#if you're not familiar w/ the characters:

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 25 - 'For You' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.9 k

Layla had left, and with her went the familiar comfort she always brought. You felt a sudden pang of loneliness settle in your chest, even though you weren’t alone. Most of the boys were still there, a few lingering outside, their chatter and laughter filling the air. You leaned up against a chair, watching the group. Your eyes drifted to Jack, and your mind began to race. Layla had planted a seed—how was tonight going to go? Was this your moment to act natural with Trent in front of Jack? Or was there some unspoken rule you hadn’t caught onto yet? It felt strange, like you were walking a tightrope. You didn’t know the plan—didn’t even know if there was a plan. But you felt uneasy, caught between the newness of this dynamic and the familiarity of the people around you. Slowly, you made your way over to Trent. You slipped your hands around his strong bicep, seeking reassurance more than anything else. He looked down at you, and the warm smile that spread across his face made your chest feel lighter, if only for a moment.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture was natural, instinctive, but it sent a ripple of awareness through you. You wondered what their friend he was talking to thought. You were caught in your own head, drowning in overthinking.  "Everything alright?" Trent's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him looking at you earnestly, his expression soft, his eyes full of concern as he took you in. You smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, just said bye to Layla." You explained masking. He pulled you in a little closer, his hand moving to the small of your back. The boys decided to head inside, and Trent took a step to follow them, his hand staying in its place on your lower back. It was a subtle motion, one that spoke volumes about the way he claimed you, even in the smallest of ways. He guided you gently, expecting you to follow. But to Trent’s surprise, you didn’t. You grabbed his hand, halting his movement. He turned back to you, his brows furrowing slightly in question. 

“What’s up, baby?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear, mildly confused why you stopped. You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced at Jack across the patio. He was laughing at something Noah said as they walked inside, oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted quietly, your eyes searching Trent’s for guidance. Trent’s expression softened immediately. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek gently. 

“You don’t have to do anything, yeah? Just stay with me. That’s all.” He smirked. And you wanted to but you were anxious. 

“But Jack…” you trailed off, glancing over at your brother again.

“Jack knows now, baby,” Trent said simply, his tone steady. “It’s okay. He might not love it, but he’s okay with it. I promise. He’s just… adjusting, that’s all. It'll take time.” He explained gently. You nodded, though the knot in your stomach didn’t completely ease.

“It just feels… weird. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” You admitted. Trent leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. 

“You’re not. And if he’s got a problem, he’ll tell me, not you. Alright?” He whispered. You nodded again, exhaling softly as his words began to settle. “C’mon,” Trent said with a small smile, squeezing your hand still entwined with his. “Let’s go inside. I’ll stay close, yeah?” He attempted to step forward again. You appreciated it, but you just wanted another minute alone with him… actually a few more moments sounded a lot better than one and then as you looked at Trent, his tanned skin glowing under the moonlight in only his swimshorts, an idea popped into your head.  

"T..." you cooed softly, your voice dripping with mischief. Your wide, doe-like eyes tried to feign innocence, but the playful smirk on your lips gave you away instantly. Trent looked down at you, his brow raising slightly as his own lips twitched into a knowing grin. 

"I know that look. What do you need, pretty girl?" he teased, stepping closer until there was no space left between you. His hand found its favorite place of the evening, resting possessively on your ass.

"Do you wanna go swimming with me?" you asked, your voice light and sweet. Trent's smile widened into something blinding, his lips curling up, his eyes squinting as his teeth peeked through. It was a signature Trent full smile-the kind that made your heart flutter every time.

"Yeah," he said without hesitation, his hand giving your ass a squeeze. "I'll do anything with you. C'mon." The night had cooled, the garden lights casting a soft glow over the patio and illuminating the still surface of the pool. You stepped in first, the water biting against your warm skin. You shivered but took another step before diving in fully. Trent followed cautiously, dipping one foot in and immediately tensing.

 "Oh my days, baby. Nah, it's too cold, you know," he said, his voice half-laughing as he stopped dead on the first step.

"C'mon, baby! What happened to anything?" you teased, your voice carrying across the water. You floated toward him, the lights reflecting off your wet skin, making it glisten. Trent looked at you, his cheeks dimpling as his smile turned cheeky. 

"Baby... it's cold as shit," he quipped, his eyes flicking down briefly before meeting yours again. He hadn't moved, and at first, you thought he was just being a wuss. But then his gaze dipped again back down to his shorts, a silent explanation, and then it clicked. Your own cheeks flushed slightly, a soft laugh escaping you. 

"Oh..." you murmured, realization dawning. You waded over to the edge of the pool and climbed out, water cascading off your body in shimmering rivulets. Trent's breath hitched slightly, and he reached out instinctively, his big hands finding your waist.

"Cold water and I’ve got you looking like this? Nah, not fair at all," he muttered under his breath, his fingers trailing over your wet skin. He hummed softly, a sound that vibrated between you, his hands warming your chilled body.

"I would've kept you warm. You should've followed me in," you teased, leaning closer.

"Trust me, I had planned to," he murmured, his eyes tracing the droplets of water running down your collarbone. "But this bikini..." He shook his head in disbelief at the way you looked, his hands sliding down to your hips. "It's too much for me and you’re asking me to get in there?" He looked at you pleadingly. You smirked, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Driving me mad tonight, you know?" Trent let out a dramatic sigh, glancing at the pool and then back at you. 

"Always," you replied, stepping back toward the water with a giggle in an attempt to lure him in this time. He watched you with another shake of his head, his resolve crumbling but he pulled your arm back towards him. Trent smirked, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint as he nodded toward the hot tub, still covered and untouched at the corner of the garden.

"At least give me a fair playing field here, baby," he teasingly pleaded, his lips curling into that devastatingly smug smile that always made your knees weak. You followed his gaze to the hot tub and then back at him, tilting your head. 

"I don't even know how to turn it on... or take that cover off," you admitted with a small pout. It was true-Jack or one of the boys always dealt with it. The mechanics of the thing were completely foreign to you.

"Baby, baby, baby," Trent drawled, his voice dripping with affection as he walked toward the control unit by the edge of the pool. "You act like I haven't been here a hundred times before. C'mon now." You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued but unsure of what he was planning. "Do me a favor and unzip that f'me," he added, nodding toward the zipper of the hot tub cover with a cheeky grin. Your lips parted in mock disbelief at the audacity of his request to ask you to do anything, asking you to put in work, but the look on his face was too irresistible. You rolled your eyes playfully before crouching down by the hot tub, reaching for the zipper. Trent's attention flicked back to you, and he couldn't help but smirk as he caught sight of you squatting there, focused on the task. As you slowly unzipped the cover, Trent turned toward the control unit, flicking a few switches like it was second nature. Over his shoulder, he shot you another cheeky smile. "C'mon, now, lift it up," he called out instructions, laughing softly. You grabbed the edge of the cover with one hand, careful not to damage your nails, and gave it a tug. To your surprise, the weight of it didn't budge, and the resistance yanked you forward slightly, forcing a soft gasp from your lips. You stumbled, catching yourself before you fell completely. Your eyes darted up to Trent, who had turned just in time to see your struggle. His laugh was immediate, low and rich.

"It's heavy, T," you whined, your bottom lip rolling out in a pout as you stepped back from the cover. You weren't even trying to hide the puppy-dog stare you were giving him, the kind you'd mastered over the years. Trent's brow lifted, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. This wasn't new. He knew this game-he'd seen it time and time again, in fact he’d played it time and time again. You could easily lift the cover if you wanted to. You worked out, you were strong enough, but one half-hearted attempt followed by that look always had him crumbling.

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Heavy," he muttered a tease with a dramatic eye roll, his smirk never faltering. "So too heavy for my pretty girl?" he teased, crouching down next to you and brushing a strand of wet hair away from your face. You pouted, your bottom lip jutting out slightly.

"You didn't warn me it weighed a ton." You complained. Trent chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your pouty lips. 

"That's why you've got me, yeah?" He stood back up, grabbing the edge of the cover with one hand. He effortlessly picked up the cover, lifting it with ease and tossing it aside. You watched, amused and a little smug, as the bubbling water beneath came into view.  "Easy," he said, flexing a little just to be cheeky. 

"You're so strong, T," you said with a dramatic swoon, wrapping your arms around his bicep and batting your lashes at him.

"And you're so full of shit," he shot back, his teasing smile breaking into a laugh as he glanced down at you. You giggled, stepping into the hot tub first, the warm water instantly melting away the chill of the night air. You shivered slightly as the steam rose around you, and before you could fully settle, Trent climbed in right after you. His big hands found your waist almost immediately, pulling you back into him. 

"C'mere," he cooed, his voice soft as he shifted you into his lap. "You okay?" You nodded, leaning your head back against his chest, the contrast between the cold night air and the hot water making your body relax completely. "Much nicer, no?" he teased, his cheek brushing against your temple as he smiled down at you.

"Much," you murmured, turning in his lap before your hands sliding over his chest. The slick water ran under your palms, gliding over the hard planes of his pecs. Trent hummed softly, his hands roaming over your hips and thighs beneath the water. His thumbs drew small, lazy circles on your skin, his touch making you feel like the only person in the world. You were now facing him, your eyes meeting his. His gaze was warm and heavy, his smile soft but full of something deeper. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his in a slow, tender kiss that spoke more than words ever could. "Better now?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw as you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

"Always better with you," he murmured, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he kissed you again, this time with a little more heat. The bubbling water swirled around you, but it was nothing compared to the way Trent made you feel-completely and utterly adored. You straddled Trent's lap, the warm water bubbling around you as you locked eyes with him. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, gliding over your waist and thighs under the water. Every touch sent little sparks through your skin, leaving you completely breathless. "Look so sexy, baby," he whispered, his voice low and rich as his lips pressed against your jaw. He kissed his way to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe and pulling it gently between his teeth. Your breath hitched, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as heat flooded your body. Your hands draped around his shoulders, your fingers tracing slow circles on the back of his neck as you arched into him. Trent's kisses trailed down your neck, lingering on your collarbone before moving lower, his lips leaving a path of fire as he kissed your damp skin. "You were killing me today," he murmured against you, his breath warm and teasing. He pressed his lips just above the curve of your bikini top, his hands sliding up your sides to settle just under your chest. "I really, really hate this," he mumbled, pushing the triangles of fabric aside to reveal your bare skin. "About time you take it off f’me, yeah?" Your heart pounded as his thumbs brushed over your exposed nipples, making you whimper softly. You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you reached behind your neck to untie the top.

"All the way off," you hummed, letting the material fall away and float aimlessly in the bubbling water. Trent's gaze darkened, his eyes locking on your bare chest as his thumbs continued to tease you, his touch light but electrifying.

"Such a good girl," he whispered, his voice a little raspier now. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss that made your toes curl. His hands roamed freely now, his palms sliding up your back and pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless. You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers threading through his damp curls at the top of his head as the heat between you grew. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word from Trent made the world outside the hot tub melt away, leaving only the two of you lost in each other. He rolled your nipples in his fingers, pinching them ever so slightly now and then to make you squirm.

“T, I want you.” You whimpered, desperate for more of him. Even without Trent touching your pussy, you were completely a mess for him. You didn’t need foreplay tonight.   

“I got you, baby.” He whispered. His voice low, only for you, padded only by the sound of the bubbles. His hand slipped under the water and pulled the string of your bikini bottoms. You were completely naked for him perched on his lap. Trent took his time kissing your neck, making sure you knew how perfect you were with each kiss. He snuck one hand under you. You gasped into his mouth, his kiss muffling the noise. Slightly and subconsciously you began to grind against his hand.

“Please, fuck me.” You begged. It was like when he turned on the hot tub, he turned your switches on along with it. It didn’t take long. A bit of teasing from Trent, your hands eager to get to him and suddenly, you were sinking down on his cock. You gasped as a mixture of pleasure and pain washed over you. Trent was big, and you could feel every inch of him stretching you, claiming you as his own. You moved at a torturously slow rate. You wanted to feel him. Trent’s breath hitched reveling in how you felt around him. He’d never get over it. It was special. It was perfect every time.  You could barely keep your head up with the pleasure and stretch. You dropped your head, laying in the crook of Trent’s neck. You bit down on his sensitive skin with heavy breaths as he filled you to the hilt.

“So good f’me baby. Feel so fucking good. This pussy’s perfect.” Trent babbled, biting on your ear lobe as you began to ride him. You moaned as you created the perfect rhythm, you didn’t have the consciousness for it at the moment, but you were pretty sure any of the boys remotely near the windows inside would’ve been able to hear you two but you wouldn’t have cared. Trent certainly didn’t, it felt too good, your brains fogged by the rising steam in the hot tub and eachother.   

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined, clenching tighter around him, eliciting a sinful groan from him. Trent was hypnotized by your body as you began to ride him. You shut your eyes tight with your mouth agape as your tits bounced. The sight of you falling a part on him in the water was enough to make him cum. You flashed your eyes up to look at him in desperation. The look in your eyes made Trent tense again. His big hands moved to palm your ass, squeezing it and kneading it beneath the water. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you.

"That's it, take all of me, baby. Doing do good," he grunted, his voice filled with primal desire as his length slid in and out of you. "Fuck! You're so tight around me, baby. I love seeing you like this." Trent’s eyes were lit up completely engrossed at the sight of you, wet, desperate, and drenched in moonlight.  You moaned, your body responding to his. The pleasure was intense, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The hot water lapped at your bodies, adding a sensual touch to the roughness of his possession. Trent's hands held you firmly, his fingers digging into your ass as he guided your movements, his hips meeting yours half way, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Trent's fingers found your sensitive clit, desperate to push you. He began to rub it in firm circles, his touch successfully sending you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure coursed through you.

"Fuck, fuck! T! I’m cumming.” You whined, with a pout unable to stop your high from crashing over you.  Your body shook as the waves of pleasure consumed you. Trent's thrusts became more urgent, and you knew he was close to his own release. His eyes were wild with passion, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. As your tongues danced, you could taste the heat of his desire. Trent's kiss was demanding, possessive, and it only added to the intensity of the moment. He broke the kiss, his breath coming in short pants as he stared into your eyes.

“That’s it, I got you, baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw need. You caught his lips curve into a soft smile before your eyes fluttered closed. You moaned his name again and again. “Cum for me one more time. Just relax, pretty girl. Cum for me.” His words vibrated against you. You nodded, your heart pounding in anticipation. Trent's dominance and his desire to claim you completely were exactly what you craved. 

“T…” You whimpered. You held onto him tightly, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as you felt his cock twitch inside you. You felt white hot pleasure crashed over you. A symphony of whines flowed out of you with every bounce on his cock as he drew out another orgasm.

”Good girl. Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight.” He grunted torn between not wanting this to stop and the undeniable physical urge to finish. You could only manage another whine, too focused on the slow drag of his cock, you could feel every hard vein and ridge of it slowly fucking into you.

“Please.” It came out as a whisper, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock, the friction of his solid stomach against your clit under the water as you grinded against him. 

“I gotcha, gonna cum, yeah? I’m gonna cum. Fuck, baby. You’re fucking perfect, your pussy’s so perfect for me, made for my cock.” Trent spoke between heaving breaths as his fingers dug into your skin and his head falling into your tits, as he pushed his hips up one last time before he spilled into your tight heat. Trent's body stiffened as you felt his hot cum filling you, his release triggering another wave of pleasure in your sensitive pussy. Trent rolled his eyes at the way you gently moved your hips against his to help him ride out his high.  “Oh my god, Y/N.”  He groaned as you clenched around him. You didn’t want him to pull out yet. You gripped your fingers on his hair and massaged his scalp with your nails, causing Trent to hum in contentment, whilst his hands caressed your back in soothing motions. “My good fucking girl. Hmm? So fucking sexy.” He whispered as he pulled you tight to his chest. 

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, the world outside of the hot tub slipping away entirely; unable to separate, unable to pull your body off his, and Trent unable to let you go either.  Trent’s hands never left your body, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other caressing your thigh under the water. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, feeling safe, warm, and utterly content in his hold. His fingers tracing lazy circles along your skin, grounding you further with each gentle motion.

“I love you,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you so much, pretty girl,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. His voice was low, tender, and filled with a kind of reassurance that made your heart ache. You turned your head slightly, looking up at him. His dark eyes gazed back at you with so much warmth, and you couldn’t help but lean up to capture his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He hummed against your mouth, a deep sound of contentment that vibrated through your chest. But the moment was shattered by the loud laughter echoing from inside the house, pulling you both back to reality. Your cheeks flushed as you realized how long you’d been wrapped up in each other. You looked at him and he smiled realizing that it was time to go.

“Whoops!” You giggled with a shy smile, grabbing your bikini from the tiling besides the hot tub behind Trent. Trent let out a small chuckle, his thumb brushing against your hip. 

“You sure you want to put that on?” He asked you with a cheeky grin as his chest still rapidly rose and fell, knackered after sex that felt more like a workout. 

“Do you want me to go inside like this?” You raised your brow teasingly as you tied the side of your bikini bottom back on. Trent laughed breathily. He reached out to you and pulled you into him.

“Nah. When you’re like this, you’re just for me.” He whispered, pressing his nose against yours. You nodded hesitantly. A part of you recalled Josh saying those very words, using them to gaslight you, and yet when Trent said it, it felt different. 

“Just for you?” You asked softly and inquisitively, your voice barely above a whisper. You prayed he would be nothing like Josh. When Josh said it, it meant, you only were for him, yet he could still do as he pleased, aka see other girls. Trent's words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. A part of you felt vulnerable asking such a question, afraid of the answer, of what it could mean. Josh's words from the past haunted you, a constant reminder of control disguised as affection. But Trent-he wasn't Josh.

"Yeah, just for me," Trent said firmly, his voice gentle but unwavering. He ran his hands purposefully over your damp skin, tracing the curves of your waist like he was memorizing every inch of you. "This is private—me and you. No one else. No one gets to see you like this but me." His gaze locked onto yours, dark and steady, filled with something raw and unspoken. He paused, his thumbs brushing over your hips as if grounding you. "This body's sacred. And as long as you’re in it,” He smirked hoping you’d maybe crack a smile at a little joke but you were stoic, terrified to trust him. “I'll take care of you. Always." He reminded you. 

"Oh..." you whimpered, your throat tightening as the sincerity of his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket. It wasn't possessive; it wasn't controlling. It was reverence-something you weren't used to but craved deeply. You couldn't help the tear that slipped down your cheek, overwhelmed by the difference. "You mean that?" you asked shakily, needing to hear it again, to be reassured.

"I mean it,' he said, his voice gentle but firm. He cupped your face, his fingers warm against your cheeks. "It's me and you, baby. Just us. I've got you." The sincerity in his eyes made you feel like the safest person in the world. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face into the curve of his shoulder. He pulled you in even closer, his large hands sliding up your back, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. You let out a shaky breath, finally finding the courage to let the moment soothe the part of you that had doubted. 

"Okay," you murmured against his skin.

“And I’m just for you. You’re the only one that gets me, pretty girl. Gets my attention, gets me to lift hot tub covers off, gets me to cuddle during films, gets me to kiss goodnight, you name it. Only you get it. Only you.” He told you earnestly. Your eyes got a bit glossy so Trent paused. He sympathetically smiled at you. “That alright with you?” He asked patiently, knowing this wasn’t easy. 

 "I like it that way. Just us." You weakly told him. Trent pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so you were looking at him again. His thumb brushed against your jaw before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Good. It's not gonna be any other way." He smirked. You nodded, smiling softly. 

"So... bikini on?" you asked with a cheeky grin, breaking the moment's intensity.

"Till I get you in bed, yeah," Trent teased, his lips twitching into that signature smile. His hands moved to your waist again, giving you a playful squeeze. "But just remember-only me, alright? Don't want all the other lads getting jealous." He cooed. You giggled, draping your arms around him tighter, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

"Only you," you promised, letting yourself believe in the love he was offering, trusting in the safety of his words. As you buried your face into Trent’s neck, his arms tightened around you protectively, the heat from the hot tub lingering on your skin. 

“I mean it, you know,” he murmured softly, his breath warm against your temple. “This is our world, just me and you. No one else matters when I have you like this.” He confessed. You let out a shaky breath, your heart swelling at his words. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had this,” you whispered against his neck, your voice trembling slightly. “Someone who just…wants me, for me. I didn’t think I could have this.” You shyly told him. Trent leaned back slightly to look at you, his hands cradling your face. 

“You've always had me. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N,” he said earnestly, his deep brown eyes locked onto yours. “You don’t have to be scared, yeah? I’ll never make you feel like you’re not enough. Never. Because you are a fucking dream to me. I want you, every little bit.” He whispered kissing your skin again and again, emphasizing that he wanted every bit. You nodded slowly, your tears threatening to spill again. But this time, they weren’t tears of pain or fear—they were tears of gratitude, of relief. You hadn’t felt this safe in someone’s arms… ever.

“C’mon, pretty girl” Trent whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Let’s get inside before I change my mind about letting you put that bikini back on.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood, and you couldn’t help but giggle softly, wiping at your eyes.

“Fine, but you’re carrying me, there are always slugs by the pool at night this late,” you teasingly instructed, leaning back into him, your hands lacing around his neck. He rolled his eyes with a little laugh you wished you could bottle and keep forever.

“Yeah, yeah, so it’s the slugs now, huh?” He smiled at you. You rolled your bottom lip pleadingly. “Do whatever you want. I always will,” he said, scooping you up effortlessly in the hot tub. He stood up as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, the cool night air biting at your skin as he stepped out of the hot tub, with you in his arms. He carried you inside, his chest rising and falling steadily against you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed things could actually be okay.

Trent hesitated, his hand lingering on the small of your back as you both quietly slipped into the house. He looked down at you, his brow furrowed slightly, caught in a silent debate.

“Hey, baby. Can I just go grab a water quick? Then I’ll meet you up there,” he murmured softly, his voice gentle but distracted. You tilted your head at him, seeing right through his attempt to sidestep the real issue. 

“You can go ask him, T,” you said quietly, your pout making it impossible for him to avoid your gaze. You were nervous about tonight as well, but you could tell Trent felt like he needed to do things right. That he was walking somehow on an even thinner tightrope. That if there was a misstep, he would feel at fault. It was sweet, you liked knowing he cared but you also felt a bit guilty. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced toward the hallway that led to the cinema, where he knew Jack was still sitting with Noah. He didn’t want to overstep, even if the thought of not being by your side tonight was inconceivable. Even if Jack said no, he knew he was weak for you, that he'd find a way to be with you and that's exactly why he needed to go above board tonight.

“Baby…” he started, his tone unsure. You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you looked up at him. Trent was going to stay in your room no matter what, but he also didn’t want to go to bed feeling like a snake either. 

“As long as you are going to come back and sleep with me, T, go. I know you, I know you want to do it right.” You smiled at him sympathetically. “You’re the sweetest, baby.” You cooed softly. “So if it’s bothering you, you can go talk it over with your best friend,” you said softly, stroking your fingers over his back in slow, soothing circles. Trent let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. 

“You know me too well, pretty girl,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I just… I don’t want to be a dick about it, yeah? I know this is all new for him, for everyone.” He unnecessarily explained. You nodded, understanding. 

“He’ll get it. He knows how much you mean to me. How much I love you.” You told him, although you were saying it mostly to convince yourself that Jack would understand. Trent hummed, leaning his forehead against yours for a moment before stepping back. 

“Alright, wait for me upstairs, please. Gotta go tell your brother how much I love you.” He smirked. You smiled, brushing a quick kiss over his lips before turning to head up the stairs.  

Trent made his way into the cinema room, his heart pounding slightly. Jack and Noah were mid-conversation, a half-empty beer in front of each of them. They both looked up as Trent stepped into the room, and Jack raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this was going.

“Alright, mate?” Jack asked, leaning back in his chair, pausing the show on the screen. Trent nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. 

“Yeah, bro…” Trent said softly as he stepped into the dimly lit room. Jack hadn’t gone to bed yet—he couldn’t, he was afraid of what he might hear if he were to go up before you. So to save himself, he sacrificed sleep and instead roped Noah into a marathon of a show he knew he’d stay awake for. They were sitting there, the glow of the now paused screen illuminating their faces. Jack was patient, he had subconsciously hoped this would be Trent’s move tonight, getting his approval, so he waited, but Noah immediately nodded his head, cueing Trent to say something. Trent ran a hand over his face attempting to compose himself after Noah's nudge. “Just wanted to, erm… check in.” Trent spoke vaguely. Noah smirked, taking a sip of his beer and leaning back to watch the exchange unfold.

“Check in?” Jack repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. “She okay?” Jack asked, concern evident in his voice. His thoughts immediately jumped to you—had you gotten upset again? Why was Trent being so weird?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Trent nodded quickly, easing Jack’s worry. “She’s fine.” But the way Trent shifted nervously on his feet, fidgeting slightly with his hands, didn’t go unnoticed. Jack’s brows furrowed. 

“Are you, bro?” he asked, with a subtle smile. It was soft though, not teasing. Jack was confused by the sudden change in Trent’s demeanor. 

“Uh…” Trent hesitated, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Noah grinned enjoying this. He wasn't sure he had seen Trent this awkward since they were little boys. “No, I guess. I just wanted to, uh, make sure it’s cool with you if I’m in her room tonight.” The words came out awkwardly, and Trent’s usual calm and confident demeanor seemed to falter. He was clearly uneasy, and Jack picked up on it instantly. Jack leaned back in his seat, smirking a little. 

“Trentski, I’m not her dad,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood. Noah laughed. He had comments and jokes at the ready but he could feel Trent’s nerves radiating off him. So he bit his tongue. But when Trent didn’t laugh, Jack realized he wasn’t joking around. He sighed, sitting up straighter. He knew what this was about, he understood it. As much as he didn’t want to be, Jack had been like a parental figure to you in a lot of ways. It wasn’t just about Trent staying in your room—it was about respect, about boundaries, and about making sure this wasn’t going to mess up the delicate balance of their lives. He appreciated Trent for acknowledging it, even if it stayed just under the surface. Jack took a deep breath before speaking again. “Mate, it’s fine. I actually will kill you if I hear anything but… it’s fine. If it’s you, it’s all good. You’ve got her.” Jack explained earnestly, accepting the fate that his best mate would be up in his little sister’s room. At least it was Trent, he tried to rationalize with himself.

“Yeah, just, you know…” Trent trailed off, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Trent nodded once over taking in what Jack had said, visibly relieved but still fidgeting. “Mate, I just didn’t want you to feel like I’ve dropped caring about you or us because I’m with her,” he said earnestly. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’ve lost me or something.” Trent admitted. Jack paused at that. He hadn’t expected Trent to say something like that, and it hit him harder than he anticipated. He valued that more than he was willing to vocalize tonight so he shoved the unexpected emotion down, taking a swig of his beer to buy himself a second.

“Nah, bro. I appreciate it,” Jack said, his voice genuine. “We’re cool. Like I said, I just don’t want to hear it. Trust me, I know it’s happening.” He forced a laugh, trying to mask how weird it still was for him to think about Trent and you together. Noah chuckled first, Trent quick to follow, his shoulders relaxing a bit more. 

“Thanks, mate. Love you,” he said, leaning down to dap Jack up, their handshake turning into a brief hug.

“All good. Love you, bro,” Jack said, shaking his head as Trent walked out. He stayed seated for a moment longer, staring at the screen but not really watching it. He appreciated Trent coming down to ask—it showed he cared. But still, Jack wasn’t quite sure how he’d survive a whole summer of this, let alone a lifetime without losing his mind. Noah raised his brows with a smug smirk leaning back in his chair suppressing a laugh. Jack heard the stifled chuckle. “Noah, say one fucking thing…” Jack threatened him knowing there were a million teasing remarks at the ready. Noah just raised his hands in innocence with a cheeky giggle thinking the whole thing was quite amusing. 

When Trent opened the door, you were already curled up in bed, propped against a pile of pillows, the glow of your bedside lamp casting a warm light on your features. You smiled up at him as he stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

“All sorted,” he murmured, his voice low as he crossed the room, his eyes softening the moment they landed on you.

“Did you get bestie’s approval?” you teased, your lips curling into a sly grin. You sat up, watching him as he made his way to your bed. “Told you it’d be fine,” you added with a knowing smirk. Trent rolled his eyes playfully, crouching slightly as he rested his hands on the edge of the bed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his tone laced with fondness. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your hair, the familiar gesture sending a wave of warmth through you.

“I still have to shower….” you murmured, your voice taking on a teasing lilt. Your eyes lit up with faux innocence as you smirked up at him. “But I was waiting for you.” Trent raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into an amused grin. 

“Nah, see, you’re gonna get me in trouble!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Please,” you giggled, reaching out to grab his arms, tugging at him playfully. 

“Ah, yeah, fine, only because you waited for me,” he teased, sarcasm dripping from his words as he let you pull him closer. You flashed him a beaming smile, your laughter filling the room. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he said with a low laugh, bending down to scoop you up into his arms effortlessly. You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you toward the ensuite. His grip on you was secure, his warmth seeping into your skin as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck.

“Shhh, I’m serious, gonna get me in trouble,” he murmured, his lips curled into a smile brushed against your temple.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get into maybe just a little bit of trouble tonight with me, baby?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He chuckled softly, shaking his head, his chest vibrating against yours as he pushed the bathroom door open with his foot. 

“Fucks sake,” he laughed, setting you down gently on the cool tiles. Trent knew he was cooked, he couldn't resist you. He’d spent too many years dreaming of getting invited up, he wasn’t going to waste it now. 

The morning light spilled softly through your curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. You stirred awake to the sound of steady, rhythmic breathing and the comforting weight of Trent’s arm draped around your waist. His chest rose and fell against your cheek, and you could feel the heat of his body pressed into yours. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and let out a quiet sigh. The night before had been so full of emotion, laughter, and a bit of chaos, but here, in the stillness of your room, it was just the two of you. Trent’s presence was grounding, and you found yourself tracing lazy patterns on his forearm with your nails, smiling faintly at how calm he looked in his sleep. You tilted your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his face. His hair was messy and his lips were slightly parted as he slept. He looked peaceful, boyish almost, and it made your heart ache in the best way. The soft movement of your fingers must have stirred him because Trent let out a low hum, his arm tightening around your waist. 

“Mmm… morning, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough from sleep. You smiled at the sound, nuzzling your face against his chest. 

“Morning,” you whispered back, your voice soft and sweet. Trent shifted slightly, pressing his lips to the top of your head in a lazy kiss. 

“How long have you been up?” he asked, his hand slipping under the hem of his shirt you nicked last night after a cheeky shared shower to rest on the warm skin of your stomach.

“Not long,” you replied, your voice still hushed. “Just… thinking.” You cooed.

“Thinking about what, baby?” he asked, his voice curious but gentle as his fingers traced small circles on your skin.

“About how nice this feels,” you admitted shyly, your cheeks warming. Trent chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Excited for breakfast with your bestie?” You hummed with a sleepy soft giggle. 

“Breakfast with you? Yeah, always.” Trent cooed, rubbing his hands up and down your back. His voice was quieter now, more sincere. You shifted slightly in his arms to look at him, his face still relaxed but his brown eyes now focused entirely on you.

“No.” You giggled. “Jack, baby,” you murmured, reminding Trent as your fingers brushing against his jawline. You were teasing him about waking up at your house, with your brother aka his best friend just down the hall. He smiled with a shake of the head, leaning down to kiss your forehead before pulling you closer against him, his legs tangling with yours under the blanket. 

“Eh, not interested, got you.” He whispered, cupping your cheek and tilting your face upwards to kiss your sleepy pouty lips. 

“I’m telling him you said that.” You giggled again teasing him. You began to pretend as if you were going to get out of bed to go tell Jack but he held you down to him playfully.  

“Nah, Nah, can’t do that. Shhh!” He hushed you with a cheeky quiet laugh.  The room filled with soft laughter as you squirmed playfully against Trent’s hold. His deep chuckles vibrated through his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him despite your faux protests. 

“What, baby?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him, your lips curling into a smirk with a furrowed brow. Trent pulled you roughly tighter into him until your faces were mere inches apart. 

“Shhh, need you to be quiet.” He hushed you with a smile, kissing you, wrapping his arms tighter around you, refusing to let you move. You shook your head in defiance. "My best friend told me he’d kill me if he heard us.”  Trent admitted with a sly grin. He laughed a little seeing your cheeky smile unable to hold it in.  He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. “So shhh,” he whispered again, his tone playful. You arched a brow, mischief dancing in your eyes. 

“Oh, so you’re worried about noise? I think I remember someone who wasn’t so quiet last night in the shower,” you teased, your voice low but full of cheek. Trent’s ears turned a faint shade of pink as he chuckled, shaking his head.

 “Alright, alright, but that’s on you, not me,” he muttered. Your jaw slacked offended he’d try to place the blame on you. He smiled loving that he knew exactly how to get under your skin. “Hey, pretty girl, you’re the one who makes me feel that good, baby. Not my fault and to be honest, I’d rather face a right hook from Jack than give you up last night.” He smirked with some cheek.

“Hmm,” you hummed sarcastically with a roll of the eyes, acting as if you didn’t believe him. You tried to roll away once more out of his arms.

“Nah, serious!” He yelped playful yet desperate to get you to believe him. Trent’s hands found your waist, his strong grip easily pinning you back down against his chest before you could make your escape. He got closer to you, dropping his forehead to rest against yours. “This fucking pussy has me a complete mess. Do anything to have more of you. I need you, baby.” He whispered, dropping his voice and octave lower as his lips ghosted over yours. 

“Wow.” You giggled at the serious look on his face. “Well maybe I should make sure your old besties know they’ve been replaced, all because you just like getting your dick wet.” You teased, your lips brushing over his as you spoke. Trent kissed his teeth. 

“Nah, c’mere. You know you’re more than that to me.” His big hand came up and grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you into a messy kiss. You pulled away with a stupid grin and a giggle. “You know I love you, just being with you, and seeing that smile.” Trent shot you the most dangerous smile in return. It was conniving and mocking and beautiful. Your heart faltered at how pretty he was but also how much he genuinely care about you. That you weren't just a body to him. Trent giggled before he spoke again. The childish little boy laugh you'd heard your whole life. You raised your brows awaiting his next words because clearly he thought they were funny. “But it also doesn't hurt if I get to have my hands on this perfect body, take all these clothes off, have my lips all over you, be inside that pretty pussy, seeing you whining for me, making you cum over and over… That’s not so bad, little bit more than getting my dick wet, but… If you ever want to let me just get my dick wet, I won’t stop ya.” He smirked smugly. Your eyes widened with faux offense.

“So I should tell them that instead?” You asked teasingly.

“Not a chance, pretty girl,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours as his fingers tickled your sides, earning a squeal from you. You wiggled and giggled against him, completely wrapped in his hold.

“Okay! Okay! T! Stop, I won’t tell them! Baby!!” you finally cried out between laughs, breathless and flushed.

“Good,” Trent said with a satisfied smirk, his hands stilling on your waist. He looked at you for a moment, his smile softening as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “Because I don’t care about them. Just want to be with you.” He confessed. Your laughter quieted as your heart melted at his words. You leaned down, kissing him softly, your fingers tangling in his curls. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, baby,” you murmured against his lips.

“And I’m so lucky you love me, pretty girl,” he whispered back, his voice full of affection, pulling you back down into his arms as the morning sun filtered through your curtains. You hummed as you nestled into him, letting his words and the steady rhythm of his breathing soothe you. For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter—it was just you and Trent, cocooned in the warmth of each other. 

“T!” you squealed, sprinting down the stairs, your laugh echoing through the house as Trent chased after you, his fingers darting out to pinch your side. The silly morning you were having with him, filled with cheeky jokes, and sloppy kisses didn’t stay confined to your bedroom. You hadn't dropped the idea of telling Noah and Jack you'd replaced them as Trent's best friend.

“Baby! Don’t throw me under the bus, hmm?” Trent yelped, catching you at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. You squirmed in his hold, your laughter spilling out as he spun you around like a rag doll. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he pressed kisses to your neck, playfully, his stubble tickling your skin.

In the kitchen, Noah and Jack exchanged looks over their mugs of coffee, the sound of your giggles and Trent’s playful hums breaking the morning’s quiet. Noah’s smirk grew wide, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a comment. Jack, on the other hand, merely shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line. You and Trent attempted to compose yourselves as you entered the kitchen, both of you flushed from laughing. 

“Do you want eggs, baby?” you asked, your voice soft and affectionate, the pet name rolling off your tongue like it was second nature. Noah’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin at the exchange, his eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching his favorite sitcom. 

“Baby now, huh, Trenty?” he teased under his breath, just loud enough for you all to hear. You ignored him, focusing instead on Trent, who had just walked over to dap up Noah and Jack.

“Yes, please,” he answered, his voice warm and easy as he continued his path around the kitchen island back to move to stand behind you. Trent’s hands found their place on your waist, pulling you close so your back was flush against his chest.  “You know you’re the best, pretty girl?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered. You smiled, leaning into him as his big hands splayed across your stomach, his fingers flexing gently against the fabric of his shirt you were still in. Something definitely not lost on anyone in the kitchen. Jack let out an exaggerated groan, setting his coffee mug down with a thud. 

“This much? Seriously, this early?” Jack asked, watching you and Trent.

“Let them live, Jacky boy,” Noah laughed, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head enjoying watching Jack squirm. You turned to glance at Jack over your shoulder, an innocent smile gracing your lips. 

“We’re not doing anything, Jack!” you protested, though the way Trent’s lips skimmed the side of your neck as you spoke said otherwise.

“Not doing anything, huh?” Jack shot back, raising an eyebrow nodding at Trent with a teasing grin. “Maybe try keeping your hands to yourselves for five minutes, or giving eachother even an inch of space, yeah?” He gave you a feigned look of disgust watching Trent’s big hands stay on your body, unmoved by his words. Trent chuckled against your skin, his arms tightening around you protectively. 

“Can’t make any promises, mate,” he quipped, kissing the spot just behind your ear as if to prove a point. Jack groaned again, muttering something under his breath about ‘never-ending,’ while Noah just laughed, shaking his head again at the whole ordeal.

“Also, I wouldn’t mind eggs either, just saying…” Noah eventually chirped, leaning back in his chair with a smirk watching you begin to make Trent’s.

“Nah, mate, we’re not ‘baby,’” Jack quipped, piling on the teasing. “I don’t think we’re getting breakfast.” You let out a small giggle, secretly relieved by the playful banter. As long as it wasn’t awkward tension, you could handle the teasing.

“Tough work, mate, getting ‘baby’ status,” Trent shot back, his lips quirking into a smug grin. “I won’t lie, but the perks… let me tell you...” He cheekily left the statement open ended as he kissed your temple for emphasis before turning back to Jack and Noah with a look. Noah caught the tone and immediately smirked, reading between the lines. 

“Ah, yeah, we know the perks, don’t we, Jack?” Noah chuckled. Jack made an exaggerated, grossed-out face, covering his eyes. 

“Don’t even start, mate. No one needs that mental image.” He scoffed with a teasing smile knowing that joking was the only way this would ever be normal. Joking was a fundamental part of their friendship, and with their friendship and you, humor was a lifeline.  

“Nah, hold on,” Trent laughed, waving his hands defensively. “That’s not what I meant—just breakfast!” He attempted to defend himself. Like second nature, you opted not to help him out, you chimed in with a cheeky grin.

“I know, comes with taking that number one best friend spot too, huh?” You giggled. Trent’s jaw dropped at your betrayal, his hands quick to come playfully squeeze your sides, dragging you into him.

“Nah, can’t believe you just sold me out like that!” He yelped, wrapping his arms around you so tightly, you couldn’t even struggle. “Baby!” He pleaded, annoyed you just did that in front of his best mates. Jack and Noah burst into laughter seeing Trent get called out for being a simp. Years of friendship be damned, it was always great to see Trent whine about a joke.

“Wow, bro! Took you one movie night to drop Noah and I? You fucking piece of shit! ” Jack said through his cackles. Even you couldn’t help giggling, your face tucked into Trent’s chest as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Awh, Trenty,” Noah teased, clearly enjoying himself. “Even your girl’s selling you out, bro. That’s tough.” He mocked him.  Trent let out an exaggerated groan but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. 

“Alright, alright, fuck off. Come on, lads. It’s different.” He smiled shyly realizing you were in fact his best friend, he just didn’t want to get into the semantics of what made you a different kind of best friend compared to the two boys. Noah and Jack rolled their eyes in unison continuing to torment Trent. “Whatever, don't need you lot anyway.” He puffed out air squeezing you tighter. “I’ll just keep my perks and my eggs to myself.” He smirked. You turned to kiss his cheek in consolation, with a hum of agreement. “Absolute snake,” Trent whispered in your ear, pulling you closer as you giggled.

Noah and Jack continued to tease Trent relentlessly, their laughter echoing through the kitchen as Trent tried to defend himself in vain. Finally, you slid three plates of eggs over to the boys, their teasing momentarily pausing as they eyed their breakfast.

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, mockingly holding up his hands in surrender as he took a bite. “At least ‘baby’ knows how to cook up.”

“Can’t say the same for you,” Noah added with a smirk, earning a glare from Jack. Ignoring them, you came around the counter, wrapping your arms around Trent from behind. He immediately leaned back into your embrace, his warm smile easing any guilt you might’ve felt for teasing him earlier.

“I’m sorry, baby. I love you,” you whispered softly into his ear before pressing a kiss just below it. Trent turned his head slightly, catching your gaze with that signature cheeky glint in his eye. 

“Nah, don’t be,” he replied casually, his voice at a normal volume so everyone could hear. “You are my best friend.” He smirked, awaiting Jack and Noah’s inevitable response. They instantly looked offended, their reactions in perfect synchronization as they both dropped their forks.

“Excuse me, bro?!” Jack snapped, with a laugh, feeling like this actually could be okay, that this could work if you and Trent were so light hearted about it all, so welcoming of the teasing. 

“I thought we were kidding. Fuck you!” Noah chimed in, looking dramatically betrayed. Trent couldn’t hold back his laugh, his grin smug and playful as he leaned forward to take a bite of his eggs.

“What? Just being honest,” he muffled out words with his mouth full, savoring the moment of turning the tables on them. You couldn’t help but giggle at the chaos, leaning down to kiss his cheek again. 

“Baby… Stop stirring the pot,” you whispered. 

“Nah, they deserve it.” He smirked, taking another bite of food. “Mmm, so good, pretty girl. This is why you're my best friend. Thank you,” Trent hummed contentedly, turning his head to kiss your lips this time. The kiss was quick, sweet, but enough to make Noah groan and Jack roll his eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Jack muttered, picking up his fork again. “Gross. But also, true, eggs are good Y/N. Thank you.” Jack would tease you but he was sure to never take you for granted. You smiled and grabbed your own plate, finally taking a seat next to Trent.

“Yeah, eggs are boss, Y/N. Thank you.” Noah added as you all continued to eat your breakfast. “So, was thinking a little last night….” Noah began with a mischievous smile. “Just curious does anyone know how you clean a hot tub? What do you do... You know if it gets dirty.” He smirked, taking a big bite of eggs, stuffing his mouth full. Your jaw slacked a little. Jack snapped his head towards you, turning to face you with a disapproving look. Trent kicked the leg of Noah’s seat in retaliation, causing him to stumble and choke a little on his food. There was no real harm though, and that was clear the moment Noah finally swallowed his eggs and fell into a loud laugh. “Gonna be a good summer, lads!” He grinned triumphantly knowing his bit landed; Jack having to accept his fate, Trent being knocked down a peg, and you reminded someone was always watching. As the boys continued their banter, your gaze flickered between them and Trent, his hand caressing on your thigh under the counter top. This was it. The teasing, the laughter, the love—it all felt right. This was your new normal, and you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The gym hummed with low energy, a mix of clinking weights and faint music filtering through the speakers. It wasn’t overly crowded, just a few people scattered around, focused on their routines. Devon stood by a bench, leaning against it with a towel draped over his shoulders. His mind wasn’t on his workout anymore; it hadn’t been since he’d walked in and seen Josh.

He watched as Josh stood at the weight rack, effortlessly curling dumbbells, his expression smug and self-satisfied as usual. Devon felt a wave of discomfort wash over him. He’d always thought Josh was cocky, maybe a bit of a prick, but this? The things Layla had told him—the video, the way Josh talked about you—it was so much worse than he could have imagined. Devon hesitated, fiddling with the towel in his hands as he debated whether to approach. Confronting Josh wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do, but it was becoming harder to ignore the nagging voice in his head. This isn’t right. Someone has to say something. Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed off the bench and made his way over.

“Hey, mate,” Devon said, his voice casual but tight as he came to stand near Josh. Josh glanced over, setting the dumbbells down with a clang. 

“Yo, bro. You good?” he asked, his tone easy but laced with confusion. Devon shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the gym before finally speaking. 

“Erm… So you and Y/N—what’s the deal there?” Devon asked haphazardly trying to figure out what was going. Josh raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“What do you mean, ‘what’s the deal’? She’s mine. Simple.” The casual possessiveness in his tone made Devon’s stomach churn. He tried to keep his composure, but his jaw tightened. 

“Mate, you can’t really believe that, yeah? She’s not… yours. She’s moved on.” Josh’s smirk faltered slightly, his expression darkening. 

“Fuck off, Dev. What’s up with you?” He questioned. Devon hesitated, but he knew there was no turning back now. 

“No, serious, bro” Devon tone was bordering on pleading. “It’s just cause, the video you have of her… It’s not… you know…” Devon mumbled, not really able to formulate a compelling argument detailing how morally wrong it was. 

“Dev, bro… She’s a whore, things like that, of girls like that, are meant to be shared, yeah?” He explained with a smirk as if that was the most normal thing in the world. Devon’s stomach flipped. He knew Josh was kind of an ass, but they were teammates, they had fun together but this had gone too far. 

“Bro, it’s not cool, you know. Can’t hold that shit over people, it obviously wasn’t for you.” Devon snipped and it struck a nerve. 

“No, it was for me.” Josh stood up with force. “She’s mine, that piece of shit, Alexander-Arnold can’t have her. She’s a whore. So I’ll use that video to get her doing what she does best, to come back, and take Trent down in the process. Easy. Fuck them, bro.” Josh explained seriously. He truly believe this was sound logic.

“Nah, mate. There just isn’t an excuse for it. None of that is true and even if…” Devon stuttered, not sure if he could convince Josh but he’d try. “Bro, even if she was a whore or whatever you want to think, it doesn’t make it okay to do this type of shit.” Devon didn’t defend Trent, he didn’t really know him at the end of the day, but the thought of Layla crying was something he felt inclined to fix. He was just trying to get Josh to see how outlandish what he was saying was. 

“Dev, who the fuck do you think you are telling me what to do with that whore of all people… Fuck Alexander-Arnold.” Josh snapped looking at Devon with daggers in his eyes. “You need to relax. Get laid or something.” He quipped shoving down any thought that Devon could have a point.  

“Bro they’re in a relationship!” Devon yelped. “That’s his girlfriend. It’s just time you let that one lie. Plenty of girls elsewhere. Come on.” Devon begged. Josh froze, his grip tightening on the towel in his hand. 

“What.” Josh bit furiously. 

“What? I’m just saying. That it’s one thing to play dirty and try to get a girl but she has a boyfriend. It wasn’t a video meant for you… Just.” Devon sighed. “Just let it go.”  He looked at Josh pleadingly.

“Boyfriend?” Josh asked.  “You’re not serious…He’s her boyfriend?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. Devon nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, mate. It’s serious. Her mate Layla…” Devon began to cite Layla as a source but Josh cut himoff. 

“Oh I see. Y/N having everyone do her dirty work again.” He said with a cocky grin and cynical laugh.

“Bro, stop. Come on, just time to move on from that one. They’re in love or some shit.” Devon sheepishly but surely explained. Josh let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 

“Love? Trent doesn’t love her. He doesn’t even know her. She’s a whore, mate. Girls like her don’t get love—they get what I give them.” The words hit Devon like a punch to the gut. His face hardened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. 

“Aye, bro.” Devon cautioned Josh, starting to get pissed off. “I get it, you like to have that dom shit going with girls but you can’t talk about girls like that. You don’t get to talk about someone like that,” he said sharply, his voice rising. Josh scoffed, stepping closer to Devon. 

“Don’t start preaching to me, Dev. You’ve had your fun with Layla, yeah? Stay in your lane. This isn’t your business. Maybe you need to fuck her again, loosen up.” Josh spit back. 

“Mate, this is my business,” Devon shot back. “That video? That’s extortion. It’s disgusting. And you’re holding it over them like some sick game.” Josh’s eyes narrowed, and his smirk returned, more sinister than ever. 

“She’s mine. She’ll come back to me, and Trent? He’s done. Local lad, big dreams? Whatever the fuck his whole brand is. Bullshit and I’ll burn it down with this. Just stay the fuck out of it.” Josh explained simply. Devon shook his head, his voice dripping with disgust. 

“You’re fucking tapped, mate! This isn’t about her coming back to you. You gotta accept she with a lad who does beat the shit out of her.” Devon bit back and Josh’s smirk faltered for a moment, he was pissed. Josh quickly recovered though, stepping even closer. 

“Keep talking, Dev, and you’ll regret it. I always win. Always.” Devon held his ground, refusing to back down. 

“Nah, mate. Not this time. You’ve already lost. This has nothing to do with anything other than just being a good person. This isn't something you can win. Just delete the video. Let her go.” Devon begged Josh once over hoping maybe he’d have a revelation.  Josh let out a humorless laugh before turning on his heel and walking away. The tension in the gym was palpable as Devon stood rooted in place, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Josh’s words reverberated through his mind, each syllable dripping with venom and delusion. Devon stared at his own reflection in the mirror, trying to process what he’d just heard. He had always known Josh could be a bit of an dick—a cocky, arrogant type who liked to push boundaries. But this? This wasn’t just crossing a line; it was obliterating it.

Josh had walked off, smug and confident, leaving Devon standing alone at the weight rack, his stomach churning. He had never felt so conflicted. A part of him wanted to brush it off, to stay out of it like Josh had demanded. But the other part—the part that had spent time with Layla, the part that imagined if he was the one in Trent’s shoes—couldn’t ignore how completely messed up the situation had become. Josh’s insistence that he ‘owned’ you made Devon sick. The way he spat your name, the way he dismissed Trent and twisted everything into his own warped narrative—it was beyond disgusting. Devon let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in the middle of this mess, but he knew one thing: Josh wasn’t going to let it go. And now, with Josh fully aware that you and Trent were in a serious relationship, Devon knew things were only going to escalate. He grabbed a towel off the bench, his mind racing. He couldn’t go back to pretending this wasn’t happening. Not anymore. He wondered if he should talk to Layla— If Josh was planning something, you and Trent deserved a heads up.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 26 xx

[eulaliasims]

Happy Halloween from Chiana, Theodore, and Margo I mean, Lydia, Nick, and their cat. 🎃

[soothfog]

i often rarely follow back accounts that have no in character writing yet.

i wait and check in several days or a week later to see if you've posted anything in character. this is not to see if you stay active (as someone who is very very sporadic with my replies (sometimes i reply literal years later) i promise you will never come across an rp partner more laidback about speediness). it is so i can get familiar with your writing style and formatting and portrayal and world and etc to gauge whether all of these elements blends well with mine. then i follow, if they do.

if you follow me and all of my accounts and then unfollow all of them after several days b/c i haven't followed you back, that's your call and i'm not stopping you from leaving, obviously, you're your own person. but just know the not-following-back on my part, if you are a new blog, is not because i'm uninterested. it's because i'm waiting to see some writing! that's all! if you are/were ever self conscious on the matter, i hope this clears things up.

[dearthshine]

.

[emmacarl]

My favorite OC right now is Catie. She's, I think, the POV character for the zombie apocalypse novel I have wanted to write for a while. Here are some thoughts on her.

Catie is young and when she was very young, her parents got her into acting professionally for movies and tv and stuff. When she was a tweenager she was cast as one of the main characters in a super popular tv show and became famous very quickly, which boxed her into this celebrity persona that she had to perform even when she wasn't acting. So for most of her life she was following a script--either literally or figuratively--and she has no real-world experience, and she believes that humans (including herself) are 2-dimensional; any thoughts or desires she has outside of her "script" should not exist.

Catie's personality that has bee created for her and she does not deviate from is this stereotypically feminine, very shallow type of girl who's obsessed with how she looks. She believes she's a lot stupider than she actually is--and because of that, she gets frustrated very easily with people who cannot keep up with her. The first turning point for Catie's life is when she's invited onto an episode of something like The Pyramid (but it's live--that's important) and she loves it because it's basically reality tv, there's no script; they keep sending her what she thinks are softball questions and she's knocking it out of the park and her partner isn't doing as well. Catie gets frustrated and says something out of character and inappropriate for a live television screening so they just kinda. shut everything down. and it's like ummm yeah we're gonna find someone from the audience to replace you because that was not appropriate.

There's two results: the first is that this image she has been curating for herself since childhood is gone. People heard what she said and most of them agree it was inappropriate but some are defending it, some saying she had like a mental health break or was trying to make a joke that went the wrong way. The second result from this event is that Catie realizes she has free will, and the actions she chooses for herself have consequences. This is something that most people learn when they're like, five, but Catie has been living by the book for her entire life. She's never made a real decision for herself (at least not one with real consequences.) And she's like... I can write my own story for myself?

There's a lot that happens and then she meets Toni and Toni has a lot going on as well but Catie and Toni are together, Toni literally lets Catie just do whatever she wants and Catie decides that she is going to write a chapter for herself where she becomes a mother. She has this all planned out where she's going to have the cutest baby in the world, she's going to create an Instagram page for it, (there's of course the drama about how Catie and Toni should not be having a child and shouldn't be together at all), she just basically spends the entire pregnancy hyping up this baby that's going to be The Famous Internet Baby.

And the baby is born and Catie is handed this fleshy sticky human-ish thing and it's not nearly as cute as she thought it would be and it's got, like, this thing on it's face--nothing bad, and it's not a deformity or anything, but it's definitely something that's going to get her bullied in school and it's not super pleasant to look at; so Catie is handed her baby and her first thought upon seeing the mark on her face is, "oh my god. this baby is so ugly." Her second thought is, "Oh My God. The first thought I had when I saw my baby is that she is ugly. I am the worst mother in the world." Catie realizes she was about to do to her baby exactly what her parents did to her: force her into these strict beauty standards and throw her out into the spotlight before she can even speak so she does a complete 180 and decides to keep the baby private and protect her with her life.

Also there's like a zombie apocalypse happening at this point but I don't care about that right now. She goes and fights zombies and stuff. The point of the whole zombie thing is there was a large group of people who wanted to stay young forever, who were against growing and changing, but if you do not continuously change who you are, you are going to rot. Humanity is about love and change and there is no "perfection" that we can ever hold on to, or something cheesy like that.

(I was going to make just Catie but this Picrew has a port wine stain option so I made all three of them. Toni (C) is much older and Lyllian (R) is much much younger but Catie (L) is the right age.)

Btw, if your OCs have a child together. that's called your grand-OC

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[penny-anna]

some of my fav 'inconsistencies' between the prequel trilogy & the OT and by fav i mean i genuinely think these were good calls:

it is NOT normal for Jedi to become force ghosts when they die. that's like a brand new skill Yoda just unlocked. if Luke tried to tell ppl about Obi-wan's force ghost literally no-one, even ppl who were familiar w the Jedi when they were around, would know wtf he was talking about

R2-D2 knew everything that went down during the prequels and just opted not to tell anyone ever which is fully in-character for him

becoming a Jedi was a whole process involving 15+ years of training and formal trials to determine if you were ready for knighthood and then with Luke Yoda was just like 'yeah fuck it you're a jedi knight now. burn the jedi temple did. made up all the rules are. gives a shit who does.'

everyone just kind of forgot who the Jedi were within the span of a generation. love that.

[forlix]

𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy. He moves to pour himself a shot.

“What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Agreed. Case closed.”

There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

“Well, shit,��� Hyunjin says out loud.

That is, aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus as he pores over his production homework. You can hear music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He startles as if coming out of a trance, then begins to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers, but only after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. You brush a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly that you barely remember what you wanted to ask him.

“Always,” you say. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you hum.

“Says you,” he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.

Your lips find each other’s again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity. Some time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to whisper for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing; you’re hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 

“It’s you,” you breathe. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”

Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear.

Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes—but happiness looks better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[anantaru]

GENSHIN + BREAK UP, MAKE UP

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — you fuck your ex boyfriend and shocker, you love it ᰔ

— ꒰ including ꒱ — alhaitham, ayato, heizou, wriothesley x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — ex boyfriend trope, slightly toxic & mean boys, bratty! reader ??? dirty talk, oral (male! receiving), fingering, cowgirl position, cumming inside, lots of cum lol, dom characters

— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱

"hey, don't insult me now," alhaitham looks at you with a prized confusion in his eyes— while also taking care of your bodies needs and desires, his cock pressing deeply in you. "what's with the attitude i hear?" his voice was clearly hinting at a hazed tone as he pants against your wet cheek, your tits flushed against his solid chest.

you gasp at him, curving your fingers into his hair to pull it, "w-what attitude?" your hips involuntarily buck into his cock so he would hopefully get the hint and continue to move, more so stop being so annoying for once in his life.

"you're hiding it from me," he whispers cruelly, "don't act stupid now, aren't you so smart?" as his hips begin to grind through your tight hole, a warm press slowly distending in your cunt and swelling in your belly.

"you hide your moans from me, fuck, you brat, you know what that does to me," under the cover of a shaken exhale, he shoves you into the mattress even further— no mercy, no signs of previous affection, only a raw and pleasuring handle.

archons, how much you loathed the way he always had you figured out this quickly.

how, just how.

but well, it's not like you were a couple anymore, correct? so why would you give him the pleasure of hearing you? knowing full on well he finds it to be the best part whenever he fucked you.

just so he could pride himself again? scrap that, he doesn't deserve it, nor to indulge into every drop of desire you give him.

"hah, you're so weak alhaitham," you bite back a whimper, "still so weak for me," as your hole clenches, throbs and milks against his awfully hard cock before you look at him through a wet expression, his hair soused and messy sticking all over his forehead, pressed into the light sheen of sweat across his face, "or maybe you aren't doing a good job,"

it's dangerous— playing that game with your ex. but it's also worth the gamble.

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱

like a puppy, you preciously kneel between ayato's legs, slightly leaning against one of his muscular thighs— one hand proudly holding his cock in your grasp to stroke him, your wet tongue circulating over the leaking slit just how he liked it.

but that familiar infatuation from months ago, when you were still considering yourself a team, that disgustingly known taste of your tongue on his cock made the yashiro commissioner twitch in your hand— is it desperation in his movements? or longing?

it reminds him all too much on how things used to be.

when you were in a relationship, of course, "in love", and where fucking you wasn't just fucking to neither of you, it was making love.

a longing that filled the whole breast with its mad virus.

it was much, much. he could never argue against the fact that you were the only one who could make him fall to his knees.

you flick the tip of your tongue back and forth over the inflamed head, teasing the slit and making him shudder, finding it more and more satisfying to have someone within such position under your grasp, the constant press of need and attention on your cunt only coming second.

"y-your mouth feels so fucking good," he heaves and embarrassingly coughs out right after— well, it's not that deep? because hey, a commissioner doesn't curse now, does he? but he did it for you, always.

how were you able to always coax that out of him?

your hand tightens around his erection, adding shallow yet precise pumps over his shaft as you cup his balls roughly, massaging them in your palm and wetting them with your saliva.

he's already wet of both his pre and your spit, yet you do not waste any chance to spit on his tip again, again and again until your cheeks and chin where littered with filth, finding it rather enchanting whenever ayato moans disgustingly hot.

chest rising, falling again, groans hitching at the feeling of your saliva sliding down his tip.

"i want to touch you too, come on now, don't you want me to touch you?" he begins to whimper, stroking over your head affectionately as you look up at him, flexing your throat, grabbing at his shaft more firmly.

he continues, although it gets harder to breathe, "don't you want my fucking hands on you, come on, admit it," fuck, ayato was so pent up— from work? from going through a messy break up? from being alone?

archons who was he fooling besides himself? it's due to how much he has missed you, missed this, missed your scent all around him.

— ꒰ HEIZOU ꒱

"oh your so wet, well look at this, look at this all over my hand,"

"some things never change, hm?" heizou moans softly and parades his glistening fingers to your blinking eyes as you whined out, trying to shift from his body hovering on top.

it's futile— not because you actually want him to stop, but because you really wanted this, despite him being so embarrassing and blunt about it.

what little movement you managed to coax from your hips merely aroused you further as heizou stuck his fingers back into your cunt— two slippery digits scissoring you hard, reaching deeper and floating inside you like inside water before rubbing his thumb back and forth your clit.

your thoughts were sluggish, and you found yourself overwhelmed due to the fact that your body enjoyed it, and so did your mind.

you knew this was wrong, this shouldn't happen, this wouldn't make it easier for either of you in the long run. but you couldn't think beyond that when all you thought about was his next touch and buck of his hands thrusting into your cunt.

your skin tingles, ever hot as he presses and rubs and strokes until every inch of your being was shivering in need and regretting ever breaking up with him.

no matter how often you try to act like he isn't setting a fire along the slopes of your skin, the detective will never stop seeking you out for this, conquering your sinful spots until you're fucked out of your mind, only then he will get close to your ear and ask you to say that you regret ever letting him go.

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱

"do you still fucking hate me?" there was a rumble emitting from wriothesley's chest, and for one long moment, he was consumed by nothing more other than your tight cunt riding him fiercely, "do you still refuse to admit that you secretly like this?"

if only he could shut up for just a damn second, just one.

"do you?" your eyes flew open to him in anger, your gaze aggravated in its entire embrace, how dare he mock this— but an expanding shock of his hips bucking into you forced a new bodily reaction from your shuddering frame, enough to override the otherwise enticing anger you were about to spit like venom into his proud face.

your back arches as you shoot him a dangerous glare— one that could easily get confused with a please please do fuck me harder, instead of hold your tongue you asshole.

because you see, don't act out on anger, instead luxuriate in the crushing weight of his cock between your legs, hard and heavy throbbing as you ride him, pleasure and fuck him hard— still pondering about how difficult it always had been to fit his entire length inside of you.

you let your legs shift apart more as your tits bounce in combination with your movements, your back arching as your pussy began to milk him fiercely, squelch and squelch as the deep, bloating throbs of his shaft scrub over the bends of your walls, until reaching your swelling belly.

you turn sensitive, he knows it, the duke can feel it.

"oh, come on now baby," pride gushes from his mouth as he tilts his head, tightly holding your waist before thrusting up. you wouldn't let him bath inside his confidence any longer as you lightly punch his chest upon hearing him use a damn petname.

"oh? you don't want me to call you that?"

"obviously not," you shake your head, wetting your lips, despite that, he could hear the arousal in your voice, "why are you clenching when i say it then? baby~" as he maintains his ardour, refusing to allow you to control your little get together as he mercilessly thrusts up into you, thick and heavy cock slipping in and out, your arousal running down his balls.

your moans are a little more breathless now, shaken as the pumping motions of his erection slapping against your pussy only grew needier.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[always-just-red]

I've been lookin for a writer who takes reqs for lnds 😭 Can i req sfw hcs/one-shot (choose which one u prefer more) for sylus & fem/gn reader?

I remember there was one call for zayne x mc where mc called zayne accidentally because mc was drunk & mc called zayne (accidentally) instead of booking a cab (mc did book a cab but w/ a wrong destination).

Can i maybe req what if the scenario is like that but it's w/ sylus instead? Feel free to tell me if this req is too much or if u wanna decline it, thanks a lot!

My first Sylus fic! Yay! (Don't look at me Rafayel 🥰) Anon your mind is so powerful! This prompt was so much fun to write, so thank you, hope you enjoy!

Wrong Number

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're having a bit of trouble getting hold of that taxi you booked, but more trouble help is on the way...

Genre: fluff, kinda ends on an angsty note (sorry 😇)

Warnings/Additional tags: drunk reader, some swearing, humour, uses of 'sweetie' and 'kitten', threat of violence/death at the start, a slight bit of suggestion (it's Sylus, ok? He's having ✨fun✨)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Mr. Sylus, please! It was an honest mistake— almost indistinguishable from a genuine protocore, I swear!”

Sylus is lounging back in a plush leather armchair, feeling thoroughly short-changed as he turns about a fake protocore with his fingers. He’s been listening to this noise for almost a full minute, growing awfully impatient, though he did like the last excuse.

“Say that again,” he drawls with a sinister smile.

“It was an honest mistake,” the black-market dealer stutters, tripping over his words. “It was almost indistinguishable from a—”

“Almost indistinguishable…” Sylus confirms. “Almost. Almost.” He’s savouring each syllable— tasting them like wine.

“It would have fooled almost anyone!”

“Almost anyone?” Sylus laughs, and it’s a wicked, dangerous thing. “Well yes, I rather think that’s the point. But it didn’t fool just anyone, did it? It fooled you.”

His smile is gone in an instant, his hand closing around the fake protocore, splintering it with a crack. He drops bloodied, sapphire fragments from his palm, red and blue, red and blue, and they skitter across the hardwood floor like rain.

“Please, Mr. Sylus!” the dealer pleads, desperate. “I’ll do anything! I will! I’ll make it up to you!”

“No, thanks.” Sylus studies his palm as it heals. “I’ve had my fill of fake protocores.”

“Sylus!”

The leader of Onychinus stands, drawing his gun with a customary apathy. Dark energy manifests, twisting around the dealer’s limbs, holding him still, while a lone tendril crawls around his mouth, holding him silent. He’s struggling, but he should know better. He should have known better from the very beginning. With a wistful smile, Sylus levels the gun with his head, and—

Something rings.

His red gaze shoots up, instinctively seeking Luke and Kieran, but they shrug from their station at the other side of the room. The sound is closer than that, anyway. Glaringly more familiar. Sylus’s spare hand goes to his pocket, and he draws out his phone.

“Mmm?” he greets, thumb sliding across the screen as he puts it to his ear.

There’s only one person who calls him at this time of night.

“Where are you?” your voice echoes from the other side of the line.

“That’s a question I prefer not to answer without knowing what motivates it.”

“Wha— Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he drones.

There’s a moment of silence. “Shit.”

It’s not the reaction he aspires to, but you sound agitated, so he’s going to let it slide. There’s a loud crackle from the speaker, followed by a few, harsher sounds, and he pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing slightly. His eyes are trained on the man at his feet, but he lowers his gun, distracted.

“What are you—” he begins, but then he identifies the sound. It’s a finger— your finger— jabbing away at a screen. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Hunter, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No…” you deny too quickly. It’s still there: the tapping. Like Mephisto, pecking furiously at a locked window from outside. A few more jabs, and then…

The call cuts out.

Sylus scoffs, looking down at his now silent phone in disbelief. He flops back into his chair, tossing his gun onto a side table before hitting the button to call you back. You know he’s not a patient man, but you don’t pick up the first time, and so he has to try again. He can be patient for you— he tells himself— as he thinks up some creative ways for you to return the charity. Speaking of charity…

His gaze drops to the dealer. “Get out,” he sneers.

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet as his blood-dark bindings retract, practically throwing himself towards the room’s exit. Luke pushes open the door, the intense music of the nightclub beating through the gap, but Kieran’s being less helpful. He steps into the doorway, blocking any escape. He feints right. Then left. Behind the masks, both men are laughing.

Eventually Kieran steps aside. He shoves the dealer the rest of the way through the door as Luke kicks it shut, and they exchange a high-five.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. His call connects.

“Hello?” You’re back. “Finally! Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Still me, sweetie.”

“Sylus?” you actually whine. It’s adorable. “Why is it you? Go away.”

“No,” he lilts tunefully, and then he’s coaxing: “I want to help you, kitten. Won’t you let me help you? Tell me, who are you trying to call?”

Frustration spills from you— fake, exaggerated sobs tearing themselves from your throat. “The taxi, Sy,” you whine again. “The stupid taxi, ok? It’s not here. It’s meant to be here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Ha!” you exclaim like you’ve evaded a masterplan, and not a casually asked, run-of-the-mill question. “No. Nice try, but no. You wanna help me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave me alone!”

With— he can imagine— some sort of theatrical flourish, you deliver your phone a final, decisive tap. It beckons a fateful silence. Sylus brings his phone in front of his face, unmoved by the moment’s gravitas. There’s a pop-up on the screen. Kitten: requesting video chat.

He smiles to himself. Then accepts. “Hi sweetie.”

Your face is lighting up his screen, your cheeks flushed, your brow furrowed, and your eyes sharp with determination. “Why can I— wait, why can I see you? Get out of my phone, Sy!”

“My, my,” he tuts, but he’s smiling still, “look at you— the illustrious Miss Hunter. It is a relief to know the fate of Linkon rests in such… reliable hands.”

“What d’you mean?” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

He chuckles. “And there’s that infamous wit.”

You bite your lip as you ignore him, still fixated on trying to end the call. It occurs to him that you will eventually succeed; even a broken clock is right twice a day. “Listen to me, sweetie. Are you alone?”

His tone is sober enough for the two of you, and your exasperated eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and send me your location. You remember how to do that, right?” He carefully enunciates each word of his plan. “I’ll come and get you, but I need to know where you are. Don’t go with anyone else. Wait for me, ok?”

You’re nodding away, the odd ‘mmhmm’ escaping your lips, but you’re not at all listening. He catches on after a minute. Trails off— realises your gaze is too vacant, and your focus? Wandering. You’re cradling your phone with both hands. His view is interrupted as your thumb passes over the camera; you’re… stroking the screen?

“You’re so pretty, Sy,” you murmur breathlessly.

His gaze softens. He sighs, “You’re pretty too.”

Then you make a sound he’s never heard before: you squeak, the phone’s audio almost cutting out. A blush is spreading through your cheeks, so much darker than the alcohol’s afterglow, and gods he wishes your face was in his hands. The vision is short-lived, however, because suddenly you’re gone.

There’s a circling view of a dark street, split by streaks of white light, as your phone careens through the air. It strikes concrete a moment later, stuttering to a stop, and Sylus’s grimace deepens with each jarring crack. Your screen has gone black, but he doesn’t think it’s broken. He’s face down, apparently— subjected to an unexciting view of the pavement.

“Oh, shit!” He hears you gasp.

Though your voice is far away, your phone is in your grasp again in no time. You’re turning it over, peering down at him, tracing the outline of his face with worry. “Sorry, Sy. Are you ok?”

“I’ll survive.” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, if you wanted to throw me around, you only needed to ask.”

His voice has dropped, and he loves watching you notice. You stand from your crouch with a smirk, bringing him with you— a dark idea in your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Before he can protest, he’s looking at the back of your head. Your arm is stretched behind you, gearing up to send him on another short flight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts, panicking briefly, but you’d never detect it with all your wits about you, let alone none. He’s brought in front of your face again, and you’re frowning oh so sweetly. “I asked you to do something, remember?”

“You told me to do something.”

So pedantic. “What did I tell you to do, sweetie?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a short huff as you blow hair from your face, and then you’re concentrating. You have that look he likes: the one you get when you’re whittling away at your paperwork like a good little hunter. The same stubborn resolve, too, that makes you lean over it when he or Mephisto are conveniently behind your shoulder.

Your location comes through with a ping and his smile widens. He’s up in a heartbeat, telling you he’s on his way— that you did such a good job— and that you need to stay on the phone with him, ok? He spins his fingers as he passes between Luke and Kieran, a gesture they’ve long grown accustomed to and can easily translate.

I'm leaving. Clean this up.

…

“So then Xavier, like— well, you know Xavier— he was all, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ but he never did, Sy! Off he went, leaving Nero and I to do all the paperwork, and I asked Nero, and Nero was like, ‘ask Xavier yourself’, and I was like, ‘I literally just did!’, and he just shrugged, and it’s… driving me crazy, you know? Because where does he even go? Tara and I have this bet going, she thinks it’s because he—”

Your anecdote comes to a sudden stop.

“What does Tara think, sweetie?”

“Shh shh shh! Wait a second…”

You clutch your phone to your chest like it’ll somehow suppress Sylus’s voice. You’re sat, leaning back against a chain-link fence, but you rise as a black car pulls up in front of you. The windows are tinted. You squint, leaning forward to try to look through them anyway.

“I don’t like this, Sy,” you frown as you plant a hand on your hip. “There’s a car here.”

“Oh?”

“Shh!” you hiss again. It’s not the only car parked on the street, but it is the only one alive. The engine purrs and its lights are glowing like angry embers, refusing to be snuffed out by the dark. You take a step closer, then the engine cuts out. You take a bigger step back.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Sylus asks, his tone so thick it’s practically bleeding through your phone. “Is a big, bad man trying to get you?”

“Well I don’t know what they look like, Sy. The windows are tinted, and I— AH!” you gasp.  

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you from the ground. “Got you, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles in your ear as tell-tale crow feathers settle around you. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles, turning your panicked shrieks to laughter.

“Sylus!” you squeal as you attempt to wriggle free. You don’t think you’re trying very hard.

The man lowers you back to your feet, but his arms stay around you and he dips his head, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” For a little word, there’s so much fondness.

“Let’s get you home to bed, ok?”

You nod compliantly with a yawn, swaying a little as his arms retract and you’re having to stand on your own again. He chuckles as he steadies you— placing a hand on the top of your head— and you pivot, drawn by the sound. His crimson eyes find yours and they’re dark with something that stirs you, even with your mind swimming and nothing really making sense. You’re not sure of anything at all, except—

No-one has ever looked at you like that before.

And you won’t remember it tomorrow.

“Come on,” he prompts, nudging you towards the car, and you start to walk, though you’re dragging your feet. “I want to hear all of the association’s dirtiest secrets while I still can.”

“Tara has a crush on the new weapon specialist, you know.”

Sylus blinks, then laughs— a tender, comfortable thing. Completely enthralled. “You don’t say,” he beams.

No, you won’t remember it tomorrow.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

CREATURE COMMANDOS (DCU - animated)

—

“A Call To Motion” or Going to Carnival w/ The Creatures Commandos (Creature Commandos x Fem!Reader)

| Headcanons

| CHARACTERS: FLAG, BRIDE, PHOSPHOROUS, NINA, G.I. (platonic), WEASEL (platonic).

| SFW, 18+, minors dni, mission, team dynamics, fluff, caribbean setting, dancing, referenced sex (TW: stalking, murder, animal death) - monster!reader & caribbean!reader

| 6k+ words (some of which is a 900+ word mini fic w/ Phosphorus)

RICHARD “RICK” FLAG SR.

Rick should absolutely not be allowing you to do this, but he can’t take his eyes off you anyway.

There’s something mesmerizing about how you move to the music around you, the island’s atmosphere seeming to have rejuvenated you significantly. It’s like you were made of the sun, it seeps into the pretty brown of your skin like a homecoming and the way you bask in its warmth and smile takes his breath away.

Flag is old and more than a little jaded, taking his breath away — let alone getting him to start waxing fucking poetic — wasn’t easy. Why, then, you’re able to do it without so much as trying is something he can’t mentally grasp.

He can’t be too mad when you’re still clearly doing your job, though. Even with you singing loudly to every single song. Flag doesn’t even want to know how you know the newer tracks at all, let alone well enough to not be missing any words and wining your waist in time enough to be hitting every single beat.

And he is watching close enough to tell. He tells himself it’s because you’re too much of a wildcard this mission — on this island — but he’s hardly convincing himself. Feigning ignorance is his best bet anyway, even if he is kind of worried about whether he’ll have to bury your headless body in an unmarked grave because you slipped away using familiar pathways you grew up trekking he had no chance of knowing.

Regardless, even with you being covered enough to hide the monstrous parts of your appearance, very little about the way you’re dancing leaves much for his imagination to do. The way your ass pops, the freedom in your movements, the surety in your performance, it’s all like catnip to him.

Even in tactical gear you’re still working him up. Even though you were one of his goddam charges and he was too old to be acting like his love struck son did with that June Moon chick, too old to be falling for a woman who gave him nothing but shit consistently and who’d tried to claw him to death on their first mission the first time you and him fought together.

You were a lot of other things too, however: the first one to save him from an explosion, the first to earnestly ask for his help despite how begrudging you’d obviously been, someone who let him rant about shit without telling the others, who lit up so fantastically at certain things it made him feel a little lighter himself, the woman outcasted from your place of birth that talked him into (ie: verbally tore him apart) finally going to visit Rick’s grave at his, and you’re accent was like fucking silk. So really, who could blame him if he was falling a little in love?

A lot of people, but he’s choosing to ignore that.

Really, there’s better things he could be watching so closely. G.I. was one, he was always one, and Eric was unpredictable and volatile enough Flag was convinced he needed to be watched even closer than Weasel. Or maybe he could even be paying more attention to the literal mission they were on, but still it was you who’d captured his attention the most.

After he catches himself and realizes he’s been ogling you silently for the better part of five minutes he doesn’t watch you as closely as he genuinely wants to. You’re both not dancing for him and are supposed to be working, he needs to get himself under control.

Rick wants to keep his eyes on you, though, and has definitely been letting himself get dragged along in this game of push and pull that you're playing with him.

Jesus fucking Christ if Waller could see him now…

Because of you making a point to stare him down, raise a brow, and then step into the collective mass of dancing bodies to wukup and jam and sing in a shadowy part of the area — getting even closer to where their primary target was throwing back shots surrounded by a wall of women, and basically daring Rick to stop you if he thought he was big and bad enough — Rick ends up taking his frustration out on everyone else on the team.

You’re taking risks, but he can’t deny that even in between your singing the intel you're giving him is good. Plus, you didn’t want anything major going down in your home island any more than Rick did; more so than he did, even. So all he can do is redirect his frustration at you not following his instruction and potentially putting yourself in danger.

Rick wishes he could feel half of what you’re feeling. That he could enjoy the music shaking his teeth and feel the freedom you clearly do in your movements and in being surrounded, however briefly, by your people even ostracized as you now were as a “creature”.

Instead of that he’s been tasked to lead. He might not have you back under control yet — he’ll get to wrangling you back into working if you don’t do so yourself, but he wants you to enjoy the reprieve for now — but he can nitpick the hell out of everyone’s positions until he’s got a cacophony of people bitching and groaning in his ears and his lips are twitching up into less of a frown as he keeps half an eye on you.

Though nothing gets him as close to smiling as when you finally deem yourself satisfied (or as satisfied as you’re ever going to get as a imprisoned woman who’ll never be able to go anywhere uncovered lest she incite a mob) and slide up to him. You don’t do anything so transparent as laugh or cheer, but you do grin at him — your pretty brown eyes nice and wild — and for a second Rick feels himself grinning back.

THE BRIDE

The Bride is the main recipient of your uncharacteristically excited rambling (or uncharacteristically happy grumbling, depending on your personality), but that soft spot she has for you keeps her drawn in to listening to you talk yourself breathless instead of doing her usual and sleeping through the flight to Waller’s next suicide mission.

After you land and the two of you have been left more or less alone while the others stick closer to and/or bother Flag, you tell her all about your plans to slack off a little this go around. How you’re going to milk as much fun out of the Carnival experience as you can before you’re forced to wheel yourself back in.

When you ask that Bride please just let you have a little fun and not tattle, she scoffs. For one, she’s not a fucking child, she doesn’t tattle. For two, she wasn’t your keeper, so long as you kept out of trouble and didn’t get in her way she didn’t care what you got up to.

Except she’d really really hate to see you popped, actually.

The Bride is a bit flattered that you thought to consider her in your plans and that you wanted to ask her permission. She still thinks you're an absolute fucking idiot to risk yourself over something so small, though, don’t get her wrong. Even if she’s got little to stand on with her judgement there.

As far as you’re concerned there was little point in taking these missions if you weren’t going to maximize your “freedom” from Blackgate while it lasted.

Honestly it had been just your luck that this week’s mission from Waller had sent you to this part of the Caribbean during Carnival at all. Even if it wasn’t where you were from, the island and her festivities would surely be enjoyable regardless.

That your main goal for the majority of the first and second nights was recon and observation was an even better plus. Now you didn’t even need to sneak off.

It doesn’t take long for The Bride to be reminded of why she��s kept away from sandy areas in the last several decades. Sand was a bitch to get out of her stitches.

While you’re doing recon Bride just disinterestedly watches you dance around her and drinks from the almost comically small glass of spiked slushie in her hand, little green paper umbrella and all. She has like seven of these and isn't even near tipsy, and for someone who is trying to get drunk that tendency of her metabolism is really getting irritating.

The fact she lets you near her at all isn’t permission in and of itself to stay by her while you act a fool. Bride tolerates your presence just fine on a regular basis, but that was it. When she sees you vibrating where you stand, softly singing along to familiar songs you haven’t heard in years while bouncing in place to the beat, and then gestures halfheartedly in front of her where people are jamming all while raising a brow at you, though, that’s permission. Hell, it’s practically an invitation.

One that you take her up on very vigorously at that. Nina might be shaking head at the two of you, but you can see her hiding a little giggle when you start playing around while you dance regardless. And if it gets a little scoff out of Bride then that’s just a happy bonus.

You’re not going to act like coming down here to have fun wasn't your main goal. The second you’re out of Flag’s sight you start blowing the mission off. Of course you keep a passing track of your targets, but with the mission only being about observing the assholes you think it’s only fair you get to do something entertaining enough that you don’t die of boredom.

You wukup not because you have to, but because you want to. And you do it near where Bride’s leant against the counter of a pop-up bar because you want to too; want her to notice you, maybe make a move.

After all you guys were in lock up, not a nunnery.

You pull out every trick in the book that still flatters your inhuman body, letting the soca beats flow through you like a woman starved all the while, and if it weren’t for Bride’s occasional grunts in reaction to something you’ve done you’d think it wasn’t having any effect at all.

Internally Bride is a lot more invested in what you're doing than even you can tell, and definitely more than the bloody mission you're on. She just makes a good show of seeming like she isn’t.

The only bearable thing about the heat that saw Bride ditching her jacket in the vehicle Flag drove them in was the salt twinged breeze blowing through the short buildings with their colorfully tiled roofs. The fact that you were showing as much skin as you could get away with due to the heat wasn’t lost on her either.

Bride finds a beauty in you she hasn’t seen in anyone since Victor. A beauty that’s brought back to life some of the bits of her that died with her creator, and brings technicolor back to the bits of her that turned dull and grey as Eric continued his relentless pursuit of her.

She couldn’t deny you your whims or resist your draw if she wanted to.

The way her heart speeds up when you crack a joke about a song’s lyrics or a singer's entrance, and how she has to bite her tongue so she doesn’t laugh too obviously. The full on blush she sports when you start dancing with some drunk man in a way he clearly likes but only look her way as you work your waist in his hold, and how she wants to snap all of his fingers and wrench his hands off of you. All of that lets Bride know she’s in trouble and you’re liable to be caught in a crossfire that's been brewing for over a century.

She’s going to have to push you away soon, but ‘soon’ didn’t have to be tonight.

It’s one of the world’s most dangerous games of chicken, working around Eric Frankenstein’s unwanted possessiveness of The Bride. You’re fully aware he’s watching you and Bride too, you just don’t give a shit. Voyeuristic jackass.

Part of you likes antagonizing him.

Revels in the fact that he can’t kill you as easily as he’d like and the fact that you and the man both know it. That you were barely asking for Bride’s attention and she was willingly offering it when years worth of groveling for her attention yielded nothing for him but a fist to the face.

Every time Victor Frankenstein’s Monster comes into view and Bride clocks him lurking (and trying to set you in particular on fire with his gaze) she scoffs and makes a point of putting her back to him and moving you in the process.

It probably makes Eric blue vex every single time The Bride touches you just enough to nudge you from his view.

Bride is more gentle than she needs to be when she steps in closer to you and uses her knee to nudge you in the hip — she does it so softly, in fact, that you don’t fully comprehend her urging you to the side, it’s so out of character with what you’re used to from her, and just move.

Bride is quite fond of how easily you move at her prompting, reluctant as she is to admit it. Still, after she gets you to move, she backs back up to give you space again.

You mourn the way she towers over you in those scant few seconds. Like how harmless it makes you feel, how wholly encompassed by her presence you are, how much of her undivided attention is on you.

Despite everything Bride likes to watch, and it’s clear you're putting on a show for her even though she can’t indulge either of your desires.

You are most definitely not as on high alert as you should be as you’re jamming and singing along to the live band them, but with Bride specifically at your back you couldn’t find it in you to feel unprotected. Bride was quick on the response, and there’d never been a time when you two were working together that she’d been laid out by a hit for long (especially if there wasn’t magic involved).

Bride notices how forlornly you stare at the women still in their colorful Carnival gear from the earlier parades and snags you a feather that matches the only accent color on your mostly all black uniform.

When you preen at her she grumbles to herself, brushing your thanks off, but you hardly let that stop you and start talking away about the importance of the feathers as you finally slip from the crowd to get back to work. And Bride let’s you.

You might want to fuck around with Eric’s self control, but The Bride knows what will happen and that’s a lot of the reason why she won’t show any obvious interest in you. Quite frankly it’s mostly the fact that you’re a woman that’s letting her have as much contact with you (and Nina) as she has because he hasn’t figured out that was an option Bride would go for, and she’d like to keep it that way.

In the end you all survive. Although, she has picked up a few more worries, most pressing being that you seem to enjoy egging Eric on and that she thinks smug looks quite sexy on you.

Once you’re all back in your cell block and she starts complaining about there still being sand in between her damned stitches she can’t help but grow a bit more smitten with you when you pull her grumpy ass to a bench and get to meticulously ridding her of any remaining granules.

‘Soon’ would have to wait another day more to come.

DR PHOSPHORUS | ALEXANDER SARTORIUS

Phosphorus wants to touch you so badly. He’s not blind, he can see all the ways everyone else is dancing together and he wants to get up underneath you like that, to feel your hips against his; for a second, honestly, he does consider it but he already knows what will happen so he doesn’t give in to the urge.

He’s not in any particular rush to get the shit knocked out of him today, or to honestly fight you.

It’s still decidedly entertaining to think about what he’d be doing if he could touch you though, if he could plant his hands on your hips without your flesh boiling beneath his touch cause he’s too excited to temper himself— and a little entertaining to think about what would happen if he touches you in reality, but really he can’t be blamed for mere curiosity. It couldn’t be helped.

Phosphorus likes you too much to actually want to hurt you anyway, just obviously not enough to stay away from you or stop managing to share close quarters with you (yes, even when you’re asleep).

He used to be far more considerate about things like that, he knows. Everything is just too distorted now, the man he was too purposefully forgotten to drag back up.

If he can’t touch you (even when his temperature control is stable) he figures he should at least be able to watch you as much as possible. The good thing about not having visible eyes, too, was that he could keep his gaze on you all the time and no one could call him out on it.

Phosphorus loves whenever you feel his gaze on you and turn your pretty head to glance around. Loves the little twitch of unease you give when you can’t quite figure out that he’s watching you out of the corner of his eyes, and just generally being able to catalog all your reactions and micro expressions to what’s going on around you guys without you noticing.

So you can imagine how much Phosphorus takes in his visual fill when you start bouncing in place while you guys are on lookout together; keeping the perimeter secure around your group of targets, making sure no one was unaccounted for, and the like.

You always operate particularly gingerly around him (so long as the mutation that made you into a monster didn’t make you impervious to long exposure to radiation) — an effect on you Phosphorous doesn’t fail to revel in; it makes him smile a lot when you tense around him, though you obviously can’t tell — and so he completely forgets about bothering to pretend he cares about the mission you’re on when you start tapping your finger on the handle of your weapon or tapping your hand on the side of your thigh.

If the tapping took him by surprise, then the way you start bouncing on the balls of your feet in time with the beat pounding around you makes him choke on nothing. You notice, and boy does he like the way it makes you startle, but the great thing about getting turned into the absolute freak of nature that he is now is that not having expressions for people to read makes them more likely to dismiss what his opinions on little things like being caught doing something mildly embarrassing might be.

You go back to ignoring him easier than most would assume and get lost back in your head when a song you clearly recognize starts playing and you start singing along. Automatically Phosphorus pays more attention to the punchy beats and slick lyrics, but it’s not his kind of music and there’s too much about the dialect he doesn’t understand so he dismisses it quickly as a ‘you thing’ and just raises his brow, smirking as he listens to you.

Even strapped securely in gear and covered in fur or scales or whatever your body’s still killer and a sight to behold when you finally start to move your hips. And when your ass starts to circle he isn’t ashamed to say he doesn’t look away.

Although your movements are subtle he’s enraptured anyway.

Everything about the way you’ve acted since you got to the Caribbean has been telling and after such a show Phosphorus kind of wants to know more. If only because it’s you and because he is bored.

It’s…rare for him to find himself legitimately interested in anybody anymore. Let alone the way he desires you, the way he wants to keep you. A lot of him doesn’t really want to succumb to that seeming howling need — the need to find connection in you, to touch, to possess. The parts of him he’d thought completely eradicated after his “incident” weren’t giving him much of a choice in the matter, though.

—

When he leans back into the wall behind him and its peeling colorful paint, he crosses his arms, gives up any pretense of caring about his mission parameters, and stares at your ass.

Wining your waist. That’s what you're doing if the punchy instructions to the song currently blasting through the night air are to be believed, and he likes it.

Phosphorus starts bouncing one of his legs some with the beat, too. In tandem with your sway and bounce.

He clears his throat.

“So, what’s all this for anyway?”

“…what…?”

At first when you turn to him it’s rather absent, you’re still noticeably trying to keep an ear out for the live bands and bask in the lively chatter surrounding you both from below. Once you clock his leant position and the angle of his head your mood shifts entirely, however.

You stand up taller, glaring, and Phosphorus shivers at all that undivided attention of yours trying to pin him in place.

It wouldn’t work. Far more intimidating people have tried to ‘put him in his place’ or have attempted even dumber shit like trying to ‘appeal to his humanity or humility’ before and it’s yet to work out for any of them.

Wouldn’t work with you either, didn’t matter how much he couldn’t get enough of those dark eyes staring directly at him. Part of him wants to pluck those pretty brown cognacs out to wear around a chain. He won’t, but your eyes were their own type of diamonds he desperately wanted to preserve in a collection.

“…Were you just staring at my ass?”

Phosphorus gasps, jerks himself upright.

He makes a show of acting like he’s about to refute you, like he could never. Like he’s about to go ‘that’s presumptive’ and give you shit about not considering the fact that he’s visually a glow in the dark skeleton. Walking, talking, and killing, sure, but still with no discernible features.

He puts his hand over his heart for a second and everything.

Really, though, he’s just giving you a performance so you keep glaring at him.

“Spit it out already,” you snap.

The walking radiation bomb laughs. He does wave his act off still, leaning forward just to watch you jerk away in response to heat he’s only mostly keeping at bay— you could technically touch him right now if you wanted, but Phosphorus isn’t holding his breath.

“Alright alright,” he says, laughing lowly to himself as he stuffs his hands in his pockets so he can shrug. “I was totally watching, you have a nice ass.”

There’s a herculean effort that goes into you not knocking him down two stories, he can see it in your body language.

“You’re going to stop watching,” you declare, the growl in your voice prominent.

He shrugs, gives less grief to you for ordering him around than he would anyone else still currently breathing, “Fair enough.”

Phosphorus would, however, absolutely be in mourning over it.

When you close in on him, Phosphorus lets his back flatten against the wall where he wouldn’t in any other situation. Let’s himself bend for you that tiny bit more. He wants to see what you’ll do. To know how far he can push you.

He smiles. You clearly don’t notice. He doesn’t mind.

You bare your teeth— they’re sharp and he suddenly wants to feel them breaking his irradiated skin, “What is it that you want, Doctor?”

Doctor. Jesus Christ, he’d moan if he didn’t know that’d really make you throw him off the roof.

Phosphorus didn’t have much of an attachment to his old professional standing, and for good fucking reason, but something about how your voice wraps around such a respectful moniker in reference to him always makes him a little lightheaded.

Head tilting, he holds a finger up to point back to the expanse of writhing bodies beyond the roof.

“Well I did ask earlier.”

The fact that you don’t buss him upside the head is more a testament to your own patience — and no doubt your ability to bid your time — and less so Phos’s powers, especially since he’s not even using them.

You do spend the rest of the time explaining Carnival to him, but he’s not really listening. Not to your words.

He gets the vibe that you’re aware of his actual disinterest for your answers considering your monotone delivery. The whole time it’s like you’re being forced to give a middle school presentation with a gun to your head and Phosphorus doesn’t even mind because what he’s focused on is the tones of your voice, the restless shift of your body when a song comes on you’d clearly like to be paying more attention to, how you force him pettily to focus on the actual content of your words as you explain emancipation and why everything is so goddamned brightly colored.

The fact that he’s stealing your attention makes him deliciously frustrated. Phosphorus stands there for most of the night and learns more than he cares to while basically preening under your gaze the entire time. Hell, he nearly melts into a puddle when his eyes wander (his head tilting in response) to one of your targets leaving the perimeter and you grasp him by the jaw tight enough to ache. Forcing his attention back your way like you need his eyes on you just as badly as he does yours.

He wants to touch you. Wants to massage the plush of your ass, and rub you to completion until he gets tears to spring in your eyes and he aches for more. Wishes for certain nerves back for the first time in forever just so he can shove himself down your throat and come undone without burning his way through.

Subsequently, however, he’ll have to settle for your passive aggressive lecturing and relishing in the blood splatter from the way you pop the head of you two’s wayward target.

He kind of loves it.

Pain at picking back up that emotion relative to someone else again be damned.

NINA MAZURSKY | MERMAID

Even despite the fact that you’re still working, Nina keeps feeling the need to remind you to stay on task or else you could meet your impending doom from the bomb implanted in your neck.

It’s a real bummer, you tell her to live a little.

Despite her words, though, Nina both loves the more water based mission and loves listening to you talk about the place you grew up in. She hangs onto your every word and every anecdote you make about how free everything felt back when you were home and about how much you miss the smell of the sea. Nina gets missing the water, it might not be life and death for you but she still understands being homesick (and the bone deep longing for certain environments).

If there’s anyone on the team you’re roping into dancing with you, it’s Nina. She definitely expresses her concern about disappearing from the outskirts of the crowd where Flag can’t see you and into an alleyway of sorts, but you suck your teeth and toss out that there’s trackers literally implanted in your bodies as you drag her away.

She bitches the whole time but never once resists your lax hold or walks back to her post once you let her hand go.

The sea creature only occasionally bumps into anyone or is bumped into herself, and apologizes excessively all while looking at you bouncing effortlessly between people and turning back to smile at her every once in a while.

The two of you get stares, there’s no avoiding it when you resemble creatures out of a horror novel, but most everyone is far too intoxicated to dwindle on your appearances as you find someplace less crowded and with a bit more privacy.

When you finally convince Nina to dance with you — after urging her to relax with soft looks as you project your voice over the music to talk her through it and hold out your hands for her to grab — she starts off slowly, cringing at herself as she tries to find the rhythm.

It’s hard when she’s watching your hips to do it, trying to copy how you move your waist without being reduced to a stammering mess. She gulps and blushes through it, her steps stuttering as she slowly catches on to your movements and starts engaging her waist in a circular motion to wine, her eyes wide.

It’s a thing of beauty watching Nina let herself go loose. It takes what feels like forever, but once she starts shyly copying your movements — less a wine, more a sway of her hips side to side — Nina glances up to you with a wide smile, lashes fluttering as she looks for your approval, and for a moment you feel faint.

The both of you have a great time, though. Giggling and dancing and playing around over the sounds of music and people. And with Bride keeping a lookout for you, you don’t have to worry about people stumbling on your or Flag cutting your two person party short.

Only one person causes any actual problem for you both that night, actually. The culprit: some woman who thought you were eyeing her dude as they were walking past you and Nina, too drunk to realize that your tree wasn’t one she wanted to bark up.

When she turns to call you out, yelps as her eyes widen in fear and then snaps out a startled call of “freak” you’re already rolling your eyes. Once her man starts trying to start some shit too, puffing up his chest and staring at you and Nina like you’re evil you figure you’re going to end the night pissed off too. It’s not you who shuts them down, though; no, it’s Nina who tentatively pulls you behind her and then starts clumsily chewing the couple out for being stupid presumptive assholes.

Eventually you end up having to knock them out, Nina letting out a squeak of surprise as they both crash to the ground. While Nina angry is really doing it for you and you’re flattered that she’s come to your defense, if they got any louder you’d get people’s attention and that was the last thing either of you needed.

Nina’s gloved fists are balled tightly once the couple is no longer an issue and you run your hands over them until she relaxes. She apologizes profusely, flushing, but you wave her off and make her flush worse when you compliment her on her mean streak.

After having watched Nina promptly pepper they raas you’d swear your pupils had turned into hearts if you didn’t know any better. It’s like Bride can see them anyway when she snorts and rolls her eyes at you two when ayo finally emerge from the alley to get back to work.

By the end of the mission Nina’s relaxed again, has acquired plenty of beaded necklaces that she’s bunched along her arms and desperately wants to try conch after watching it be prepared for fritters through a food truck's back window. The fried food itself wasn’t necessarily what she was interested in, though you did seem to enjoy the basket you snatched. Nina more so wants to get in the sea to taste them more sashimi style (but without the rice).

Nina also has to admit that she absolutely loves the availability of sea water right off of the house that was rented for the team to recuperate in.

When you sneak out to the beach just beyond your home base you’re in a bathing suit that makes Nina stutter and fully prepared to relax in the sand with a towel until the sun comes up.

Still, you relegate an hour or so to getting into the water with Nina. Marveling some at just how sure and competent she was in the ocean.

In the cover of night you guys can just exist without having to worry about people getting in your way. Can just freely be the ‘monstrous’ creatures you now are for this short amount of time.

Eventually everyone else trickles out of the house with similar ideas of enjoying the beach, even Flag, but Nina doesn’t mind. She just stays lurking in the water, her gums itching for blood in a way she can actually satisfy for once.

There’s no judgement in your eyes when she attacks a fish, your eyes just glitter and you move easily to share some sugar apple you plucked from a tree on your way back to base with her, wiping off the trail of blood coming from her mouth.

She lets you feed her the sweet creamy fruit, looking you in the eyes without the bowl as a barrier for once as her heart pounds a mile a minute in her chest. This is one of the better days of her life, and she tells you as much.

When you smile at her you're more captivating than the stars. When you tell her you're glad and that you agree, especially because she’s here with you, while running the pad of your finger over one of the fins atop her head she shivers and aches for a press of your lips to hers that’s way softer than a bite.

G.I. ROBOT

“Friend Y/n, is visibly excited; is it because there are a lot of Nazis where we’re going?” “—No! No, definitely not. There’s no Nazis there, G.”

Or, at least, not any you knew of (anything was possible and people came from everywhere). Certainly not enough people that were gonna be in the J’ouvert and Carnival crowds to justify letting G.I. get too excited about it.

G.I. doesn’t understand your excitement but he’s not going to begrudge you it or anything either.

In fact, I think G.I. would ask you questions about everything (so long as he saw you as a friend and not just as a handler of some sort).

You’re eager to answer him, eyes bright while you talk as you look him in the face. When he scans you and all signs point to you being happy G.I. feels a small sense of satisfaction at having helped.

When a group of people shove past you to get to the nighttime Carnival activities, you grunt as you’re checked and have to bite back the urge to yell at them and draw attention to G.I. and you. Instead you settle for glaring at them and cussing them out stink under your breath. Your irritation obviously doesn’t go unnoticed by G.I. — even if he wasn’t personally bothered by the shoves — and he offers to get rid of them for you if it will make you feel better. He shifts his hand into his usual embedded gun and all.

It’s such an insane thing to offer, but so true to the robot, that you snort and are knocked out of your angry ranting entirely. You redirect him after that, reaching up to fix the hood of his hoodie where it was pushed back and concealing his head back in its shadows.

G.I.’s eyes still glow red in the shroud of darkness and you tell him it looks sick as fuck before ayo go back to monitoring the parimeter as the rest of the team calls out updates about where the targets are.

After that you start back up telling him about the islands. You miss being home, miss the food, miss feeling the wind blow through your tight curls and dressing up in your feathers and jewels to ramp up and down while wukkin’ up your waist with no abandon. Hell, even now you can’t participate in Carnival and you fucking hate that.

G.I. doesn’t like how upset you are even if he can’t quite articulate how to help. Eventually he settles on asking why you can’t just dance while you’re with him since the music is loud enough to hear from your positions.

Reluctantly, you agree. Once you start dancing as you walk with him you’re far less grumpy though, laughing to yourself as you explain your moves to him while he silently studies you.

When you take one of his hands in yours while you’re patrolling in order to bounce his hand off your own to the beat, he only stares at you. He doesn’t object though and takes to inquiring about some of the more confusing (to him) lyrics in the songs and even starts humming along to the music with you as you dance around him.

He’s got the spirit.

You guys are dragged away before you can sneak off to the food trucks and food stands by the time the first leg of the team’s recon wraps up. To your utter mortification you can feel your lip quiver in your disappointment and keep to yourself more than usual the entire way back to home base, G.I. sitting beside you in the van.

It isn’t until you guys are parked outside the house you’re renting and you two are left in the van last that G.I. shifts and holds his hand out. In it sits a little cup of pastry and jammed fruit. And, yeah, the tart he’d snatched for you just came from his hand but you giggle and eat it anyway, moving to hug him from the side before you do.

G.I. can’t smile, but he does actively lean into your embrace and you take that as expression enough.

WEASEL

Because of the flight risk you present since the Commandos’ next mission is on the island you were born on during one of the busiest tourist days of the year, you’re stuck on Weasel Duty.

Even relegated to the van with him as you are, you’re still close enough (the target was using all the cuhruckle of Carnival as cover) to the festivities that you can hear the music clearly.

Weasel is fairly pleasant company all things considered, but you still throw a fit about being left with him and toss little glares at him every time a group of excited people pass close to the vehicle you're holed up in. It feels like salt being rubbed into a wound.

You want to kill something. Preferably Flag. Then you’d go for Waller.

All that frustration eventually coalesces into the burn of unshed tears in your eyes as you plop down on the floor with gritted teeth and push the heels of your palms into your eyes.

You were not going to cry right now. What the fuck?

Weasel rouses from where he’s squeezed himself into the corner furthest from you, making a small inquiring noise that you ignore.

He whines over your sniffling though, and shuffles over to you with his body still low to the floor while you’re too busy trying to beat your emotions back to notice.

He pokes at your hand with a clawed finger and you startle so badly you knock the back of your head into the metal wall.

Instead of running away his head tilts and his eyes squint in what you interpret as (possibly) sympathy.

Weasel sniffs. You sneer at him. He’s not scared enough to back off and only chitters in response.

It’s…weird. Weasel doesn’t smell or anything, but he is still effectively a naked human man covered in fur and you can’t stop yourself from squinting wet eyes at him as he lowers himself and curls up next to your leg on the van floor.

Weasel’s claws stay retracted the entire time despite your dubious looks. He just looks up at you with those ridiculously large eyes, his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he pants due to the heat.

There were laws against leaving dogs in hot cars, weren’t there?

All it takes is him nudging you with his nose and making another little noise to have you reaching down to scratch over his head. It makes his leg twitch like a dogs and it’s as endearing as it is fucked up.

It’s calming though and the soft content sounds he makes are nice. Allows you to be able to enjoy what little of your home you can bask in right then, the music mingling with the natural ambiance around you.

You definitely crack the windows though, it was too hot for that fuck.

In thanks (after everyone’s finished for the night) you sneak out with him to feed him goat. Live goat, obviously. Though you leave it at just the one for the stable owner’s sake.

The crack of bones and squelch of blood is tolerable mostly because you snapped the animal's neck before tossing it to him (otherwise the bleats would’ve given you away). The way Weasel peeks up at you from over the dead body, lower half of his face covered in blood, is even kind of cute. You’ll admit it, he wasn’t too bad.

Weasel does try offering you some meat off the things’ carcass but, face screwed up, you decline his offer with a short laugh.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! I want to write more stuff with The Bride, she’s so cool and there’s so many interesting character beats to delve into with her. I knew I’d love her.

I cannot fucking stand Frank Grillo, but Flag’s characterization is pretty fun to work with. I think Flag might just stay dead too, because in the comics “Frankenstein” (ie: Eric) is the leader of the team at times, but idk because we know Flag Sr. is supposed to appear in other shows and movies.

Also, listen, I don’t even like Dr. Phosphorus like that but playing around with his personality like this got away from me and I just started writing. Phos’s personality is taken from the episodes that have since come out, but with the last two episodes not out yet I am inferring certain aspects of his personality with only the scarce information from the 1x06 promo. Like, I think I wrote myself into liking him because then I was retroactively forced to reconsider him more closely and actually pay attention to his character.

The title of this is from the song “Movement” by Hozier; a decision I made after writing this and noticing how well the song fit, which is why this isn’t a lyric prompt type thing.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[acey-wacey]

HIHI!!! I LOVED YOUR CHARACTER IS JEALOUS OF TSUM FIC!! (please I'm begging write more, it's too good)

Of course! I'm glad everyone liked them so much :)))

...

Jealous of Their Tsum

Feat Lilia, Rook, Kalim

...

🦇 Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

You're honestly used to Lilia popping out to scare you around campus.

Ever since you'd seen that Lilia had gotten an adorable doppelganger, you knew it would come to find you, just like the seemingly young boy always did.

It wasn't entirely unexpected when a little plushie landed on your head.

You were monetarily startled by the sudden ambush but you soon realized it was Lilia's tsum.

You laughed as the tsum blinked it's little dot eyes at you expectantly.

"You got me so good, Lilia-tsum," you praised the little bean while it hopped into your head and shoulders in glee. "Very scary."

You grabbed the tsum from where it was bouncing on your head and held it to your chest.

"You are just so adorable! I can't handle it!"

The tsum wiggled happily in your grasp and you pressed kisses to it's fabric forehead.

"How come I never get this when I scare you?"

You turned around to find Lilia hovering upside down behind you.

He did that to you so often you weren't even startled anymore.

You just smiled and flicked his forehead, earning a shocked stare from the boyish fae.

"Try being cuter next time."

Lilia frowned and dropped to the ground, landing gracefully on his feet.

"Is this face not cute enough for you?"

Lilia pouted at you with his best sad puppy dog eyes.

You, now immune to Lilia's antics, went right back to pressing smooches to his adorable tsum.

Lilia narrowed his eyes at the smug plush.

"Traitor," he whispered under his breath.

He could've sworn the tsum winked at him.

"If you want some affection, Lilia, you should try asking," you said nonchalantly while nuzzling your face into the tsum's.

Lilia vaguely sensed a trap but he would rather die than lose the object of his affections to a stuffed version of himself.

"Well then, my darling," he batted his eyelashes at you, making you smile. "Please?"

...

🏹 Rook Hunt 🏹

Rook left his tsum alone for 5 seconds and it was already gone.

Of course he couldn't expect anything less.

Curiosity was in his nature so of course his plush doppelganger would run away to explore a new world.

The tsum happily explored the NRC campus pausing often to appreciate the beauty of the unfamiliar world.

However, when you walked by on your way to class, the tsum was immediately entranced by your beauty.

It bounced after you and followed you around with hearts in its eyes.

After a while alone, you had begun to wonder what the strange noise from behind you was.

You turned around only to find an adorable round plushie hopping up and down on the ground.

It looked suspiciously like Rook so you narrowed your eyes at it.

"Have you been following me?"

The tsum squinted its eyes happily.

You laughed and bent down to look closer at the little creature.

"If I tell you to stop, will you?"

The tsum shook its body in what you assume to be a no.

"Just like the real Rook then," you groaned lovingly and unbuttoned the breast pocket of your jacket, opening it to the tsum.

"If you're gonna be here for a while, might as well get comfy, eh?"

The tsum eagerly hopped into your pocket and squirmed around with glee.

"You're actually kinda cute, you know that?"

You said to the tsum with a faint smile, scratching its head with one finger.

The plushie nuzzled into you and you patted it back affectionately.

"I must say, prefect, I am awfully jealous."

You smiled at the familiar sound of Rook's voice and paused, waiting for him to show himself.

You never looked around for him because you knew seeing you startled and frantic was just what he wanted.

Little did you know it was what he loved most about you.

"The great Rook Hunt, jealous of a tiny plushie," you said with a smug smile in your voice. "How low you have fallen."

Rook almost instantly appeared beside you with a sly smile.

"Not nearly as far as I intend to for you, mon chou." Rook clutched his chest dramatically. "But to see your affection passed on to one so similar to me and yet so different, oh, it breaks my fragile heart."

"Then I'm sorry, Rook, but your heart will have to stay broken as long as my adorable little pocket pal is around," you patted the tsum again, earning a joyful bounce.

Rook only sighed in response.

"There may yet be a day when I replace my fiendish friend as the object of your affections but until then, may you know my heart waits for you, my love."

You were frustratingly flustered by the sudden confession.

Rook always said sappy stuff like that but for some reason, it hit different this time.

You didn't say anything until he began to walk away.

"Hey, wait!"

Rook shopped to look over his shoulder at you.

"Come on, Rook," you groaned with a blush dusting your cheeks. You lifted the tsum out of your pocket, much to its dismay, and set it gently on the ground. "You don't get to say something like that and then walk away without kissing me!"

Rook smiled and ran to wrap you in his arms.

"If this is my reward, I should get jealous more often."

...

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim and his tsum are inseparable, much to Jamil's chagrin.

It's hard to find one without the other especially when it comes to you.

Both Kalims flock to you as soon as they see you.

On one notable occasion, Kalim-tsum was a bit faster to bounce after you.

The plush launched into your arms, causing you to drop the notebooks you were holding.

You scowled lightheartedly at the adorable tsum in your arms.

"I don't suppose you're going to help me clean this up?"

You raised an eyebrow at the tsum but it just cocked its head at you.

You sighed and set the tsum onto your shoulder as you bent down to pick up your books.

"It seems every version of Kalim is determined to cause me trouble," you sighed, booping the little critter on the nose.

It wiggled its little button nose and hopped backwards on what you assumed was a sneeze.

You laughed and took the plushie back into your hands, tucking your books under your arm.

"I can't stay mad at you, you're too cute!"

You looked at the tsum helplessly susceptible to its charms.

"Hi, Y/N!"

You looked up to see Kalim running toward you.

He saw the tsum in your arms and beamed at you.

"I see you found my doppelganger! Pretty cool, right?"

"Yeah, he's pretty adorable," you cooed as you pinched the little things cheeks.

Kalim pouted and set his head on your hands right next to where you were holding his tsum.

"Why does he get to be adorable and not me?"

You held back a laugh at the puppy-like glint in Kalim's eyes.

The tsum hopped up onto Kalim's head and you took the opportunity to grab Kalim's cheeks and bring your face close to his.

"You're a whole different kind of adorable."

At that, Kalim beamed, automatically squishing his face into your hands.

That did earn a laugh from you and you couldn't help but kiss his nose.

"You are the absolute cutest, Kalim. No tsum can top that."

[lovetei]

Okay, this have been on my mind for a while now…

So! MC in the manga is a sheep (get turn into a sheep because they aren’t familiar with the magic? Idk). I was just wondering that at the end of the exchange programme how would the boys react to Mc’s “true form”

This is such an interesting thing to write 🖤

By the way, this is another request stuck in my drafts, I promise I'll try to make up for it and post more :')

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Their reaction to Sheep MC changing into their human form at the end of the exchange program

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, no proofreading, wrong grammar, spelling errors, kind of long

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER

It was the end of the exchange program and he's seeing you off

A large portal behind your back

For you, it might be the portal that will lead you to the freedom and whatever normality this program took away from you for a whole year

The portal that you've been waiting for

But for him, it's nothing but a spiral of magic that takes away the only comfort he has

The comfort that he seek for

And his twisted heart aches whenever he remembers it

But he hides it off with a smile and a wave

He waved at you one last time before you turned around

"Uhm... I feel weird-"

What?

The extreme feeling of despair left his body for a second and was covered with confusion

That soon turned into worry as your sheep form completely fell to the ground

The noises you're making is not normal and they're all panicking because they've never heard of it before

And the fact that you started glowing didn't ease their mind.

Could it be that some higher demon planted some spell inside of you?

IS THAT SPELL SUCCESFUL?!-

MC..?

He looked at you shock

No, more like-

He looked at your new form, shocked.

The way your naked body is laying on the ground right in front of him...

Right in front of them..?

He can't help but sigh and thought that, everything would have been fine, perfect even, if you turned into this form in front of him

But no, you just have to turn into your original self in front of everyone

Now he can't even embrace you.

All he did was take his coat off and throw it to your body as his face flush red.

You turned around to look at them as you clutch his coat with that adorable expression before you run off and enter the portal

He's left there, shocked and speechless

He didn't know what the hell just happened

But what's he's sure of is that he's going to get you back

And you're going to show that expression to him one more time

But that time, it will just be the two of you, alone.

MAMMON

This man is bawling his eyes out

His original plan is to watch you leave as he cries and once you're gone he will walk it off like a real man, with tear stains of course.

He set his mind to it, gambling for the whole week after you leave so that he can forget you

Even for just a moment

But no,

You won't even let him have the peace of mind

Or leave him with a nice memory

Instead your sheep body dropped to ground and made everyone think that you're about to die!

But you know what more you did?

You turned into a human!

Your human form!

Naked!

He went from 😭 -> 🤨 -> 😮 -> 😭 -> 😳 in a mere minute

He just stood there with a flushed face

A blushing dumbass who don't know what to do but watch as Lucifer threw his coat on you

And watch you run away with that cute expression, embarrassed expression on your face.

Gosh

You drive him insane

Now he's all fired up, willing to destroy the mortal world just to get you back in his arms.

LEVIATHAN

This one too is bawling his eyes out

While holding his camera of course

He's filming every part of this

He's standing there like "WAHHH MCCC! W-Wait is the angle r-right..? I need to capture how b-beautiful MC is..." while sobbing words out.

His hands are holding the camera shakily but the movement suddenly stopped when you said you feel weird...

His eyes shot open and his tears stopped

Are you okay..?

. . .

He's malfunctioning the moment you dropped to the ground and started to glow

And he malfunctioned even more when you turned into your human born, as naked as the moment you were born.

Now his sniper instincts came in and the camera is as focused as a laser

He's staring at you wide eyed, face as red as a tomato and his mouth agape

He doesn't know what's happening

But what he's sure of is that he needs to film it

Everything

The moment you grabbed Lucifer's coat and hugged it to cover yourself

And the moment you stood up and looked at them with that cute expression

But the moment you left, he hid the camera

This film is for his eyes only...

He's gonna need this for a 'project'...

And you know what else he needs?

Tissues.

SATAN

He's smiling everything off as he watches you leave

But you know deep down some anger is boiling

Considering how hot his pact mark is getting

Because, why do you have to leave..? Did he fail to satisfy your standards..?

He can't help but roll his eyes internally

But in the middle of his self talk, you spoke

"I kind of... Feel weird-"

And then you dropped to the ground and he's suddenly panicking

Any other feeling except for confusion flushed out of his body

He ran up to you immidiately but the light dimmed down and your naked body lay before him

He can't help stop in his tracks and just look at you and blush

Before he can even register anything, Lucifer's coat is already hugging your body

Which causes another wave of wrath to hit him

He just glared at Lucifer and saw that he's not even paying attention to him

He's looking at you

With a foreign expression in his face

So he also looked at you and...

Why the fuck did you have to look so majestic..?

You met his gaze and your face flushed before you ran out and entered the portal

He just remained still

Looking at the ground where you once sat

He can't move, he's shaking so much...

He feels like he's about to explode...

ASMODEUS

"WAHHH MCCC!" He whined out as he openly sobbed

He loves you so much!

Just why do you have to leave him!

He can't help but pout at you as you say your final goodbye

But what about him?

Why do you have to leave him too!

I mean it's understandable that you want to leave them because they're all such nuisances to you why him?!

He can't help it-

What do you mean you're feeling weird?

He's slowly walking to your direction

But you started to glow..?

Suddenly he's bearing his teeth expecting enemies around

Oh wait...

Oh...

You're...

Naked...

His mind is scrambled

He completely stopped working

And he'll probably be out of service for the next few days.

BEELZEBUB

He's probably standing there with Belphie in his arms

He's giving you his infamous puppy smile hoping that you'll give him what he wants

Hoping that you'll fall for it like the usual and ran up to him an dsay he's cute instead of leaving

But there's a part in his heart that knows you won't

He's sad and happy at the same time

He's happy because you'll finally live the way you do back then

But he's sad because you have to leave to do so...

Huh?

You're feeling weird..?

You're glowing, MC!

He's shaking Belphegor awake now

What's happening to you-

. . .

He'll be one of the most respectful and cover his eyes

But he's secretly peaking through the gaps

Your flushed face...

Looks so cute...

You look...

You looked delicious...

Just enough to eat...

Now he's hungry.

Hungry for something... New?

Something that includes you.

BELPHEGOR

He's awake actually

He watched everyone, he heard everyone gave their final speeches to you

But when you were about to leave

He forcefully shut his eyes and leaned on Beel

Hoping that his sin would take over and he fell into some deep slumber

But why of all times... Why isn't it cooperating..?

His brows are furrowed as he forces himself to sleep

But suddenly everyone dropped silent...

So you finally left?

Wha- why is Beel shaking him?-

MC?!

Why the fuck are you glowing now?!

No no no...

Is it the work of some demon?!

Who-

. . .

You're... Naked...

In front of everyone...

Haha...

Beel better hold him back or else he's about to run after you and do what his brothers can't

But he knows you won't like that.

So he clinged to Beel-

Haha...

Why do you look like that?!

That's his last thought before he ran and almost caught you but the portal closed

Immidiately.

"Hmm... What a shame~"

He'll make sure he'll catch you next time.

[urhoneycombwitch]

ovulation is INSANE

imagine trying to explain ovulation to Eddie as "my body is evil and it wants to get me pregnant" and you have to preface the week like "if I tell you not to use a condom, do NOT listen to me, it's the demons" because you're horny but don't wanna take any chances and he's like... ah, the demons... interesting... so can I still hit or...?

+18 mdni, cw for cumming inside that hasn't been prev discussed, daddy & breeding kink 🫣

you explain it to him and he goes "oh right like the plot in The Silver Chair." and you're like...?? and then in true Eddie fashion he goes on a ten-minute descriptive story rant about some old book that he read back in grade school where a character was cursed to be confined to a chair and no matter how hard he pleaded no one was allowed to break the spell.

or something. ur not really paying attention because Eddie looks so engaging as he speaks, all doey eyes and big hand movements and curly mane of hair that he shakes out to emphasize his points. it really shouldn't come as a surprise to him when you throw yourself across the couch and into his lap as soon as he's done with the story (he recovers quickly and valiantly, have no fear)

and he's never seen you like this before, desperation leaving no room for a proper dressing down- his pants and boxers are shoved to just his mid-thigh, your panties still on but hooked to one side so you can ride him, with quick rolls of your plush hips that he's currently gripping for dear life.

"fuck, sweetheart," he's gasping out, watching your eyebrows pinch together and your mouth part in a soft O, familiar signs of impending orgasm. "already?"

"told you..." you're swallowing down a whimper so you can speak, gathering the strands of hair at the nape of Eddie's neck between your fingers, his head lolling back against the couch, pliant under your touch. "ovulation horny is a- shit, right there- different beast..."

since you're the one riding, you're doing most of the physical work, but Eddie manages to angle up into that spot that makes your walls clench, his feet planted firmly on the ground to support your weight.

you're so close, he can see it in the way your eyes glaze over and thighs tremble. he's watching you with tipped-back head, half-lidded eyes, staving off his own release to get you to break first when he gets an idea.

"you like riding my cock, baby?" he purrs out, one of his hands leaving your hip to rest warm against your stomach. "want me to fill you up? get you good and pregnant? make you mine?"

any worry that he has about your reaction to this melts away with your moans, the idea shooting straight to your core as you shift your hips faster, pleasure mounting.

"that's it, honey," Eddie encourages, panting out your praises as he feels your walls spasming, choking his cock. "come for daddy and he'll fill you up, just like you w-"

he's cut off by your long, low groan as you obey his words, crushing your forehead against his as he helps you ride out your high. you're gushing around his cock that's quick to follow your lead, spilling his seed deep into you with a throaty groan of his own.

you're both covered in a light sheen of sweat as you come down from your highs, soft laughs mingling as you find your breath again.

"bet that didn't happen in your Silver Chair book," you chuckle, pulling back to press a kiss against Eddie's slack jaw.

"C.S. Lewis can go fuck himself," Eddie says, smoothing a hand down the slope of your back. "got the best plot ever right here."

[paintedonmyteeth]

Hello!! I've been absolutely obsessed with homicipher lately, and I really love the fanfics and hcs you wrote for the characters so far!! You're a really great writer, your style and aesthetic is honestly so good!

I was curious if you had any headcanons for how Mr. Crawling, Mr. Hood, and Mr. Silvair would be with a cane-user reader that has severe leg pain? Like they typically use a cane to help them walk easier, but sometimes they can feel so much pain in their leg that it becomes too much to walk and they sometimes need to sit down or take a break?

Homicipher characters taking care of reader is one of my favorite types of things to read <3 I hope you have an amazing day!

Homicipher Boys w/ Cane!reader

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHh YES I love the concept gbejbfj and I could def see this as a huge cute thing w/ Mr. Hood especially. 10/10, Homicipher boys taking care of the reader are the best HCs hands down gbejfjwj and tysm it makes me happy to hear that others rlly enjoy my work!!!! :D

Mr. Crawling 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling as the absolute fucking sweetheart he is would want to be the biggest help for you when getting around certain areas of the Ghost Apartments.

⭑.ᐟ — At the same time, Mr. Crawling is also disappointed in himself he can’t be much of a help, it’s difficult for him to stand on his own feet for any longer than a few minutes considering he’s used to crawling around.

⭑.ᐟ — Which also means he can’t carry you :((

⭑.ᐟ — The best he can do however is help avoid any places like the boardwalk room with all the water or anything with a ladder so you’re putting less stress on your muscles and your bad leg.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling does his best to try in protect you from any hostile residents (eg. the time you got kidnapped by Mr. Stitch), he’s not trusting anybody that’s not Mr. Silvair, or any other residents you’re not familiar with.

⭑.ᐟ — Ofc break times are also a must have so whenever there’s a room that’s safe to take a breather, he’ll basically lead you by the hand to take a seat and give your bad leg a rest. Cuddles are also given for a bonus <3

Mr. Silvair 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Silvair being kind of like the scientist/doctor, he’s pretty much the best source in getting any help you need for your leg.

⭑.ᐟ — Considering meds or painkillers aren’t things that exist in this ghostly dimension, Mr. Silvair tries finding other alternatives in order to alleviate your severe pain in your leg. Maybe try to work and figure out some sort of 'cure' with what resources and tools he has.

⭑.ᐟ — So with getting a few checkups/experiments done on your body (aka the weird thing going on with your body slowly changing due to staying in the Ghost Apartments), Mr. Silvair also checks in once in a while to see how your leg pain is going and suggests in resting whenever needed. You’re basically more than welcome to use his spare beds when you need them most.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Silvair might’ve found something better from the room with all the trashed items like a crutch for example so you can lean your weight on it a little and it’s somewhat easier to walk around.

⭑.ᐟ — Eventually Mr. Silvair found someway to help out with your leg pains, ofc having injections doesn’t look like to be the safest in normal people standards but yk, you’ll take anything you can get to be free from the pain even if it’s for a small while.

⭑.ᐟ — You might not get around much at this point, but whenever you’re in Mr. Silvair’s place you stay around for a little while during your breaks and Mr. Chopped’s just there keeping you company. :)

Mr. Hood 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Hood sees this as no problem at all tbh (It’s practically a W in Mr. Hood’s books).

⭑.ᐟ — Also fuck your cane honestly, he’s not thinking that ofc, but there’s no reason in needing one if Mr. Hood’s going to carry you all the time??? You can always rely on him to bring you to places you want to go.

⭑.ᐟ — You feel bad and selfish for taking advantage of Mr. Hood this way, but he’s honestly not complaining at all if he gets to hold you close like this whenever he wants. He’s not sure what the fuzzy feeling is but he just likes having you in his arms.

⭑.ᐟ — Sometimes you’d insist you’re able to walk on your own with the cane and you don’t need to be carried, Mr. Hood doesn’t think so, and he’ll still carry you anyways even if you don’t want him to.

⭑.ᐟ — It’s just looks so difficult seeing you struggle to get around certain places in the Ghost Apartments, there’s like a handful of dangerous things and you can’t run at all with that bad leg of yours.

⭑.ᐟ — There’s no need to feel guilty, even if Mr. Hood’s not put together or understand what he’s feeling most of the time, he’ll do anything to help out, keep you safe and protected. :))

[knifedog-machina]

(Non)Humanity and Species Dysphoria: the Forced Transformation Trope

Written by Gavin on August 25, 2024.

As a nonhuman, do you ever think about why there's so many stories and myths and legends about humans being turned into animals? You ever wonder why it's usually a punishment or a curse, or why the characters try to do whatever it takes to become human again? You ever think, "I don't understand, I would love to be an animal and get rid of my human body, what's the problem?"

As a human myself, one whose system has been in the alterhuman community for years, I hope I can help bridge the gap of understanding here.

The way many humans see being turned into an animal as a curse, the way they'd be incredibly distressed about becoming nonhuman?

That is species dysphoria.

That is a human experiencing species dysphoria, because being perceived as nonhuman or other-than-human causes the exact same feelings of pain and wrongness and disconnection from their body that a nonhuman can experience when perceived as human.

(Particularly, this might be an orthohuman, someone who has a normative relationship with their human cultural and species identity, as opposed to an alterhuman, who experiences alternative/nonnormative humanity or a species identity separate from humanity. Human alterhumans can also experience this sort of species dysphoria - hi, I'm one of them.)

Imagine being your species your entire life, the way you know you're intended to be, living in a body you're comfortable in - and then having that body ripped away from you. Being forced to live in a form that doesn't match who you are, what you know you are, and desperately wanting to find a way to change back because you know you're not meant to be like this.

If this sounds familiar because it's what you experience as a nonhuman - that is how a lot of human beings feel about being transformed into something nonhuman. It's the feeling of being the wrong species! It's the desire to return to the form that you know as yourself!

The fact that orthohumans are born into the species they identify as does not mean that they could never comprehend your nonhuman experience. You can explain your nonhuman species dysphoria to an orthohuman. Given all the examples of unwanted transformation stories throughout human history, I think you're likely to find that they'll understand when you put it in that frame of reference.

"How would you feel about being turned into another species against your will, leaving behind everything that feels good and right and comfortable about your human body? That sounds horrible, right? That's how I feel, being nonhuman in a human body, and it's distressing in the same way you would hate being human and stuck in a nonhuman body."

I know that the gap between humanity and nonhumanity looks enormous. The horror of, say, werewolf mythology looks like a completely alien experience when you are a wolf, so you see being transformed into a wolf as nothing short of a wonderful experience, and you don't understand why anyone would see it as horrifying.

But if you understand that it's not about the species, but the experience of species dysphoria, of being trapped in a body that has never been yours and desperately trying to return to one that feels like you, well - that's a lot more understandable, isn't it?

Humanity and nonhumanity are not two opposite ends of a binary, destined to never understand each other. I know many alterhumans who are both human and nonhuman, and their humanity is an identity in much the same way as their nonhumanity. Humans are just another species on this planet, as bipedal tool-using social primates, and we have our species identities just like many nonhumans. You are not as alone in this world as you might think you are.

There is room for understanding and connection. Your experiences as nonhuman are not purely individual, not wholly unique, not utterly incomprehensible to human beings, and this is a good thing. The gap isn't actually as wide as it seems. You can reach out and cross it if you just remember - you have far more in common than you might think.