first to speak, tone unnaturally high-pitched when she responds, “Oh! Is this a study date perhaps? Are you preparing for an upcoming exam?”

You shake your head. “No. We’re just hanging out.”

“Hanging out,” she repeats, slightly breathless now. “You’re hanging out with a boy?”

“Yes,” you answer plainly, maintaining your patience as the cogs in her head start spinning faster, finally understanding.

“Oh. Okay,” you mother says, at a loss for words. Your dad remains speechless, clearly flabbergasted by the mere idea of you spending time with someone other than them or Keiko and Mei.

Before they can begin a full-fledged interrogation, you quickly scarf down the rest of your breakfast on the plate, standing up and announcing, “I’m going to change now, bye!”, sprinting up the stairs without any further explanation. For now, it seems you’ve dodged a bullet.

For today’s date, you decide to wear a floral sundress that ends just above your knees, something you’re comfortable and confident in. You keep your hair the same, unsure what else to do with it. You stare at your reflection in the mirror a while longer than usual, nervous though you know you shouldn’t be. Takashi has been nothing but kind to you, so you have no reason to believe he’d care so much about your appearance. Still, you want to make a good impression on him, especially since this is your first official date.

When he texts you that he’s waiting outside, you give yourself one last glance in the mirror, rushing out of your room to slip into your nicest pair of sandals by the doorway. Your mother and father both appear beside you, watching. “Be careful,” your mother comments, crossing her arms over her chest. Your father hums, still incapable of forming words as a response.

Turning the knob to leave, you smile at them. “I will.”

To your surprise, Takashi stands on the other side of the door, flashing that signature grin, waving politely. “Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Shimizu.” He has a backpack slung over his shoulders and you notice that his Impulse is nowhere to be seen, so you assume he walked here.

Your mother returns his smile as best as she can, though she’s obviously still wary about the whole situation. “Hello, Mitsuya. What are your plans today with our daughter?”

Your cheeks get hot, embarrassed by her nosiness, but Takashi takes it in stride. “We’re going to have a picnic at the park. I made sandwiches for our lunch. Then, we’re taking the train to Shibuya to play at the arcade. I’ll have Hana home before dinnertime, since I’ll be babysitting my sisters tonight.”

Impressed by his answer, you study your mom’s reaction, mentally breathing a sigh of relief when her smiles grows wider, seemingly pleased. “That sounds like a fun time.” She nudges your dad. “Doesn’t that sound like a fun time, sweetheart?”

Your father’s eyes narrow, glaring at your poor boyfriend. “I suppose,” he mutters.

Takashi doesn’t waver, maintaining that easy-going expression while he bows to them. “Thank you for allowing me the honor of spending time with your daughter.”

The two of you manage to leave for your date unscathed. From the doorway, your parents watch you and Takashi walk towards the park, keeping your distance from each other until you’re out of their sight. With the coast clear, Takashi laces his fingers with yours, laughing. “Well, that was scary.”

“You were scared? You were completely cool in front of them,” you reply, surprised by his comment.

“I’m glad it came off that way because I was this close to shitting myself, especially when your dad starting staring daggers at me,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I’m so sorry about that! He’s been acting weird all morning since I told him I’m going on a date with you.”

“You told them that?”

“Well, I didn’t want to lie to them,” you explain. “I think they were just shocked at first. I’ve never been out with a boy before, so naturally, they are concerned.”

He nods. “I get that. It’s nice to have parents that are always worried about you,” he muses, a glint of sadness in his eyes. “I love my mom, don’t get me wrong. But she’s always working, so she relies on me a lot to be the man of the house. Nobody ever really worries about me, y’know?”

Your chest swells with emotion, empathizing with him. It can’t be easy being forced to grow up too fast. You squeeze him affectionately. “Well, you have me now. I’ll be here to worry about you and take care of you whenever you need it.”

He pauses in his tracks, staring at you. “You mean it?”

You smile reassuringly at him. “Of course I mean it.”

He gazes at you, pulling you in close to kiss you on the lips. You melt into him, letting his tongue slip inside your mouth, deep and passionate, full of unspoken gratitude for your commitment to him. “Thank you, Hana. I – ” he pauses, swallowing whatever he’s about to admit, instead repeating, “Thank you.” You pretend not to notice it, forcing your mind to forget about it completely.

A few minutes later, you arrive at the park, finding a good spot to settle in. It’s a beautiful day, perfect for a picnic like this. Bright sun, blue skies, and the ideal breeze. People are gathered all around you, walking along the pathway, jumping on the playground, throwing a ball in a game of fetch with their dogs. Takashi swings his bag towards his front, retrieving a big throw blanket that you lay out on the grass. He unloads his pack, displaying the sandwiches and variety of snacks he prepared, including some of your favorites. You’re dazzled by how charming this all is, how charming he is. Every day you’re together, you grow more and more fond of him.

The two of you dig in and everything is, of course, delicious. What makes it more special is the company. It’s easy being with Takashi. Conversation flows naturally and you never have to think about occupying any spaces of awkward silence. Even when it is, it’s comfortable, the two of you basking in each other’s presence, marveling at the sights and sounds surrounding you. Children’s laughter ringing from the nearby swings, dogs barking, the gentle wind blowing through the trees. When a leaf falls in your hair, Takashi picks it off, lingering a bit longer to twirl your soft strands between his fingers. After you’ve digested enough, you both lie down, staring up at the sky, pointing out clouds shaped like cotton balls, marshmallows, and bunnies. His hand never leaves yours, always interlaced, his fingers filling in the spaces between yours seamlessly. Time both stops and passes too quickly whenever you’re with him. You’re lost in the moment, savoring each second and before you know it, it’s already time to move on to the next. “We should head to the arcade now,” he suggests, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

You nuzzle into his palm, relishing his gentle touch. He gives you a smooch on the forehead. “I could lay here for hours with you. But I want to impress you with all my skills at the arcade so that you think I’m cool,” he teases.

You giggle, sitting up to help him pack. “I already think you’re cool; you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

With everything put away, the two of you take the train towards one of the more popular arcades in Shibuya. It’s teeming with kids and teenagers, typical for a Saturday. You spot several of your classmates here, who greet you with a polite wave. At one of the cashiers, Mitsuya redeems two play cards to last you enough games for the next hour.

As expected, he suggests starting with a racing game, one where you’re propped on top of a fake motorcycle, riding through the streets of Tokyo. Seems all too fitting for him. What he doesn’t expect is for you to win, whizzing past him at the very last second before crossing the finish line. He’s thoroughly impressed, rewarding you with a proud kiss on the cheek.

You go through a variety of games, from classics like skee-ball and basketball, to new ones you haven’t tried before, like a zombie invasion simulation that had you screaming at the top of your lungs to your boyfriend’s delight. Eventually, you make your way to the claw machines, where Mitsuya manages to win a Hello Kitty plushie after five tries and you somehow score a squishy shark in only one. You exchange your prizes with each other, both of you cherishing them as your first gifts as a couple.

Time flies as it always does with him. Eventually, you run out of tokens to continue playing, only left now with points to redeem for prizes. On the way to the prize room, you notice Mitsuya staring off into the distance. You find out who he’s looking at; there are a group of boys in the signature Toman jackets gathered on one side of the arcade where the shooting games are located. Most of them are burly and it’s hard for you to believe that they’re your age, maybe even younger. There’s a shorter boy amongst them, blonde hair and glasses that gleam against the bright lights of the arcade. You’ve never seen him before, though something about him gives you an unexplainable chill.

“Are those your friends? Do you want to say hi to them?” you suggest.

Takashi snaps out of it, surprised that you caught him. “No, that’s okay. It’s our day today, remember? No need to drag you into any Toman business.”

You’re tempted to argue with him, not at all minding being introduced to this part of his life. However, he seems determined not to do that in this moment, so you let it be.

You take your time perusing, making note of what you can afford with the total number of points the two of you managed to accumulate throughout the day. It’s clear that he’s distracted now, not nearly as chatty as he was earlier, the most subtle glint of worry on his face. Halfway through, he announces, “I’m going to use the bathroom. Just stay right here, okay? I’ll be back.” He walks out briskly, leaving you alone. You sigh to yourself, already lonely without him. You dawdle even more as you admire the big prizes on display, contemplating saving your points to redeem one of them someday in the future.

“Got enough for that?”

The unfamiliar voice startles you. You turn to whoever is speaking, surprised to find a tall, lanky boy standing beside you, grinning. His hair is black, though he’s got a blonde stripe down the middle. A long, golden earring dangles on his left lobe. He’s wearing the recognizable Toman jacket.

You swallow, suddenly nervous under his gaze. “What?”

“I asked if you have enough points for that.” He points at the giant Pikachu plushie you were just admiring. “Because if you don’t, I can definitely lend you some.”

“That’s very nice of you, but I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate me accepting things from strangers.”

His smile grows bigger, showing his teeth, amused by your response. He holds his hand out. “Shuji Hanma.”

Hesitant, you end up taking it, introducing yourself. “Hana Shimizu.”

At that, his eyes widen and his grip on you becomes tighter. “I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

~~~

He should have ignored them completely, Mitsuya knows that. He also definitely shouldn’t have left Hana alone. But seeing Kisaki all buddy-buddy with the old Leviathan gang members gives him an uneasiness that he can’t shake. So, he pretends to need the bathroom to excuse himself, just for a few moments to get some intel on what they might be up to. It’s for the good of Toman, that’s his justification for it.

Luckily he’s in casual clothes today and not in his Toman jacket, so he blends in with the crowd easily as he maneuvers through the arcade towards Kisaki. Eventually, he finds a spot behind one of the arcade games that gives him coverage to remain hidden while within earshot of the group.

They watch as one of the bigger guys shoots his toy gun towards the screen, an intense look on his face, the other boys surrounding him cheering him on in the process. Kisaki’s expression remains neutral, as always. They remain like this for a while longer, and Mitsuya starts to believe his efforts are useless. About ready to return to his girlfriend, he pauses when he hears something that piques his interest.

“I bet Kisaki can’t wait to pull the trigger on Mikey, am I right?” One of the Leviathans nudges him playfully, pointing at the gun.

Kisaki shoves him away aggressively, glaring at him. “Shut up. Don’t say such stupid things out in public.”

“Hey, there’s no one here but us, man! Chill!”

He grabs him by the scruff, fingers clenched tightly to his collar. “Oh? Is that what you think, you fucking imbecile? For your information, Hanma is greeting a fellow Toman brother right now.”

Struggling to speak with Kisaki’s knuckles against his throat, he croaks, “Who?”

“Takashi Mitsuya.”

At his name, Mitsuya leaves his spot, sprinting back to the prize room in a panic. He’s an absolute idiot to think that they didn’t notice him earlier. An even bigger idiot for leaving Hana alone, vulnerable to Hanma. But he has no idea who she is, right? There’s no way he could know. He vividly recalls the meeting from a few weeks ago. I guess I’ll just have to find out who Shimizu is myself. The subtle threat from his sleazy mouth. What could that asshole possibly want with her? Mitsuya is too afraid to find out.

On his way, he catches Hanma exiting the prize room with that signature smug smirk. “Little Taka, fancy meeting you here.”

Mitsuya glares at him. “Hanma.”

He points his thumb behind him, over his shoulder. “Finally got a chance to meet your precious Shimizu. I can see why you’ve been hiding her from us. She’s a really good girl.”

Mitsuya’s fists are unbearably tight at his sides, trembling with anger. He’s on the verge of swinging, wanting to see his ugly mug all scrunched up from his fist. However, he manages to control himself. Through gritted teeth, he growls, “Leave her alone.”

Hanma holds both hands up to him in false surrender. “Hey, I was just being polite. Saw you earlier, enjoying your cute date, thought I’d say hello. Oh, and Kisaki sends his warm regards.”

The urge to inflict violence upon the man in front of him is getting more and more difficult to suppress with each slimy word that comes out of his mouth. He’s incapable of formulating a coherent response, body shaking with rage. He always planned to keep Toman away from her as much as possible, thinking that’d be her safest option. Now, she’s become acquainted to it and in the worst way possible.

Hanma forces a chuckle. “You better get back to sweet Hana, now. Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting any longer or someone else might just come along and take her.” He shoves past him, hitting his shoulder hard with his own.

Before he can walk away, Mitsuya grabs him by the collar, tugging him close, voice low and threatening. “Don’t fucking talk about her. Don’t fucking look at her. Don’t even fucking think about her. Got it?”

Hanma laughs maniacally, clearly enjoying this side of Little Taka. “If you mind your business, we’ll mind ours.”

Mitsuya releases him, watching him disappear into the crowd of people without exchanging anymore words. He’s attempts to collect himself, returning to Hana, who stands at one of the corners, still inspecting the prizes. When she sees him, she smiles, seemingly unfazed. “Everything okay?”

For a moment, Mitsuya believes that all of it was a bluff. He slides his hand around her waist, pulling her in close. “Yeah. You?”

She rests her head on his shoulder. “Yeah. I met one of your Toman brothers. Shuji Hanma. He seems…nice.” There it is. The falter in her voice. The hesitation. The lie.

Deciding that now is not the time to discuss it, Mitsuya nods, not saying anything else.

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