#is this a bad idea and will i doubt every thing being texted to me and not trust what he’s doing at home? perhaps

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

so what if i like. did the exact same thing again. but with someone who isn’t a scumbag cheater avoidant attachment piece of shit.

[floral-hex]

So, anyways, as I was saying a few days ago (for anyone following my LORE), I got stupid dumb guts sick Friday morning. It was a repeat of a similar incident a couple of weeks ago, so erring on the side of caution, I made an early morning appointment to get it checked out. Easy peasy.

Except, I guess, uhhhh some tornadoes rolled through Arkansas around that time. Luckily for me, I live about 40 minutes away from Little Rock, so I’m okay dokey, but wow… I’m just… seeing LR get hit so bad by tornadoes is kinda messing me up. My dumb brain is always telling me it’s the small towns that get hit, which is… stupid. Stupid thought. I’ve always hated tornadoes. I hate loud thunderstorms. Ever since I was a kid. Gentle rain? Love it. Downpour? Real nice? Heavy rain and Thunder? … ok maybe okay. But tornadoes scare the hell out of me. And apparently there are more on the way.

Segue. Went to the appointment. Hated it. But they gave me some zofran, made me feel like I was over exaggerating, and did some tests, which I still haven’t heard back about, but I’m not dead right now so I suppose they can wait. Hey, so remember when I said I hate tornadoes? Well, I guess ignore that because apparently I was okay driving around while sirens were going off, BUT KEEP IN MIND: 1) I was basically an empty shell after hours of purging and no sleep, & 2) I didn’t realize how bad the weather was going to be because, ya know, I guess I’d been puking instead of checking the weather, for some reason.

Whatever, anyway, since it’s been the weekend, I’ve just been sleeping and playing Yakuza. I feel gross! Why am I writing all this? I don’t know… yeah…

[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, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

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

Chapter 6 - Your Brother | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

Even though things were ‘good’ you couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about what you and Trent were doing. He was in and out of town so often for football it was hard to know what was happening. So, in the midst of flickering doubts, you had decided you would try to create some self-imposed distance to keep your heart safe. You’d gotten to a place where yes… you were sending nudes, videos of you in bed which in itself maybe wasn’t the smartest but it was happening, you were enjoying it in fact. But enjoyment couldn’t mask apprehension. Still, you were keeping everything just on the phone. Keeping everything hush, not even Layla knew how deep things were getting. And while this digital relationship was blossoming, you were keeping the public one that existed in front of everyone’s eyes at an arm's length. And it hurt to be living what felt like a double life.  You two clearly had no self control and that was evident in the text exchanges so keeping your distance felt smart.  With all of that in mind, you hadn’t expected to see Trent at your door this afternoon, let alone embracing you in a cuddle so warm it felt like he hadn’t seen you in ages when it’d been mere days. You stiffened at first, taken by surprise, but quickly melted into him. As much as you tried to pretend you shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this with him, you yearned for this very thing; the physical connection you were trying so hard to keep at bay. You tried to believe that space was the best thing to do to keep yourself safe but the second his arms wrapped around you… the world melted along with you. Memories of him flooding you. It was like he had your heart before you couldn’t even try to stop him from grabbing it. You were powerless and you loved being weak for him. 

“You’re back home.” Your voice was muffled against his skin in the embrace of the hug. He hummed, squeezing you that much tighter. Just as you began to pull back, his grin widened cheekily. 

“Can you wait here f’me? I got something for you.” Before you could respond, He smiled as he darted back out to his car, leaving you standing there, curiosity building, warmth flooding you. When he returned, he was holding a stunning bouquet, petals in shades of blush and deep red. 

“I don’t play footie in the park anymore so I thought you deserve more than a daisy.” He smiled earnestly with a glint in his eyes that almost looked scared. Trent was still grappling with how to show you just how much he cared. He was worried about Jack, sure, but keeping things hush didn’t feel so bad at the minute as long as he showed you he cared. He was looking for that sweet spot of past and present. And so began another attempt. You couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed as you took the flowers, turning them in your hands, admiring every detail. But Trent wasn’t done. “Pretty girl…” He cooed gently to grab you attention off the floral arrangement and back to him. He smirked holding two more bags. You raised your brow with a smile you couldn’t contain anymore. He handed you a sleek Dior shopping bag, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You know like… I was in just France for the game and… well, I saw this, and I just thought of you.” He stumbled through words with a smile. You turned and placed the flowers and the bag on a console in the foyer of the house unboxing it all. Inside was a mini red Dior lady dior, classic, chic, and unmistakably something you loved on sight. Yes, this was very much so a perk of present day Trent. 

“Trent, I—” You looked up at him, stunned, your heart racing. But before you could finish, he interrupted with a cheeky smirk.

“One more thing… because well, in my opinion it matches and…”  As you took the next bag he was pushing towards you and began to open the other, you smirked with a furrowed brow. It wasn't any more designer, instead something priceless. You pulled out a familiar red top you had just seen Trent wearing on the telly during his match days ago. You smiled seeing a Liverpool Alexander-Arnold jersey. One of his own. “If you ever want to wear one,” he said, his eyes softening. “I’d prefer it if it was mine. Because you know… you’re kind of mine.” The words hung between you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You ran your fingers over the bold name and number on the back, biting back a giddy smile. 

“This is… wow, are you sure, baby, It’s a pretty big statement.” you teased, glancing up at him. He stepped closer, his eyes serious, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I mean it.  You’re… You’re so important to me, Y/N.” That moment felt like a declaration all on its own, leaving you feeling lighter and less uncertain, ready to see where this might possibly go.  That maybe it wasn’t all just for behind closed doors. The gift in your hands felt weighty, more than just fabric or leather—it felt like a quiet promise. “I always liked when you were at the park watching me play growing up, and I really like it when you’re at Anfield now watching me.” His words stuck you deep. Maybe he wasn’t just making it all up about having a crush on your growing up in the park. The way Trent looked at you, the softness in his eyes and the little, lingering smile on his lips, spoke volumes. You glanced down at the jersey again, fingertips tracing over the double barreled last name. This wasn’t just a shirt; it was a claim, a gesture that felt almost absurdly personal. He watched you closely, gauging every shift in your expression. His usual confident demeanor softened, almost vulnerable, as he waited for you to say something more. But words felt clumsy in that moment, so you took a small step forward and wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. Trent hugged you back, his hands gentle against your back, pulling you in like he was afraid to let go.

“I… I don’t even know what to say,” you finally whispered into his shoulder, feeling both overwhelmed and elated. You pulled back, just enough to look up at him. “This is… it’s really thoughtful, T, baby.” He gave a little shrug, downplaying the significance. 

“Think about you a lot. I wish I could show you better. This is one way I guess.  And I just thought you’d look better in one mine, yeah?” His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed him. You could see the warmth, the intent behind this small collection of gifts. Grinning, you took the jersey holding it up between you. 

“So… I’m supposed to just wear this and be yours, huh?” You said with a smirk. His grin turned into a smirk. 

“That’s the idea,” he said, stepping in close, his hands finding your waist. “But only if you’re up for it.” You felt your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t break his gaze. His fingers began to play with the hem of the shirt you currently had on. You didn’t expect your heart to stutter the way it did seeing him today. You looked down, biting your lip, feeling almost shy under his gaze. 

“And you’re sure?” you murmured, looking back up at him. He reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, letting his fingers linger just a little longer against your skin. 

“I’ve known you too long not to be.” His voice was low, and there was a sincerity there that felt like a balm to every worry you’d been carrying. Without another word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, soft but intentional, letting yourself believe him. Trent’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, like he was anchoring himself to you. The kiss deepened, and you both sank into it, unhurried, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.  You finally pulled back from the kiss to really look at the jersey still in your hands. It wasn’t from a store it was very clearly one of his. He even had drawn a little heart, in only a way a boy would, but nevertheless cute, on the bottom of the white embossed  #66. The whole thing was incredibly sweet. 

“Guess I know what I’m wearing to the next match I go to. Someone just has to invite me.” You said with a teasing smile.

“You’re always invited but yeah, you better be wearing that,” he chuckled, his eyes shining. “I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna look perfect on you as well.” And with that, you felt some of your doubts fade, replaced by the excitement of whatever was waiting ahead and right now what was waiting was  thick sexual tension creeping in. As you held the soft fabric of the jersey, Trent's eyes sparkled with mischief. He stepped back into you once more, his muscular body radiating heat, planting a soft kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His warm breath fanning your sensitive skin as he gently nibbled, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. Swiftly a moment that was meant to be sentimental, suddenly began to steam up. 

"Do you want me to try it on for you, baby?" you suggested, your voice a little hoarse with desire. Trent hummed in response, his lips still brushing against your skin as his fingers idley returned to play with the hem of your shirt. With a swift motion, he lifted the shirt you were already wearing over your head entirely exposing your bare torso, no bra. Your breath caught at the sudden rush of cool air on your heated skin. Trent's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your full tits, your nipples already hardening in anticipation.

"You look so fucking gorgeous all the fucking time, baby" he growled, his voice thick with want. His hands glided over your shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then slid down to cup your tits. He thumbed your nipples, rolling and pinching gently, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

"I need you, T… now," you murmured before his lips found yours in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry, demanding, and filled with passion. Different than before. Trent's tongue danced with yours, exploring and claiming, while his hands roamed freely over your body, mapping every curve and valley. He kneaded your boobs, squeezing and lifting them, making you moan into his mouth. You clung to him, running your fingers over his curls, pulling him closer as if you could merge your bodies into one. His erection pressing against your lower belly, a hard ridge that promised pleasure and satisfaction you’d come to know well but couldn’t get enough of. His hands moved to slide around you down to your ass, over it and then under. Breaking the kiss, Trent lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you upstairs, making sure to grab both of your tops in his hand, sparing any damning evidence. His strong arms never faltering as you giggled breathlessly nibbling on his ear lobe whispering the naughtiest things in his ear despite feeling like an innocent princess in his hold. And then like a shot gun signaling a start, your bedroom door clicked shut behind you. 

Trent laid you down on your soft sheets, his eyes never leaving yours. In a blur of passion, you found yourself on your bed, both of your clothes completely vanished now, your legs wrapped around Trent's strong waist again. He hovered above you, his body a delicious weight pressing you into the mattress. You could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against you. His eyes, dark and intense, holding yours captive, and you knew in that moment it truly felt like you were his. The dominant glint in his eyes sent a thrill through your body, making you ache to surrender completely.

“Tell me what you want.” He cooed almost tauntingly.  Trent's voice was a low rumble, filled with desire and possession as he whispered above you leaning in to begin leaving kisses from behind your ear down your jaw. You didn’t answer you just nodded eagerly, giving him permission, your eyes pleading for him to take control. And he did. He pressed his lips to yours as his fingers trailed down your body, tracing your curves, before slipping between your thighs and  through your pussy’s wet folds.  “Such a messy girl. You're so always so fucking wet for me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. You were already soaked, your arousal glistening on your sensitive folds. Trent's touch was like a lightning bolt, igniting a fire within you. “Tell me what you want.” He demanded again and it started a fire in you, igniting something carnal. You whined and when he teased his fingers around your clit. 

"You, T, fuck… I want you," you whimpered as he stroked your clit, his touch feather-light but intensely pleasurable. His fingers dipped lower, finding your entrance and pushing inside, filling you with a delicious stretch. You gasped as you felt him slip two fingers all the way inside of you with a curl. He smirked watching your face scrunch up from the intrusion. You arched off your bed, seeking more, your hips moving in rhythm with his fingers. "Please, baby" you begged, your voice breathy and desperate. "I need you inside me. I want your cock, T." He grinned down at you, his eyes alight with possessiveness.  “I want you to be rough, T.” You whined desperate for him to just use you. 

"You want me to be rough with you? You like that don't you, baby?" He mocked in the hottest way. You reached out towards him, dragging your hand down his abs before wrapping your hand around his hard shaft. You pumped his cock with your spit mixed with his leaking precum,l. He pulled his fingers out of you swiftly. His one hand laced his fingers with yours pinning your hands above your head, the other tapping his cock against your clit, dragging it through your fold’s teasingly.  Neither of you had the patience for more foreplay. You needed him inside of you now and he was giving you just that.  His big brown eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. “You’re gonna be a good girl f’me, hmm?” His words send a thrill through you, a heady combination of desire and submission. You nod eagerly, your eyes locked on his.

"Yeah" you whispered. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hands moving to grip your hip firmly. You felt the broad head of his cock nudging at your entrance before he thrusted forward, filling you in one smooth stroke."Oh, God!" you cried out, your body welcoming him with a delicious tightness. Your hands broke out of his and grabbed to hold him. Your nails digging into his back muscles as he slid inside of you. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp. He rocked into you. Trent’s cock stretched you deliciously hitting the spot only he knew immediately. 

“Doing so good f’me, baby. Take my cock so well. You okay?” He asked gently as he flicked his eyes to yours. You nodded with a shy smile as he pulled back out just barely, leaving just the tip in. With a growl, he thrusted into you again, filling you so completely that you gasped once over. His cock, hard and throbbing, stretching you to the limit, and you loved every second of it. The sensation of being so full, so possessed, sent sparks of pleasure through your body. He set a relentless pace, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with deep, powerful strokes. Your bodies creating a sensual rhythm, the squelching sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the room. Trent's jaw clenched, his eyes hooded as he watched his cock disappear into your slick heat.

"You feel so fucking good," you moaned, your breath coming in short gasps. "Feel so deep. Oh my god." You whined. You inhaled a sharp breath feeling a lightheadedness come over as you took him.  He kept his beautiful brown eyes fixed on you. The pupils in his dark eyes dilated as he felt his cock pulse inside you. Every movement was slow, deep, and intentional. His lips curled into a smug smile hearing you whine. You were completely his and he reveled in it. You dragged your ankle down his back muscles. He was so gentle yet harsh at the same time. Trent’s hand slid up your body and wrapped around your neck gently but assertively causing the knot in your core to tighten as you moaned more.   

"Whose pussy is this?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with need. 

"Yours, Trent," you whispered, your voice breathless. "Only yours." He quickened his pace, his hips snapping forward with each thrust, driving into you relentlessly. Your tits, full and heavy, bounced with each movement, the sensitive peaks grazing his chest, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. He let go of your neck and leaned back a little. Trent's hands moving to grip your thighs, holding your legs wide open, exposing you completely to his gaze and touch. 

"God, fuck. You're so fucking wet, baby," he growled, his eyes fixed on the junction where his cock disappeared into your body. "So good f’me." He praised you as you moaned, the explicit words and the sight of him pounding into your body pushing you closer to the edge. Your hands moved off him to clutch at the sheets, your knuckles turning white as you tried to anchor yourself against the force of his thrusts. The room continued to be filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your desperate moans, and Trent's dirty words. Trent could feel your pussy clenching tighter, he knew you were close. 

"Tell me, baby, whose cock are you gonna cum on right now?" Trent's voice was rough but smug, his face a mask of pure desire and self satisfaction.

"Yours, T," you panted, your voice thick with pleasure. “I want to cum on your cock." Your eyes rolling back as you felt the climax building. "I'll only ever cum on your cock, T." Your words seemed to unleash something primal within him. His eyes lit with possession. His hips pistoned faster, his cock pounding into your sensitive flesh. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, his cock feeling harder inside of you, and the knowledge that he was close to his own release sent you spiraling towards your climax. The words you’d just said had tumbled out. And to be honest, you kind of hoped your commitment was true. You only ever wanted his dick… it was that good. You wrapped your legs stayed around his waist, drawing him even deeper, your hands moving to clutch at his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks on his tanned skin. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading, possessing. His hips never stoping their relentless motion, driving you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

"That's right, you're my good girl. Only cum f’me. Only gonna ever wear my jersey too, yeah?" he grunted the question, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded as the coil in your stomach tightened. Orgasmic bliss barrelling towards you."Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you love my cock." His words were like a match to the kindling of your desire. His words pushed you over the precipice. Your body tensed every nerve ending singing as you soared into your climax. Trent's fingers dug into your hips, holding you firmly in place as he fucked you into your climax, his own release building. And then in a split second just when the outside world couldn’t have seemed further away you heard the tracks of the garage door begin to open.

 "T!" you cried out, your voice high and desperate. The distant rumble of Jack returning home made your heart stop but you couldn’t stop your body’s orgasmic convulsions though. Your climax exploded through your body, rippling waves of pleasure that caused your back to arch and your pussy to clamp down on Trent’s cock. You cried out, your voice a mix of pleasure and surprise and panic, as your release washed over you, the waves of pleasure so intense they left you trembling. Trent's name was a mantra on your lips you were trying to bite back as you rode the waves of ecstasy but it was all mixed with genuine fear. “T… T.. fuck!” You yelped,  your hands moving to press against his chest to push him off. He didn’t hear the garage, he was locked in. You knew he was about to cum. “Trent!” You yelped just as his body tensed above you. His eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a guttural grunt, his hips making one final, powerful thrust as he filled you with his release. “Jack! Trent!” You told him. Trent had never had a more conflicting climax in his life. Panic, euphoria, and disgust hearing his mates name while he finished all at once. Trent's eyes widened, and he froze, his cock still buried deep within you. His release leaking inside you. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a frantic rhythm that matched your own. The sensation of his hot cum inside you sent you over the edge again, a second orgasm washing over you, leaving you boneless and sated, Trent fighting back a groan as you tightened around him once more. Panting, your bodies glistening with sweat, you clung to each other, hearts racing but you needed to move. Now. The sudden realization that you were both naked and exposed snapped you back to the present. Anxiety flared in your chest as you scrambled to get Trent off you and find your clothes, your heart pounding. This was it. Jack was going to find out. 

"Shit," Trent cursed, quickly reaching for his boxers. "Your brother... we need to get downstairs." He instructed you. The urgency in his voice mirrored your own racing thoughts. You frantically searched for your clothes, scattered across the room. In a mad dash, you pulled on your panties and scrambled to find everything, while Trent hastily pulled on his trousers. The heat of the moment had turned into a frantic race against time. The sound of Jack’s arrival sent you both into a scramble, grabbing at clothes, fumbling with buttons, zipper, shirts pulled over heads, doing whatever you could to look convincingly casual. 

“Fuck, fuck!” you yelled in a whisper,  heart pounding as you clutched the sides of your shirt, tugging it over your head, trying to compose yourself. You shot Trent a panicked look.  Tears forming on your lash line. 

“Baby… Baby… we’ll be okay. You’re okay. C’mon.” He kissed your forehead before helping adjust your top. The slam of the door into the house had sent you and Trent into an even more panicked frenzy as you scrambled to not look like you just fucked. 

“My car,” Trent hissed almost to himself, eyes wide, realizing that leaving his car in the driveway was like leaving a neon sign that he was there.

“He’s going to see it…” You glanced at him, panicked. There was no hiding now. With your pulse racing, you tried to look as normal as possible, grabbing the closest thing you could find to play off a casual visit—a charger tangled near your bed. The two of you locked eyes, a silent agreement that this was your cover story.  You nodded back before you ran down the stairs just as Jack came through the other side of the house. Thank god the staircase up to your room was at the opposite end. You could hear Jack’s footsteps making his way towards you two as you made it downstairs. When he saw you and Trent his eyebrows raised, but he was relaxed enough. 

“Aye, mate, what’s up?” he asked, looking from Trent to you and back again. Jack looked at Trent with a faintly furrowed brow. Trent plastered on a relaxed smile, putting on his most casual tone.

“Yeah, good bro. Sorry, ah…left my phone charger here last time,” he replied smoothly, nodding toward the one you were now holding out like a lifeline. You forced a smile, trying to seem casual. Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a second, his expression skeptical. 

“So…” Jack’s tone held a playful curiosity. “You knew I wasn’t home?” Trent shrugged. 

“Yeah, bro, only a charger so I didn’t want to nag you about it,” he said, as you casually waving the charger like it was some grand prize he’d finally retrieve. “Y/N was just letting me grab it real quick.” You handed Trent the charger, feeling Jack’s gaze on both of you. Trent took it with a casual ‘Thanks,’ stuffing it into his pocket as if it had been his all along. You were mildly annoyed you were losing a charger but that was the least of your worries “Just thought I’d pop in, grab it, and head out.” Jack stared for a moment longer, lips curving into a smirk as he finally dropped his gaze. 

“Right… sound.” he chuckled.  Trent laughed, playing along, and you couldn’t help but join in, trying to mask your own nerves. Jack looked between you both, there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite read but it was more confusion at the energy in the room than a hint of suspicion. But he just laughed, shrugging it off as Trent left. Trent still managed to give you a tiny, playful wink before slipping out, leaving your mind reeling.

“He’s so weird.” Jack teased you, still watching Trent get in his car. “Man makes millions and he’s pressed about a charger.” You let out a small, nervous laugh, hoping to play it cool. You felt Jack’s arm wrap around your shoulder in a lighthearted squeeze, and he shot you a teasing grin.

“Nah, he’s just… Trent… mindful, maybe?” you managed, trying to fill the silence and maybe convince both Jack and yourself. Jack smirked, shaking his head. Your heart was still racing but at least Trent had remained calm. 

“Yeah, well, you were probably just gassed you got his attention alone for five minutes.” He laughed, punching at your arm as he passed you. You forced yourself to chuckle, hoping the nervous energy vibrating through you wasn’t as obvious as it felt. Jack’s teasing had hit closer to home than he knew, and as you watched Trent’s car pull away from the driveway, you felt a mix of thrill and relief. The cover story might’ve worked, but the spark between you two? That was only getting harder to hide.

“Oh, please,” you replied, rolling your eyes, trying to sound nonchalant as you looked down, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You laughed, a little too loudly, hoping it came off as amused and not as a frantic release of tension.  Jack gave a little shrug, seemingly satisfied. 

“Just saying, you love Trenty.” He laughed teasingly but you didn’t. Not this time. “Y/N… I’m kidding. I know he’s your mate too. Relax. He came for a charger, innit. I’m joking. Sorry.” He looked at you apologetically, mildly confused why a tease about you have a crush on Trent hit so differently than before. He always poked fun but your vibe felt weird. He opted to just  let it roll off his back, moving on and turned, remaining oblivious as he headed to the kitchen. Meanwhile you were left with a stomach full of butterflies, lined with guilt  and a heart still pounding from the close call. Watching Trent drive away, you felt an undeniable thrill mixed with something deeper, something that had you feeling torn between excitement and culpability. The cover story had worked for now, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping this secret would only get harder with time.

Sneaking around with Trent had quickly transformed into something more, something you felt deep in your bones. The thrill was undeniable, yet the way you kept finding yourself drawn back to him made it feel like it wasn't just about the thrill anymore. After Jack almost catching you, it just felt like you both actually thought what you were doing might’ve been worth it. Tonight felt like a step closer to something real, though the secrecy only intensified it. You'd told Jack you'd be staying over at Layla's, a lie that sat heavy, but the promise of a night with Trent made it worth it. When you arrived at his place, Trent's smile greeted you at the door, warm and familiar, and immediately, you felt all that tension melt away. He led you out to the back garden, where he had set up a cozy space just for the two of you. Blankets were draped over the outdoor couch on the patio, and the fire pit cast a gentle, golden glow. Jazz murmured softly from a speaker, blending perfectly with the low hum of the night, creating a sense of comfort that felt more intimate than you'd expected. The whole setup seemed to say: I wanted this to feel special. You nestled into the couch beside him, sharing the same blanket as the fire flickered, warming your faces. Trent leaned back, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, the other hand resting on your knee, and you felt yourself relaxing against him as if this was exactly where you belonged.

Although, it wasn't long though before he suggested a game of cards, his competitive spirit sparking in his eyes. You moved to sit cross-legged on the couch, turning to face him as you dealt the cards. Trent sat back, legs spread, confidence written across his face. But as the game went on and the tide turned in your favor, his expression shifted. He huffed when you won a hand, mumbling something about beginner's luck, but you could tell he was getting flustered. When you won again, his pout turned into a grin full of mischief.

"Nah, not having this. C'mon, there's no way you're this lucky," he teased, snatching the cards from your hand before pulling you into his lap, his hands snaking around your waist.

"Maybe I'm just better at it than you," you quipped, knowing it would get under his skin. He narrowed his eyes, pretending to look insulted but deep down you knew he hated hearing it, joke or not.

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" he murmured before leaning in, his teeth grazing your neck in a playful nibble, a cross between a kiss and bite as his hands gripped you tighter. You squirmed, laughing, trying to wriggle free, but he was stronger than you and wouldn't let you go.

"Just admit I won," you teased, breathless from laughing, glancing up at him with a triumphant smile.

"Not a chance," he whispered, voice low as his face hovered inches from yours, his eyes full of that look that made your pulse race. "The game's postponed. We'll settle it later." He said deciding he just wanted to be with you for the moment, no games. He let his hold on you loosen, and you rolled your eyes with a grin. 

"Whatever you want, baby." You murmured, your voice warm and teasing. He stilled, his gaze softening as he took you in, as if hearing you calling him ‘baby’ for the first time. Colloquially. The look in his eyes made your stomach flip, a moment of quiet that felt far more intimate than any kiss or touch. With a hum of satisfaction, he pulled you in closer, one hand tracing down your back.

"I like the sound of that." His fingers gently pressed into your skin, grounding you in that moment, and his other hand reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You stayed wrapped up together, letting the night carry you in the warmth of each other's presence. Hours passed without notice, the jazz lulling softly in the background as you nestled closer, feeling his hand rest securely around you. His touch was soft, comforting, as if to say he wasn't in any rush to let go. The stars were bright overhead, and the crackling flames cast shadows over his face. Trent looked at you with a rare openness, a softness that made your chest ache in the best way. He pressed a kiss to your hair, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on you. You rested your head against his shoulder, your legs curled over his lap, feeling the strength of his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. Every so often, he'd lean down, brushing his lips against your temple or whispering something sweet that made your heart stutter. It felt like you were existing in your own little world, a pocket of warmth and comfort that was just for the two of you. The night stretched on, but neither of you felt any rush to move or break the spell. This wasn't just a thrill, or a secret-you could feel the weight of something genuine growing between you, something you were both beginning to understand couldn't be hidden forever.

Settling into Trent’s bed that night felt surreal—soft sheets, plush pillows, and the faint scent of him in the air made it feel luxurious, almost like a dream. Yet, there was that small tug of something missing, a sense of feeling a bit out of place amidst the perfection. You liked your routine, your things, that’s all. This was well,  it was his bed, his room, his world. You didn’t quite realize how it showed until Trent, lying beside you with a gentle smile, noticed it.

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable. What’s up?” he asked, his gaze soft but curious. You shook your head with a half-hearted laugh, trying to dismiss it. 

“I’m not uncomfortable… I just…” you trailed off, unable to find the words. But he shook his head, unconvinced. 

“Nah, baby, c’mon,” he coaxed, “alright. Tell me what you usually do before bed.” He rolled over and looked at you with a smile. At that, you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Okay, so,” you started, tucking your hair behind your ear as you settled into explaining shuffling in the sheets.. “First thing’s first: I have to take off all my makeup. But that means using an oil cleanser first because it breaks everything down— mascara, everything. Then I use a second cleanser to really clean my skin. It’s called double cleansing.” You giggled as Trent nodded with a raised eyebrow, trying not to smile. 

“Double cleansing?” he echoed. “More than once seems like….” You widened your eyes silently asking to finish and continued on. 

“Trust me, it makes a difference because some of us don’t just wake up moisturize and go.” You teased and he rolled his eyes swiping his thumb over his cheekbone as if to show off his perfect skin. “But then I have to pat my face dry with specific towels or like disposable ones, you know? Like I can’t just be rubbing whatever to dry.” He leaned back, clearly amused but listening intently. You were pretty sure he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. 

“Okay, what’s next?” he asked, a playful grin on his face.

“Then it’s skincare time,” you declared. “I use a toner first.” Trent nodded but you knew he probably didn’t know what that meant. “After that, I have a few serums. Then… ” You cooed but Trent interjected. 

“A few!?” Trent’s eyes widened slightly. It was becoming evidently more and more clear he did not have a sister. A part of you laughed that you never realized how deep that fact ran and then a part of you felt a bit relieved this was the first time he seemed to be hearing this. The idea that any girl that had come before you had yet to explain this to him. 

“Yeah then we move to like eye creams, moisturizers next,” you explained and continued to rattle on with more. He looked impressed and bewildered at the same time. 

“That’s… a lot,” he said, but there was a note of affection in his voice that made you smile.

“And we’re not even done!” you pointed out. “After the skincare, I do my hair care. Apply some products for hydration. Oh and silk pillowcases are a must for both skin and hair. They’re gentler and prevent breakage.” Trent’s eyes sparkled with humor, but he nodded as if taking mental notes. 

“Alright, so we’ve got skin and hair. Anything else?” He smirked almost assuming you were done. 

“Obviously,” you said, feigning indignation. “Then I have to set up my room. I spray a lavender sleep mist onto my bed to help me relax, and I take my nighttime supplements—magnesium, a sleep aid if I need it, maybe some collagen.” You explained.

“Supplements too?” he repeated, clearly finding all of this fascinating. He had routines but it was more for optimizing performance and in a way you were doing just the same.

“Yep. And then I need like wattterrrs,” you explained dragging out the word, feeling more animated as you talked. “And sometimes, if I’m feeling really stressed, I’ll do a short guided meditation before bed. Just five to ten minutes to clear my mind.” Trent was leaning forward now, his chin resting in his hands grinning ear to ear. Trent started laughing, eyes wide with disbelief. 

“That’s like 15 steps, baby!” he exclaimed, shaking his head as if you’d told him the most extravagant bedtime routine on earth and maybe you had in his mind. You laughed along, shrugging. 

“Hey, you asked! Besides, don’t pretend you’re not just as high maintenance with all your Byredo lotions over there.” You smirked, nodding toward the sleek row of bottles lined on the counter in the ensuite. He rolled his eyes, giving a mock scoff. 

“Alright, alright… but that’s… that’s quite the process,” he said, his voice laced with teasing affection. “You really do all that every night?” You crossed your arms, pretending to be offended. 

“I mean I try to every single night! It’s called self-care, T. There’s more out there than just what the club tells you to do. You should try my routine sometime.”  You giggled teasing him. You knew he took really good care of himself but when it came to beauty he was more relaxed. He laughed, the sound filling the room.

“I don’t think I could handle all of that.” He smirked.  You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest at the compliment. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Even if he didn’t fully understand each step, he was there, listening and appreciating the lengths you went to for your own well-being. And that made you feel seen in a way that was hard to explain. Still smiling, he grabbed his phone, opening his notes app. “Okay, baby… give me the names and brands. Everything you need for sleeping here.” Your heart fluttered at the gesture, so thoughtful and unexpected. You began listing each product, and he typed them with an almost serious focus, nodding as if he were taking notes on a game plan; Slip pillow cases, Tata Harper cleansers, Maison Francis mists, a 14th Night Hair Elixir. 

“You don’t actually have to do all this,” you murmured, feeling almost shy. But his hand found yours, and he squeezed it gently.

“I want you to feel comfortable here,” he said softly, looking at you with that easy, open sincerity. “Besides, if it’s gonna make you sleep better, then it’s worth it. Keeps you in my bed.” He cheekily cooed. The thoughtfulness left you feeling a mix of warmth and gratitude, a sense of belonging that surprised you. And as much as you adored the idea of your favorite products sitting in his bathroom, what you loved even more was this—him, making space for you in his world, in his home. It also felt nice to know it’d be like a warning should any other girl be over. This was your marking your territory.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shifting closer to him, a smile playing on your lips. “Honestly, though… all I really need to feel at home is you.” He smiled, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you. 

“You’ve always felt like home to me.” He whispered back to you. Both of your admissions honest. The room was calm, the dim light casting soft shadows, and Trent’s fingers lazily traced patterns along your arm as you both settled into the cozy rhythm of conversation. The hum of street lights outside mixed with the soft rustling of sheets, making the entire moment feel even more intimate. Even after Trent finished noting down your list, he looked over with a smirk, still visibly amused by the whole process.  “So, am I missing anything? Or do we need to add a couple more things for this routine?”

“Oh, don’t even start,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge. “You wouldn’t understand—it’s just habitual; it’s so I can look pretty.” You batted your eyes at him. He laughed, tipping his head back, the sound warm and rich. 

“Well… you always look beautiful. Don’t think you need all this but, consider me converted if it makes you happy,” he said, miming a solemn vow. “But seriously, I’ll get it, alright? It’s not just about making you feel at home—it’s about you being at home here, whenever you want.” The sincerity in his words made your cheeks warm. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would feel like for this to be your regular night: no need to pack an overnight bag, no sneaking in and out, just… this, every night. You snuggled deeper into his embrace, the weight of his arm draped protectively around you making everything feel somehow complete. He noticed the pensive look on your face and tilted his head, studying you. “What’re you thinking about?”

“It’s just… weird, you know? I didn’t expect it to feel this comfortable here.” You hesitated, then smiled softly. “I thought it would feel… wrong.” He ran his hand gently up and down your back, pulling you even closer. It was wrong. It was wrong what you were doing to Jack, but this? This felt very right. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But I also knew it’d be good. You and I have always been good. I want it to feel easy. Want you to feel like you don’t have to hide anything when we’re here or feel out of place here.” His voice was low, soothing, and he spoke as if he were letting you in on some quiet, long-held secret. He reached over, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering as he looked into your eyes with that calm, unwavering gaze of his. “I know we’re figuring things out, and it might be complicated but it doesn’t have to be here. We’re good here,” he said softly, his hand resting gently on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, heart beating a little faster. 

“You really mean that?” you whispered, almost afraid of his answer.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice steady. “I think we’re pretty damn good together.” He smirked. For a moment, the silence between you was filled with unspoken words, a warmth passing between you that felt equal parts thrilling and comforting. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and smiled, nestling closer to him.

“Okay,” you murmured, settling fully into the pillow beside him, letting his steady breathing and the soft glow of his gaze ground you. The weight of his arm around you felt like an anchor, keeping you steady even as your mind whirled with thoughts of what this meant, of what you meant to him. He pulled you even closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“So… really, pretty girl, any final steps in this ritual of yours? Any last ones?” he teased, breaking the quiet moment with a playful glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, laughing. 

“Alright, alright, since you’re so curious… And I’m generous, I guess I could share the one I never even leave home without.” You reached over, awkwardly leaning to grab your lip balm you’d already moved to the nightstand earlier to have on hand. It was a lip balm you brought with you everywhere, so tonight was no different. It was a rich Hermes lip balm. Nothing made your lips feel more well-hydrated, supple or better than this. You applied a layer to your own lips before leaning in, catching him with a soft kiss that tasted faintly of beeswax.

“There, now you’re officially a part of my routine,” you said, grinning. He shook his head, still chuckling, his fingers tracing along your jaw as he pulled you in for another kiss. 

“If this is how the routine ends, I’m in.” And in that moment, with the warmth of his arms around you, the soft glow of the lights outside, and the quiet thrill of realizing just how natural this all felt, you let yourself settle fully into the moment. Trent leaned over you and grabbed the sleek tube again. “You think the lads would take the mick if I rolled around using Hermes lip balm? Because this actually feels so good.” He asked you earnestly. You smirked knowing the answer would likely be yes but you just hummed. 

“Does it? Or was it my kiss?” You teased. “Nah, you could use it though. If you’d want you can take this one. I’ll get another one.” You cooed, pressing your lips to his again. Trent nodded agreeing. And he did. You let him take it the next day. But that night you fell to sleep happy, lips moisturized, and all the worries and doubts fading into the background, leaving just you and him, here together, finding home in each other.

As you bounded down the stairs, practically buzzing with excitement, you were already mentally at Trent’s, imagining the quiet moments you’d get to have again, just the two of you for another night. You’d been doing this a lot. Hiding it all from everyone but reveling in the time tucked together. Your heart raced as you went through the plan in your head—another night wrapped up in his arms, laughing, teasing, letting everything else fall away. But Jack’s voice cut through your daydreams, grounding you in an instant.

“Hey, you headed out? Who’s the lucky lad now?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes studying you closely. Your heart skipped, a blend of panic and guilt washing over you. You were sure he’d started to suspect something, especially with all the time you’d been spending away. Swallowing hard, you tried for a casual response. You didn’t think he’d even be considering Trent, but it was clear you were spending a lot of time ‘out’ with someone. No matter, lying to Jack… Jack, your big brother, your best friend; though you’d never tell Layla that, it all felt so wrong. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to jinx it, you know? Not yet,” you said with a soft smile, hoping he’d leave it at that. But Jack wasn’t one to let things slide easily. He just hummed, giving you a long, knowing look. Then, with a gentleness that caught you off guard, he spoke again. 

“Hey…” he started, and you could hear the tenderness in his voice. “I’ve never seen you like this before.” He sympathetically smiled. 

“What do you mean?” You looked up at him, surprised

“I mean, there’s a light in you that I haven’t seen in a while. It’s good to see it again.” His eyes softened, a mix of pride and love filling his gaze. “I don’t know what this lad’s doing, but whatever it is, it’s bringing out the best in you. Look happier. Healthier.” A rush of emotion swelled in your chest, catching you off guard. The tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them, and you looked away, trying to compose yourself. Jack noticed, stepping forward and wrapping you in one of those big, protective hugs he was so good at. You felt the familiar strength of his arms around you, his hand gently rubbing your back as he held you close. “I just want you happy,” he murmured into your hair, and the raw honesty in his voice almost broke you. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I told Mum and Dad I’d look out for you, you know?” His voice was low, laced with the memories and promises you both had carried for years. You felt horrible. You were lying. Why were you lying? “I know I can be a pain sometimes, but… I don’t want you being with anyone that treats you like…” Jack tried to say it but he couldn’t. Jack was protective, loving but as communicative and close as you two were he just couldn’t stomach the idea of men treating you poorly so he couldn’t get the words out. “You deserve to be loved, to feel safe, that’s all.” Jack was the only place you felt safe since your mum passed. Your dad closed off and Jack stepped up. You shut your eyes, feeling the warmth of his embrace seep into you. There were times when a hug from Jack felt like it held everything you missed, everything you longed for—comfort, security, family. It was a rare, grounding feeling, and one that made you ache with a strange blend of gratitude and sadness. Pulling back just enough to look at you, Jack brushed his hand over your cheek, a soft smile on his lips. “Maybe we go to Sefton Park sometime soon?” he suggested. “Just us, like old times. Feels like we’re missing each other lately. Never see you.” He smiled softly and it made your heart ache. The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you managed a nod, blinking back the tears that had filled your eyes. You felt his arm tighten around you for a second, and he chuckled softly. “And… maybe one day you can introduce me to this fella. He seems alright, if he’s making you this happy.” His words hit harder than you expected, the guilt flaring up in your chest as you forced a smile. 

“Yeah… maybe.” You sheepishly told him feeling nauseous at the idea that Jack knew this ‘fella’ better than he probably ever wanted to.  Jack gave you a gentle squeeze, reaching to teasingly pull on the ends of your hair like he used to when you were kids. 

“Alright, go on then. Don’t keep him waiting. Don’t fuck it up now.” He winked, letting you go, but the warmth in his eyes stayed with you. As you walked to the door, your heart hurt, the weight of your secret feeling heavier with each step. The excitement of seeing Trent was still there, humming in the back of your mind, but Jack’s words lingered. You felt torn, a part of you wanting to spill everything to your brother, to let him see the whole truth. But as you got outside, you forced yourself to push it all away. For now, you just wanted to hold onto the happiness Jack had seen in you. You wanted to be with Trent, to laugh, to feel that lightness and warmth without the shadow of guilt hanging over you. And even if it was only for a night, you let yourself believe that was enough.

When morning rolled in, you were tucked into the sheets, the soft weight of the comforter keeping you warm as you dozed off, half-conscious of Trent beside you. The light filtered in through the blinds, illuminating the room in a golden haze, and you felt a deep contentment, drifting in that hazy, relaxed state between sleep and wakefulness. But then you felt the bed shift as Trent sat up more. You looked around Trent’s room, feeling oddly out of place though, despite how many times you had now woken up tangled in his sheets, wrapped up in the ease and warmth he offered. Today, though, it felt different. Your lies seeping in the warmth.  The room, with its familiar scent of him, his things strewn about casually, almost felt like a stage where you were playing a part you couldn’t reveal. It was strange, bittersweet, this cozy little world of yours that felt so real here but that would eventually dissolve the moment you stepped back into your life with Jack.

“Hi, baby,” you murmured, blinking up at him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face trying to be present and not get lost in your thoughts. You scooted closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nestling into him. He gave a soft chuckle, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” He leaned down, kissing the top of your head. “Hey, I need you to stay in bed for me for a bit, yeah?” he said, his tone gentle but somehow cautious. You raised an eyebrow, pulling back to look at him more closely, half-expecting it to be some cheeky invitation. 

“Stay in bed?” you teased, smiling as you placed a playful kiss on his chest. But then he spoke again, and you caught the slight edge in his voice.

“Yeah, erm… Jack’s popping over,” he said, watching you carefully. It was like a cold wave washed over you, jolting you fully awake. You immediately pushed yourself up, heart racing. 

“Wait—what?” You scrambled, trying to pull yourself together, suddenly very aware that you were in Trent’s bed, in his house, wearing only his shirt. Trent had forgotten Jack was swinging by today until he got the text moments ago reminding him. He had promised he’d donate a pair of signed boots or something for Jack’s company to auction off for charity and today… he was coming to pick them up. 

“I forgot. Honest. It’ll be alright though.” He tried to tell you. This could not keep happening. You couldn’t tell which situation was worse. Jack finding out the other day - Trent was fucking you at your house, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to be there… Or Jack finding out now - You weren’t having sex as he came over but there was zero reason for you to be at Trent’s this early. There would be no excuse. You couldn’t keep lying to Jack this was eating you up. One mildly redeeming thought popped into your head – thankfully, your car was in Trent’s garage out of sight. It was tucked away though because Trent told you, you needed to take better care of it and can’t just leave it out all the time but still your anxiety was spiking.  

“T, then I have to leave!” you hissed, frantically looking around for how you could possibly grab all your things in time. You could already feel the guilt bubbling up inside, imagining Jack’s reaction if he walked in and found you here. But Trent just reached out, gently tugging you back, his arms wrapping around you, grounding you.

“Hey, hey. Relax, yeah? Just stay here. He’s not coming up into my bed,” he murmured, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be five minutes. He’s just coming by to pick something up. Quick, in and out. We’ll be okay.”  You looked up at him, worried, still tense. 

“Trent…” you began, but he only gave you a soft, reassuring smile, his eyes full of that easy confidence he always seemed to carry.

“Please. Just stay here. It’ll be okay,” he murmured, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that you could never say no to. You sighed, settling back into his embrace, heart still hammering as you heard Jack’s car pull up outside. To be fair, it made more sense for you to hide but it felt even more shameful to do. Part of you wanted to pull the covers over your head, to hide and pretend this wasn’t happening. Instead, you sat tensely in bed, listening as Trent slipped downstairs, his voice echoing faintly as he greeted Jack. You could hear their friendly banter, and it twisted your stomach with guilt. You knew it was wrong to keep this from Jack, but the thought of losing these moments with Trent was just as hard. 

You sat there, still, hands nervously fidgeting as you heard their voices drifting up from downstairs. Jack’s laughter mixed with Trent’s lighter chuckle, and it churned something inside you—a pang of guilt mixed with a longing for this to be simpler, to be something you could share without worry. But for now, the thrill of sneaking around was overshadowed by the weight of keeping this secret from Jack, from the one person who’d seen you through everything, helped you through everything. But still, hearing Jack’s voice below reminded you of the stakes, of how much you valued him, his trust, and how deeply you felt the need to protect this secret with Trent—even if it meant bending the truth. You picked at the hem of Trent’s shirt, which felt soft and familiar against your skin. There was something comforting in wearing a part of him, yet it also made everything feel painfully real. This wasn’t just some fling. You knew it every time you looked into Trent’s eyes, every time he pulled you into his arms like he didn’t want to let go. And then you heard the front door close,  there was silence for a little while until footsteps came up the stairs breaking it. You held your breath, half-wishing you could vanish into the walls. When Trent finally walked back in, you met his gaze, searching his face for some reassurance that you weren’t just imagining this, that he understood the complicated feelings swirling inside you. When Trent came back into the room, you’d moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his shirt still draped over you, your hands fidgeting nervously, his face softening as he noticed the tension in your posture. He gave you a soft smile, walking over and tilting your chin up so you’d meet his eyes.

“Hey. All good, yeah?” he murmured, his voice gentle. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, and you let yourself breathe again, slowly, finding comfort in his touch. You nodded, exhaling as you managed a small smile, letting yourself relax into him. 

“I just… I hate lying to him, Trent. It feels so messed up.” You let out a shaky breath, relief mingling with guilt. Trent knelt down in front of you, his hands finding yours. 

“I know, and I get it,” he said softly, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your skin. “But it’s just us right now. And whatever this is,” he squeezed your hands, “I want it to be ours before it’s anyone else’s. Jack will understand that.” His words settled over you like a warm blanket, grounding you in the certainty you felt with him. The guilt didn’t completely vanish, but his reassurance made it bearable, made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could navigate this without losing what mattered. “You okay?” he asked, his gaze unwavering, full of that soft patience he always seemed to have for you. He came and sat on the bed with you. Keeping a cautious distance not wanting to overwhelm you but a gentle open hand close ready to hold yours if you wanted it.  You sat across from Trent, fingers nervously fidgeting in your lap, your gaze low as you struggled to put words to the feeling that had been building up inside.

 “I just… I feel so guilty, lying to Jack all the time. T, it’s fucked,” you whispered repeating it once over, barely able to meet Trent’s eyes. Trent’s expression softened, and he took your hands in his, his touch grounding. 

“I know,” he murmured, squeezing your hands gently. “I feel it too. But it’s like… I can’t let this go. I can’t let you go. It’s… “ He paused momentarily, grappling with this almost as much as you. “It’s hard to feel like we can have both.” He cooed. You looked up at him, eyes searching his for something, maybe an answer, but all you found was a mirrored sense of conflict. 

“I want this,” you admitted, your voice a little choked. “I want you. But I don’t know how to make it work. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, terrified of falling in either direction.” You sniffled, trying to keep your emotions in check. He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze intense, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he lifted one of your hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to hide us either, but I also don’t want to put you in the middle.” The two of you sat there, wrapped in a silence that felt heavy, a quiet admission of the fears you shared but couldn’t quite voice. You could feel the ache in your chest intensify, a lump rising in your throat as the weight of it pressed on you. You blinked, feeling a tear slip free despite your attempts to keep it together. Trent’s gaze softened immediately. “Hey, baby” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush the tear from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. “Talk to me. I know this is a lot.” You tried to smile, to reassure him, but it faltered, and instead, more tears followed, spilling over as you let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling raw, exposed. “It’s just… Jack’s all I have. And I’m terrified that by being with you, by hiding this from him, I’m going to somehow lose both of you.” Your voice broke, and you quickly wiped at your cheeks, embarrassed by your own vulnerability. Trent’s expression shifted, a deep sympathy filling his eyes as he moved closer, pulling you into his arms. He wrapped you up tightly, holding you like he could somehow protect you from all the things that felt like they were slipping away.

“You could never lose me,” he whispered, his voice steady, almost as if he was willing it to be true, willing it to ease the fear in your heart. You leaned into him, feeling his arms around you, his steady presence a balm to the ache that had been building. But the silence that followed his words weighed heavily, filled with all the things neither of you could find a way to say. You let out a shaky breath, burying your face in his shoulder, feeling both comforted and conflicted in his embrace. After a moment, Trent pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re all I think about,” he said softly, a tenderness in his gaze that made your heart ache in a different way. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose, and I don’t want you to feel alone in this.” You nodded, but the weight of the situation lingered. A part of you wanted so badly to believe that his reassurance was enough, that you wouldn’t have to choose, that you could keep this connection with Trent without losing your relationship with Jack. But doubt gnawed at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were balancing on a thin line, one misstep away from losing it all. As if sensing your inner turmoil, Trent tilted your chin up, his gaze steady as he looked at you. “You’ll never lose me, no matter what happens” he repeated softly, his words a gentle promise. But something about the quiet that followed felt almost uncertain, as if he, too, knew how fragile everything was. Neither of you knew what would come next, and as he held you, the silence stretched, filled with both comfort and unspoken fears.In that moment, you held on tighter, hoping it would be enough to keep things from unraveling.

“Okay.” You nodded, managing a small smile as you squeezed his hands back. He smiled, his eyes brightening as he pulled you to your feet and into his arms. 

“Always, always, always” he murmured against your hair, between kisses, holding you close as you melted into him. You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in his arms, finding strength in his steady heartbeat, letting yourself believe that somehow, everything would work out. While your brain was spiraling, Trent’s heart hurt just the same. He felt like a scumbag for lying to Jack, for being with you. But he also felt like for the first time he was properly falling for you, getting to know you in a way he’d always longed for.  He couldn’t just throw it all away now, now that  he had a taste. He was putting up a good front though holding you, telling you it was fine. It was hard, but fine, but he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t saying that to himself even more. He wasn’t sure he could stomach a fall out with you or Jack. 

One afternoon after things stayed as they were, Trent casually reached into his pocket, pulling out the sleek little tube of lip balm, twisting it open with the practiced ease of someone who’d clearly used it more than a few times. He applied a quick swipe to his lips, completely unaware of the attention it was drawing. Noah noticed first, his brows raising in surprise before he nudged Jack, nodding subtly toward Trent. Jack caught sight of the lip balm and immediately burst into laughter. 

“Bro…” he said, still chuckling, “pretty sure my sister uses that shit.”

“Yeah? What about it?” Trent glanced over, unbothered. Noah shook his head, grinning. 

“Mate, good thing you’ve got that contract lined up. What’re you doing spending pounds on… what is that? Lipstick? ‘Cause it isn’t Nivia innit?” he teased, exaggerating. Trent rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“First off, it’s a balm. Second, it’s moisturizing, and it’s not shiny or anything, so you lot can calm down.” Noah and Jack exchanged a look, both stifling laughs. 

“Alright, alright, Pretty Boy,” Jack teased, holding up his hands in surrender. 

“Just saying, Y/N buying Hermes chapstick is one thing… You? That’s mad.” Noah laughed. Unphased, Trent shrugged, narrowing his gaze on him.

“You ever see Y/N’s lips looking dry?” He held up the balm, grinning. Noah shook his head.  

“Yeah, but I’m not exactly looking, am I?” Noah chuckled, clearly having fun with it. Trent just shrugged again, refusing to give them the satisfaction of riling him up. 

“Just saying,” he replied smoothly. “You can keep laughing, but I’m the one not walking around with dry lips. Yours could use a little help, mate,” he joked, nodding toward Noah, who chuckled. Jack shook his head, still laughing. 

“Alright, fair play,” Noah shot back, grinning. “But careful, next thing you’ll be raiding her entire collection.” Jack just laughed, shaking his head. 

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’re actually using the same shit as my sister.” Jack said. Trent smirked, tucking the balm back into his pocket with a satisfied look. 

“Gotta keep up, don’t I?” he replied, unbothered. “She knows what she’s doing.” Noah and Jack looked at each other knowingly queuing up a joke. Trent rolled his eyes, already sensing the teasing wouldn’t let up anytime soon. But he leaned back on the couch with a smirk thinking of you and your lips.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 7 - Girl of The Season xx

[downtwngrl]

INTRICATE.

hi so it’s been a WHILE. uhhhh rewatched challengers for the thousandth time and it broke me out of my writers block! i don’t know how im going to continue w this, so feel free to drop any ideas and ill add it to the lore 😈 note: series prob isn’t gonna end with any smut scene bc im incapable of writing one without it sounding stupid asf! but who knows, you might be surprised

cw: 1.4k words,,, art and reader are dating but fighting, set in stanford era, tashi is NOT injured, patashi, hints of reader crushing on tashi but repressing it, fighting, tensiontensionTENSION! basically everyone is friends with one another but they all want each other BAD. lmk what else i should add :)

“it’s complicated.” that’s what you say every time someone asks you what your relationship with art donaldson is. and it’s true— you guys are fiery, but not explosive. complex, but not convoluted. it’s just… strange. intricate. hence, complicated.

you think he’d probably say the same thing, but there’s no real way to know, since you can’t exactly ask. the two of you aren’t on speaking terms right now, and for the same reason you two stopped talking last time, and the time before that.

art donaldson can’t split his time between his girlfriend and his fucking best friend’s girlfriend. and you can recite the argument quite well, maybe even word for word; it’s still fresh in your mind, engraved there.

“c’mon, you can’t just keep ditching me for her. it’s annoying, and it hasn’t just happened once or twice, you know.”

“i know.” art sighed, a hand tangled in his hair as if to ground himself. your name fell from his lips, voice cracking midway. “what do you want me to do? she needed help with her physics homework.”

“she can get one of her fucking groupies to help her! she’s a big girl, she doesn’t need to rely on you.” the way you said it, mocking and condescending, was mean, and you know it. you don’t hate tashi— you can’t even bring yourself to dislike her. but it hurts every single time you text art on your motorola and get hit back with some half-assed variation of ‘helping tashi. sry :( i’ll come later.’ he never actually shows up at ‘later’, which only rubs salt in the wound.

art’s jaw ticked. his eyebrows furrowed and eyes darkened in a way you’d only seen once before, when someone was talking shit about tashi in the cafeteria. you had watched as she calmly reassured art that is was fine, that he needed to relax, but he only shook his head and clenched his fists. in that moment, you wondered if he ever got that angry if he overheard someone talking about you. you now doubt it.

“don’t talk about her like that.” he said it calmly, but your skin still prickled. “she’s an accomplished lady. what about you? what have you done?”

if you sounded condescending before, it was nothing compared to how he sounded then. you scoffed away the sinking feeling in your stomach, blinked back the sting in your eyes. there was a lot you could have said to him then: ‘i might not be half as good at tennis as she is, but that’s less embarrassing than being second-best to her boyfriend.’ or ‘i didn’t compete for her number and lose.’ hell, even a good ‘fuck you’ would have sufficed.

instead, you just stood there, frozen, as he grabbed his stanford sweatshirt and left.

when you tell the story to patrick, he laughs, and doesn’t stop laughing until you jab him with your elbow, effectively knocking the oxygen out of him. his hands raise in mock surrender before speaking. “sorry, it’s just funny to see him get like this, i guess.”

you frown. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i mean that he likes you, but he likes tashi. i know it, tashi knows it, and from what i heard on the walk here—” he gestures vaguely towards the door to your dorm, “—the school knows it, too. i dunno, i guess it’s amusing ‘cause art has never been so disturbed about this kind of shit. usually he just picks the girl he likes best, but he can’t.”

“you mean he can’t because you’re dating her.”

patrick smirks his signature smirk. you have the urge to punch his teeth out; vagueness is beginning to be a pet peeve of yours. “no, i’ve told him that tashi is free reign.”

the way your stomach flutters at that is shameful. you push the feeling away. “like, you guys aren’t..?”

patrick shrugs. “i mean, currently she hates me because i said i’d go to her match yesterday and i missed it.” these guys really need to stop promising us stuff, you think. “but yeah, when she isn’t pissed off, we’re dating, and we talk about it. ‘bout you guys. she doesn’t really care if the two of you make moves on either one of us.”

you don’t say anything, but your ears feel warm, and your heart is about to explode out of your chest. it doesn’t help when patrick takes that as a sign to keep talking and says—

“i don’t care either.” it suddenly hits you, the closeness between you and him. close enough that you can smell his cologne, one typical of a rich frat boy you’d pass by in the halls. but it feels different, with him. patrick’s smirk has shifted into a grin, a big one. you realize he’s been gauging your reaction, and is thoroughly pleased.

“oh,” you breathe. he snickers, repeats it back playfully. you don’t understand how he’s so relaxed, able to make light-hearted jabs in this moment. art likes you and tashi. tashi doesn’t care if he likes her, or if you like her. patrick doesn’t either. but where do you stand in this?

your phone jingles, the sound muffled from the blood roaring in your ears. you don’t know if you should thank or curse out whoever decided to call you at this second, but you excuse yourself to answer. patrick nods begrudgingly, backs up enough for you to have room to finally start to inhale and exhale again. “hello?”

“hey.” it’s art on the phone. impulsively, you look around, as if he’s hiding somewhere in the dorm he marched out of a few days ago.

holy fuck. “hey!” you sound too cheery to your own ears, and hope that over the line it sounds more convincing. you hear a sigh on the other end, and can imagine art physically loosen. “what, uh— i thought you were mad. at me.”

patrick perks up. ‘art?’ he mouths, and you nod. he attempts to come closer, but you swat at him, moving a few steps away. he pulls a face, but doesn’t move closer. still, he’s definitely trying to hear what art is saying.

“i was.” art laughs nervously, the sound tinny over the phone. “but you’re right. i fucked up. tashi… she isn’t my girl. i need to pay more attention to you, and that’s gonna happen starting now.”

she isn’t my girl. “she could be,” you think aloud. you tense. art chokes. patrick stifles a laugh.

“what?” you pray that he didn’t hear it. you had mumbled it, whispered it, there’s a chance it didn’t pick up. art says your name one, two, three times before you respond.

“sorry, i just zoned out a little.”

“no, you said something. baby, what’d you say?”

“i said ‘you should be’. like, you should be paying more attention, dumb joke, i was trying to sound threatening,” you slap your free hand against your lips to stop your word vomit, then your forehead as you reprimand yourself for acting so stupid.

art hums. “oh, okay.” it should relieve some on the tension in your shoulders, but it doesn’t. he usually laughs when you fluster, but he didn’t. is he unconvinced, or are you overthinking? “hey, tomorrow can you come to my practice at noon? we can go to the cafeteria after, i’ve got wayyy too many meal credits.”

you look to patrick for help, but he shrugs, enjoying the moment. “sure.”

art says his goodbyes, goes ‘mwah!’ through the phone (which usually makes you laugh, but now you feel bad), and once you say bye, he hangs up.

“i’ll go to his practice, too.” it’s never a question with patrick (or with tashi); he just lets you know. “tashi’ll be there. she’s always on the court when she’s free.” you find it endearing that he knows her schedule.

“tashi.” you like the way her name rolls off your tongue, but you’d rather die than admit it.

before you can say anything else, patrick walks over, swings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. “don’t forget about what i said.” his breath smells like spearmint gum, the type art is always chewing. maybe he gave him a piece. “just think on it, yeah?”

you nod, and he pats your cheek before walking out the door, leaving you feeling dazed. after a few moments of just laying on your bed, soaking in the conversation you just had, your phone dings.

we’ll see u tmrw :-) -pat (&tash)

[back2bluesidex]

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok. 

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:- 

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes” 

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago. 

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements. 

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin. 

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you. 

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous. 

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself. 

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin. 

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback. 

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-” 

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not. 

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless. 

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing. 

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”  

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?” 

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?” 

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well. 

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.  

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring. 

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you. 

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth. 

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?” 

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already. 

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly. 

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak. 

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down. 

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.  

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all. 

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you. 

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. 

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?” 

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear. 

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name. 

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.  

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight. 

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination. 

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water. 

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way. 

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him. 

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably. 

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.” 

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night. 

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case. 

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you. 

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of. 

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside. 

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone. 

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world. 

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line. 

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess." 

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you. 

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more." 

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.” 

“Yeah. see you.” 

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it. 

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process. 

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure. 

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit. 

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants. 

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit. 

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock. 

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you. 

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend. 

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure. 

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second. 

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out. 

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly. 

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away. 

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours. 

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower. 

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another. 

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more. 

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes. 

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot. 

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets. 

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more. 

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok  Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee  Reasons behind seeking help:  1. Changes in behavior  2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares  4. Mild panic attacks 

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table. 

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face. 

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.” 

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka  prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight. 

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.” 

You nod understanding his point of view. 

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks. 

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.  

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe? 

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers. 

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair. 

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything. 

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door. 

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend. 

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests. 

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll. 

You almost coo at the sight. 

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one. 

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby. 

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend. 

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight. 

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside. 

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly. 

Her cuteness makes you giggle. 

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind. 

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians. 

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.” 

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features. 

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.” 

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat. 

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair. 

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head. 

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?” 

Sua stays silent. 

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones. 

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth. 

The change is welcomed anyway. 

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it. 

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet. 

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question. 

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer. 

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing. 

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies. 

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds. 

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well. 

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung. 

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung. 

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?” 

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad. 

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes. 

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods. 

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?” 

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.” 

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly. 

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.” 

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him. 

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk. 

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months. 

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.   

Taglist:-

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@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

Day 31: Free For All (I chose to interpret this as whatever I wanted to write, and so I chose innocence/corruption kink)

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

| PAIRING(s):  Dave York x innocent!fem!reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  7.1k | CONTENT: affectionate pervert catches feelings, dd/lg vibes sprinkled throughout, virginity loss, lots of firsts, inexperienced reader, religious trauma, feelings of shame/guilt/doubt, protective!Dave, he's still a smug asshole tho, soft dom daddy type shit, dacryphilia?, POV switching, sort of a loose time format in the progression of the story | SYNOPSIS: Your sense of identity finally fractures. Dave is there to help you learn who you really are.

"𝙱𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚠, 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎; 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔, 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠. —　Ａｌｆｒｅｄ　Ｔｅｎｎｙｓｏｎ

“What if you’re– what do you do if you think you might not be a good person? I mean– how do you know if you’re a good person?”

You’d asked him this almost four months ago now. Trembling hands. Teeth gnawing at your pouty lips. Downturned eyes misted with tears. The irony of you asking him of all people about what makes someone good or not wasn’t lost on him. 

He wasn’t exactly the paragon of virtue given his extensive, murky past, but you didn’t know that. There seemed to be a lot of things you didn’t know. You were so unsure of yourself, having been practically sequestered by your religious zealot parents from being able to learn much of anything even if you wanted to.

 He’d answered truthfully that a lot of people had different ideas of what made somebody a good person, and there wasn’t really a clear-cut answer. Your face had drawn into even more of a confused, lost expression. Your entire life had been a black and white dichotomy of purity vs evil, dictated by some bullshit ancient text that the people screaming at you from the podium every Sunday probably didn’t even believe or adhere to themselves.

“I’m afraid I’m a bad person,” you’d admitted to him in a strained whisper.

He could tell you were genuinely afraid. Again, he was tactful but truthful in his response: from what he knew of you, he didn’t believe that you were a bad person, but it wasn’t really his or anyone else’s call to make. You’d nodded and appreciated his candor, but it didn’t stop you from crying.

He’d brought you into a pacifying embrace, softly stroking your back, and trying his damndest to not let you feel his cock quickly hardening. You were so helpless and sad and confused, and he knew he could be the anchor you so desperately sought. Something certain. Something unwavering to tether yourself to until you weren’t so scared of becoming your own person.

“I don’t care if you’re a good person or not.”

You’d blinked in silent confusion when he said it, not quite understanding how such a thing was possible.

“I mean it. I like when you’re around. I don’t care if you’re good or bad. I like you just how you are.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I do. And I think you like being around me, too.”

You’d nodded your head firmly at that, eyes flitting away in embarrassment to admit it. Your mouth parted so exquisitely when he’d gingerly gripped your chin to make you look at him again.

“Say it.”

“I like being around you,” you breathed. “You make things feel less confusing. It doesn’t–It doesn’t feel so scary all the time, if I’m with you.”

From then on he’d taken it slowly so as to not frighten you away. You needed him. You needed his help, his guidance. Despite being 22, your austere parents and strict upbringing had kept you from certain social and emotional milestones. You were crippled with the sort of self-doubt he’d expect in a freshman trying out for the varsity team.

You started lying to your parents about your whereabouts so you could see him more often. That was the first major hurdle to cross. The agony of being dishonest was something that truly unsettled you. Something seemed to click, though, when he’d told you that people should earn your trust and that it wasn’t something to just give away freely, even if they were your family.

He could see it in your eyes, the way they held his and danced, that you understood. Trust was to be earned and given – not demanded and taken. He left out the part of his thoughts about how maybe you shouldn’t trust him too much, either. 

You’d felt a magnetic pull to him – authoritative and sure of himself – from the moment you met. You were too scared to admit and act on all the thoughts you had about him. It was the same thoughts that had you lying awake at night in your childhood bedroom, sobbing and fearful of an eternity in hell for all the things you felt for him.

But then you’d see him again, and he was kind. He made you feel safe. He made your brain quiet in a way you’d never experienced. You didn’t feel scared to do or say the wrong thing constantly. You wished so badly that he could see you in the same way you saw him.

He never made passes at you. He saw you as some charity case, probably. You weren’t exactly knowledgeable about how to present yourself as a sexual person or if you even were one to begin with. 

The illustrations in the 70’s health textbook you’d rented from the library in eighth grade didn’t make you feel very much. It all looked confusing and strange. One passage even said it wasn’t expected for women to orgasm at the same rates men did. You certainly weren’t going to insert anything into yourself, and rubbing your palm against your clitoral hood like the book said felt overwhelming and like you were doing something bad. Your body felt like it belonged to someone else and you were violating it.

That same year you’d pecked a boy on the lips. Nothing. He’d told you that you were a bad kisser and left you to quietly cry over it. A few years later you tried again, knocking teeth with a different boy as you tried to mimic the tips in those teen girl magazines you read in a hurry at the grocery store, shoving it back onto the rack before your parents caught you reading such explicit things. Both times had left you wondering if you perhaps were meant for the nunnery. Maybe you weren’t even attracted to anybody. Maybe you should stop trying. Maybe your life was destined to be a sexless, holy sacrifice. 

Dave had obliterated all such suspicions. Your entire body felt like it was on fire the first time you were close to him. Your inhales were so heavy and short the first time he patted your bicep in a gesture of kindness that he’d asked if you were having trouble breathing.

When he found out you’d up and left your parents house, unable to take anymore of their suffocating judgment and rules, he tracked you down to the underfunded women and children’s shelter that you were staying at. You refused his offer of paying for you to stay somewhere, but you couldn’t hold out when he insisted your only other option was to come stay with him until you were back on your feet. While you knew it would never come down to him dragging you out of there, he still warned you he’d do it if he had to. Part of you considered resisting just to feel his big hands scoop you up and maneuver your body like a limp little doll.

It was beyond your wildest dreams that you would be staying under the same roof as him, even if you were in the bedroom down the hall. He’d been so stern with you but not in the way your parents always were. He wasn’t callous and lashing out because you were some massive failure. He was upset with you, sure, but it was because you hadn’t come to him first before running off to a rundown shelter without any real plan of what came next. He’d gone on and on about how it wasn’t safe and how you should’ve known better than to not reach out to him.

When you broke down in tears at having let him down so spectacularly, his face softened immediately. He consoled you, held you tight, until the tears dried up. Your body trembled from the stress of it all. That’s when he’d said your nickname for the first time: bunny.

“You’re shaking like a frightened little rabbit,” he’d noted. “My little frightened bunny. You don’t have to be scared anymore, bunny. You understand?”

You sniffed and nodded and burrowed deeper into his hold. He wasn’t mad at you. He wasn’t disappointed. He just cared about you a lot and wanted what was best for you. You followed his guidance like a lost little puppy, and it felt so good to have someone to trust with your life. He tucked you into bed every night, and you pouted when he closed the door. You didn’t want to be in here by yourself. You wanted to be in his room. With him. Together.

But you weren’t sure how to say those sorts of things or if the feelings even made sense. It felt like you didn’t know much of anything, but Dave was slowly changing that. Maybe one day he could help you with these confusing feelings, too.

He noticed how you squirmed on the couch, clearly distracted by something you wanted to say but couldn’t. It was something he’d been trying to work with you on. He was patient no matter how many times you stammered and stalled and chickened out of whatever it was you were trying to say. Sometimes it was as simple as saying what you wanted for dinner. Other times it was something else, something a little more intimate.

He saw the way you watched him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Your body certainly responded to him even if you couldn’t vocalize it yet. You didn’t even understand the way you drove him crazy with your peaked nipples showing through a soft, loose t-shirt or the way your shorts rode up your pussy when you sat criss cross on the counter in the morning and watched him work.

He determined very quickly that he couldn’t just let you out of here. The world would chew you up and spit you out. It would ruin you and break you. Some other man would come along and take advantage of you. They wouldn’t treat you right, not like how he would treat you. You were safe here and moldable. He could help guide you into a different person, the kind of person you wanted to be but didn’t even know it yet.

“Something bothering you, bunny?”

Your eyes go wide like you’ve been caught red-handed. Your face was so easy to read he almost felt a little guilty using it to manage the conversation.

“No,” you lie.

He tilts his head and pins you with an unconvinced look. “There’s no need to lie. You can trust me, you know.”

As he predicted, you’re immediately apologetic and placating, assuring him that you do trust him. He lets you fester in the anxiety for a few beats before holding up a hand to signal you stop, which you do immediately.

“You’re alright. Don’t be nervous. You can tell me anything.”

You nibble on your lip and look down to your hands, picking at the dead skin along your fingernails.

“Stop picking at your skin and look at me when you speak,” he says firmly but not unkindly.

Your big round eyes slide up to meet his probing gaze. You hug your arms around yourself and sit up straighter. “Um. I just… I was… I’ve been getting scared at night,” you admit.

“Scared? You don’t have to be—”

“It feels scary to be alone in there,” you amend.

You do your best to meet his eye. He’d known for weeks now that you wanted to share his bed with him. As much as he liked the idea of your body slithering against his all night, it was the only time he had to keep a clear head. It was difficult at times to be patient with your personal growth. He didn’t want to rush things, and your ass rubbing against his morning wood wasn’t something he was sure he could resist.

“If it would help, I can stay with you after I tuck you in. Until you fall asleep,” he offers like he hadn’t already prepped for this exact scenario.

It’s obvious you hadn’t expected him to extend time together in the intimacy of your room, and he can’t help but mirror the big smile that brightens your entire face. Your mood is buoyant the entire day and through the evening, all the way through your nighttime routine. He sits on the side of the bed like he always does, looking down at your cozied body all snuggled inside the comforter. What he doesn’t expect is for you to ask for more.

“I’m kinda cold,” you say with weak conviction. “Do you think, um, that maybe you could, like, rub my arms really fast? You know, like, friction? To make me warmer?”

He sees right through the farce but wants to reward you for speaking up. “Of course,” he hums gently. He runs his hands on your biceps through the comforter in moderately paced passes and watches your face go a little lax, your eyes slightly hooded. He rubs up and down your legs for good measure and has to hold back a chuckle at the little sigh you let out. He really shouldn’t, but he presses a kiss to your forehead and cups your jaw.

“Better now? You warm, little bunny?” he coos.

You made a squeaky sort of yes sound, and he smiles warmly down at you.

Every night now he tucks you in, runs his hands over your body to “warm you up,” and gives you a little kiss on the forehead. He stays until you fall asleep, which is very difficult with how worked up you get from his hands being all over you, even if it’s through a plush comforter. After a whole week of it, you actually grow a little bit moody and agitated. Your body feels like static electricity and restless, like something needs to happen to help it calm down.

You have to apologize to Dave when you get short with him over not wanting to finish eating your strawberries. It makes between your legs feel even more warm and sticky when he informs you that you will be finishing your berries and hand feeds you each and every one until the bowl is empty. You take his fingers just inside your mouth on the last one, just to feel them and suckle the juice. His usually stoic face pinches for a split second, mouth dropping open a little.

You think you might start refusing berries more often if you got to feel his hands in your mouth again. 

It was bound to happen. Your soft knock on his bedroom door at two in the morning. The low whisper of his name until he acknowledged you. He taps his bedside light on and watches your eyes bug when you realize he’s shirtless.

“What’sa matter?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

Your long t-shirt dances across your bare thighs, no sleep shorts to be found. You fidget with your hands and move from foot to foot. “Can I please stay in here with you? Just for tonight? I won’t wake you up anymore. I just–I really need you, Dave.”

Your voice breaks on the last part, and he can’t send you back to your room like this, all agitated and nervous. He wordlessly lifts the blanket for you to join him, and you quickly crawl underneath it and whimper when he leans over you to turn out the light again.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers even though he already has a fairly good idea of what the “issue” is. When you don’t respond, he drives the conversation forward in a more pointed direction. “You wanna tell me why you aren’t wearing any sleep shorts?”

“I had to take them off,” you choke out.

“Your legs are gonna get col–”

He stops short when his hand grazes over your bare hip. You’re not wearing anything at all under your t-shirt.

“It was too tight down there. It was all achy, and I had to take everything off. It was so bad, Dave. It was hurting. I couldn’t stand it any longer,” you rush to explain, sounding on the verge of a genuine panic.

“You ever have that happen before?” he feels out.

“Yes,” you mumble quietly.

“And what did you do before to make it go away?”

“I.. had a pillow tucked in between, and… nothing happened. It sort of made it worse. Until it went away after a while.”

“Is that what you tried tonight? And it didn’t work?” he probes.

“I get it worse and worse since I’ve been here, Dave,” you sniffle. “It keeps happening, ever since you warm me up after tucking me in.”

“You poor thing,” he coos. “S’that why you’ve been taking so long to go to sleep?”

You make a pathetic little sound of affirmation and clutch at him. He angles his hips away so you can’t feel how hard this is making him.

“Well I think I know how to help, but I don’t want to scare you.”

“I need your help, Dave. Please.”

He’s grateful for the cover of darkness to obscure his wolfish grin. “Have you ever made yourself come before, bunny?”

You whimper and tell him no but that you’ve tried. How your mind gets filled with shame and eternal damnation and fear. How you’re ashamed that you can’t even help yourself, like you don’t even know your own body. How helpless you feel. He calms you down and explains how he’s here to help you. You thank him endlessly, little errant tears finally drying up.

“I’m gonna help you tonight, bunny, but we’ll need to discuss it in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree.

He turns your back to him and pulls you flush against his chest. You startle at the feeling of his hard cock nudging at the swell of your ass through his sweatpants.

“Dave,” you whisper, nearly hoarse with nerves and fright.

“You’re okay,” he reassures you. “That’s just something that happens when a man is around a beautiful woman.”

“I don’t— I’m not ready for—” You start to sound panicked. This wasn’t how he was going to fuck you for the first time. For your first time. He wanted to savor every step of this. No rushing. He wanted to take you apart piece by piece until your body responded to his every word, every movement. His perfect little thing.

“Ssshh, it’s okay. It’s gonna stay where it is, okay? You might feel it because you’re pressing against it, but it’s not coming out today, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe in a sigh of relief.

“You don’t ever have to be nervous with me, bunny. You don’t have to be scared anymore. Not here.”

“Thank you,” you sniffle.

He whispers in your ear every small touch before he does it so you’re not surprised. He taps the light on again so he can see your face when he makes you come for the first time. It doesn’t take long, just a few delicate circles against your soaked clit. You’re bucking and crying and trying to hold onto him as you experience it all for the first time. You thrash around until you’re facing him, and then you wrap your entire body around him and hold on for dear life.

He smiles against your temple, tells you how wonderful you did, how beautiful you are. He ignores his erection, so tight and hard that it’s painful, until you fall asleep. He takes care of it in the bathroom before slipping back into bed with you. There’s no going back now.

It was the best night of your life. It was the best sleep of your life. You woke up to Dave reading news articles on his phone, waiting patiently for you to wake up. Your body was clamped to his like you might float away if you didn’t hold on tight enough. He didn’t make you feel embarrassed about anything. He just asked how you were feeling and if you were feeling better, if he had helped you at all. You assured him he had and thanked him a million times over.

When you talked about what had happened, he asked that you always let him know if you were feeling like that so he could help you. So, you did. Every night for the next four nights. Then it happened during the day, just after breakfast on the couch. He was slower that time. More methodical. More watchful. Trying out new ways to help you.

“No, don’t think about it. Keep your eyes on me and focus on how it makes you feel,” he instructs with a firmness that had you complying within seconds.

His fingertips are wide and heavy on your tongue. Saliva is starting to pool and stick to his fingers. You grasp at his wrist with both hands to bridge the gap between your bodies.

“Good. That’s good. Keep going.”

You lift the tip of your tongue and let the heft of his fingers weigh it down. Without thinking, you gently suckle. Dave’s eyes grow dark and focused, and it makes you suckle again and harder.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Just focus right here – focus on me.”

You whine at the encouragement, eyes feeling heavy and fogged, and split his fingers with your tongue. Your mouth hangs open with the movement, and he takes the opportunity to slowly rub his fingers back and forth along your gums.

“You like the way I feel in your mouth, bunny?”

The double meaning is nearly lost on you, but your cheeks burn with the confusing need his ambiguous, suggestive question drowns you in. Your brows scrunch in concentration. You pull his fingers out of your mouth just enough to answer.

“I like you in my mouth,” you whisper. “It feels good. You feel good. You make me feel good.”

He hums a lazy acknowledgement, draws his fingers back together, and slides them back into your mouth on the span of your tongue. “Suck.”

You oblige with a tentative suction that grows stronger with a few pulls.

“Good. That’s so good, bunny. You’re such a good girl for me.”

I can be good for you echoes in a scream inside your head.

As if every thought is plastered onto your forehead, Dave coos, “I know you want to be so good for me, don’t you? I know you can be such a good girl just for me, isn’t that right?”

A crackly moan gets stuck in your throat as you mindlessly bob your head in agreement.

“I wanna see just how much you like it.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth until they release with a soft slurping pop. His hands are already pushing the hem of your nightgown up your thighs like some theater curtain rising to debut the show.

“I’m gonna give her a little kiss, okay?”

You don’t have time to process what he means before his hot mouth is pursed around your clit. You fall apart in record time, overwhelmed with how there was something else that could feel so good. He never stopped making you feel so good.

You can’t stop thinking about more. You worked up the nerve to ask Dave if there were books or websites you could use to learn about sex and intimacy. He always found you the perfect article and even read it to you. Everything was handpicked by him and explained without making you feel dumb. Just hearing him say the words aloud was enough to get you going. It was mostly information about what things were called or how exactly things worked, but he made it sensual nonetheless.

Dave snores softly next to you, but you’re wide awake. The electric pull to have him do more to you made it difficult to sleep last night. You’re not even sure how to ask for it. You’re not even sure what more means in the grand scheme of things. You just know that following his words and whims felt safe and warm and intoxicating. You want him to show you more. You want to be good for him again. He finally stirs awake, and you immediately pounce.

“I-I can’t – couldn’t really sleep last night. I- Can I be good for you again?”

A sleepy, self-satisfied smile creeps onto his features. “Of course, bunny. You’re always good for me.”

You exhale a deep breath that had been lodged in your chest. Every time he spoke felt like a warm blanket wrapping around you, making you snug and safe.

He rubs his eyes and sits up against the headboard. A funny expression crosses his face just before he asks if you want to “see him.” He tilts his head, motioning to his groin.

You gulp but tell him yes. It’s unnerving, but you’re already getting wet just seeing the outline of his cock against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Take it out,” he says softly.

You swallow hard again but tug his waistband down, flinching when the heft of him smacks against his stomach.

“Go on and give it a kiss,” he says, low and secret. Just something special between the two of you.

You eye his hard cock with hesitance, knowing full well that you were supposed to somehow fit this thing in your mouth eventually. It was oral sex – a “blowjob” according to the sites you and Dave had been looking at – but you weren’t sure how to do anything, even with your readings.

“Just a little kiss, bunny,” he encourages, holding it firmly at the base in his big hand that makes it look a little less imposing. “Just like how you had my fingers in your mouth. And look at me when you do it.”

You hold his eye as you sink down between his legs. He rubs the head across your soft lips and groans when the tip of your tongue sneaks out to taste it. It smells warm and masculine, so very much Dave. Something about that is comforting and makes you less nervous.

You kiss it like the first time you kissed his mouth. You try to remember how you intuitively suckled his fingers and replicate the movements. Seeing him experience pleasure because of something you were doing was like a drug. His breath hitched as you wrapped your lips around the head, and you wanted to hear that gorgeous sound on repeat until the end of time. You don’t get as long as you’d like, but he explains that you’re making him feel so good he worries he might come too soon.

You feel hot all over when he tells you to prop yourself up against the headboard and spread yourself open for him. You hold your pussy lips apart, just like he said, and watch him tug on his cock. You might be able to do that for him one day soon, you think. You study the movements so you can use them, too, like a cheat code. Your breath stills when he jerks his load all over your spread out pussy. The warm trickle of it drips down and splashes onto your thighs. It feels nice.

“C’mere,” he grunts the moment he’s done spilling all over you. 

He lays down again and hauls you over to sit on his belly, thighs hugging his torso. His cum smacks and sticks against his skin where your pussy is seated against him.

“Rub yourself on me,” he orders. 

He braces his hands on your hips and starts guiding you to rock back and forth. You rest your hands on top of his and try to follow his motion. The friction feels nice, something vulgar and sensuous about wriggling around with his cum plastered all over your privates.

“Lemme see you come, just like this,” he rasps.

You try and try, but you can’t bring yourself to climax. You’re growing more frustrated by the minute that you can’t come. You feel aroused. You want to come. Your brain is holding you hostage yet again. As usual, Dave takes notice of your internal struggles.

“Can’t get there on your own, hm?” he asks with a tone dripping in amusement and arrogance.

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed but mostly worked up.

“Aw, no? That’s what I’m here for. I’ll help you feel good, bunny. Just ask really nice for it, and I’ll make you feel good.”

“I need you to make me feel good,” you whine. “Please. I can’t do it. I need you to make me feel good, Dave. Please.” 

He keeps one hand on your hips and pushes for you to rock faster. His other hand snakes between your folds and plays with your clit.

“So good for me.”

You come undone, rocking yourself back and forth through the rhythmic spasm of your walls. You’re panting still when he swipes two fingers beneath your entrance and scoops up the mixture of fluids. He holds it in front of your face, and you think you know what he wants you to do. You suckle his fingers and swallow down the mixture. It’s bitter and tangy and earthy. Not the worst thing you’ve ever tasted, but the texture is strange. He repeats the act and tells you not to swallow. It’s thick on your tongue, your mouth flooded now. 

“Open your mouth.”

You aren’t sure why he’d want you to do that when he’s just filled your mouth, but you trust him.

“Wider. Let it drip out.”

You roll your tongue forward, sending your spit and mixed fluids over the edge of your lip and dripping down your chin and onto your chest. He watches you with a restrained fire and smears it across your chest. You buck at the sensation when he thumbs your nipple.

“So sensitive,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

“Sorry.”

His eyes flick up to yours at the shame laced apology. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re so good for me. You did everything so well for me, bunny.”

You smile shyly at the encouragement. He always knows just what to say.

He was practically toying with you now. Every little thing was new to you, and every little thing made you a pliant, responsive mess for him. You were eager in a way that made him feel young again. Your mood had improved significantly since you moved in with him. You didn’t say unkind things about yourself as frequently. You were learning how to ask for the things you wanted. You were speaking with confidence and holding your head a little higher.

You were over the moon at the most basic things, to the point that it almost aggravated him that you had been given so little before you met him. You deserved so many things. You looked beautiful at the special little dinner he’d arranged for your birthday. You cried over your gift – a small, unused corner of the house that he’d fashioned into a little makeshift library with two plush seats and a small table for coffees and teas and snack cakes.

You loved reading. Mostly classic romance novels, but some surprising choices as well, like murder mysteries and thrillers. You never got to read much of what you wanted to growing up, but those kinds of rules didn’t apply here. He listened to you relay the stories to him, holding back a laugh when you told him all about the scary hitman villain from your most recent read.

“And he’s-he’s, like, an assassin, you know? And, oh my gosh, I know he’s supposed to be bad and everything, but I think it’s so… I actually sort of like how he’s just so good at being bad, you know? He’s an expert in all kinds of stuff. That’s how he doesn’t get caught. It’s just, UGH. It’s so good! He sounds kinda handsome, too. From the description and all. Do you think they made it into a movie? Could we see if they made it into a movie, Dave? And watch it?”

He likes to think that if you knew the real him that you wouldn’t care if he was good or bad, either. Just like he didn’t care if you were good or bad. Although, you were most decidedly good through and through. He encouraged you to write. It was a good outlet for you, he thought. You weren’t even shy about reading your little stories to him. He thinks about your next birthday and having your stories bound by a professional bookshop.

You’re leaning over the counter reading again when he comes up behind you and curves his wide hands along the front of your thighs. He rests his head beside yours to keep your eyes straight ahead. You shiver and sigh when he rubs the folds of your pussy lips, one each between his middle and pointer fingers. He holds them while he wedges his fingers together, softly pinching your clit.

“Keep yourself up, bunny,” he purls.

He’s setting you up for failure. He knows your legs are already trembling. They’ll give way when you come, and he’ll be there to catch you and steady you. Your entire body shakes as you climax, and your balance slips just like he knew it would.

“Poor baby can’t even stand up once I get my hands on her,” he breathes in a laugh.

You shoot him a pouty look, and he can’t help but grin.

Another lazy, dreamy evening together. It was supposed to be bedtime, but then you’d started grinding on his thigh and things devolved from there. He holds you from behind and alternates between fucking you with his fingers and palm hitting your clit with small, quick pussy slaps. You buck and gasp, not entirely sure if you are enjoying it or not.

“What a messy little pussy,” he groans in your ear. “So wet I had to give it a little spanking.”

Your breath trembles when he starts talking. His words shut down your brain and put you into your body, hyper aware of every sensation. You swear you feel more arousal drool out of you.

“Yeah, I feel how much wetter this pretty cunt is getting just from being spanked.” He pulls his hand out and slaps your clit again, drawing a loud moan from you. He laughs under his breath at your reactivity.

He gives one harsh slap and immediately presses all four fingers flat against your clit and starts wiggling back and forth in a blur. You come hard and loud. 

He flips you on your back and spreads you open, rubbing his dick between your engorged lips.

“Fuck me,” he groans. “Look at these lips, all fat and wet from being spanked.” He presses them tight around his cock, and you whine at the overstimulation. He shushes you gently. “Be good for me. Be a good girl and let me fuck this puffy pussy.”

He thrusts lazily through the envelope of your swollen lips, pulling away at the very last second to spill all over your stomach. He feeds it to you, and you readily suck his fingers clean. He smiles when you open your mouth to show him you swallowed it all down.

The shame creeps up again after you use the bathroom and join Dave at the sink where you brush your teeth together every night. You’re quiet,  feeling conflicted about how you enjoyed him popping his hand against your privates and talking about them so crudely, almost like he was using your body solely for his own pleasure. You feel guilty and like you shouldn’t have enjoyed it. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” he notes.

Your eyes go wide. You were so lost in your thoughts you’d almost forgotten he was there. You shrug and brush your teeth for an excuse to stall. Even when you’re done you struggle to keep eye contact. “Was what happened earlier okay?”

He tenses, and you think he might misunderstand what you meant. Like maybe  you were upset about how he’d treated you.

“Did you feel uncomfortable with what I was doing? You wish I hadn’t done it?”

“No, it’s not that,” you insist. You chew your bottom lip and try to not let the waves of guilt consume you.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” he demands, firm but not unkind. “And look at me when you answer.”

Your misted eyes find his, and his expression morphs into a softer, consoling expression. 

“Is it bad I liked it?” you ask, each word stumbling from your tongue.

“Is it bad you liked what?”

“When you… how you were .. touching me… sl-slapping it.. down there,” you practically whisper, feeling mortified and childish and unsure of yourself.

“Did it feel good?”

You nod.

“Then it’s not bad that you liked it.”

“But.. why did I… why did I like it?”

“You’re feeling ashamed because you liked it? You think you shouldn’t enjoy something like that?”

You sniff and nod. He pulls you close to him.

“When two people trust each other, there’s all sorts of ways you can explore and push boundaries. Sometimes you find a hard limit, and other times you find what you thought was the limit ended up being flexible and changeable.”

“What does that mean, though?”

He cups your face and tilts it back for you to fully look at him. “It means, bunny,” he says, steadfast and confident, “that you don’t have to accept what you thought were your limits. You’re free to learn and feel new things.”

“So why do I feel … why do I feel so guilty?”

“Because you’re unlearning all the lies you were told your entire life. That you should be ashamed about anything that makes you happy or makes you feel good.”

“Yeah…..” you concede.

He cradles your face and noses your forehead. “You’re experiencing all these new things with me. It’s good to learn what you like and what makes you feel good. I told you that’s what I’m here for. I’m here to take care of you, to make you feel good. To keep you safe and happy.”

You clear your throat and sniff away the emotion building up. “So I’m not a bad person for liking it?”

He smiles that lazy, arrogant way that makes your heart flutter. “No, bunny. You’re my good girl, remember? And good girls get to be nasty sometimes and get away with it. You can be bad when I let you, hm? You like when I let you be nasty, don’t you?”

Your cheeks burn with arousal and embarrassment. “Yeah,” you whisper.

“And you do such a good job being a nasty little slut for me.”

You gasp at the name, thighs rubbing together instinctively for reasons you still haven’t begun to understand.

He smirks at your reaction. “See, sweet girl? You know how much I like you being nasty for me. And it makes your little pussy all wet, doesn’t it?”

Without waiting for an answer, he pushes his hand between your legs and parts them so he can rub between your folds. He groans at the slick already pooling there. 

“I know what you need, bunny. I know how you need to be shown all the ways your body can feel good, and I care about you so much that I’m gonna do just that.”

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, eyes drifting closed at the feeling of his hand working you slowly.

“Thank you for what?” he fishes.

“Thank you for letting me be good for you and for being your... your nasty little slut.”

“Good girl,” he praises emphatically. “Now come for me.”

His fingers press hard against your nub and rub vigorously back and forth, and your orgasm barrels through your lower belly.

“It’s not gonna fit,” you worry. “It’s too big. It’s not gonna fit in me.”

He’d worked you open for the better part of half an hour, but you were still nervous.

“Sshh shh, I know, I know,” he soothes. “That’s why you have to learn to take it. You have to be such a good girl for me and learn how to take it.”

He braces himself above you, notching himself at your entrance, and breaches the opening. You moan and whine and claw at him to be closer to you. You hiss when he gets the head inside, and he pauses to let you adjust. Wet kisses all along your neck and collarbone. Whispers of praise and encouragement. You finally relax again, and he feeds a little more of his cock to you.

He makes it about halfway when you gasp and clench at the sting. He waits, ever patient and soothing. He’s waited this long to be your first. He can wait a few more moments while you attempt to accommodate the size of him. He watches your face contort as you struggle to take him in.

“Is-Is it in all the way yet?” you squeak.

“Just a few more inches,” he promises, not even trying to conceal his smirk.

You start to protest as to how that’s even possible, but he cuts you off with a deep kiss. The weight of him stretching and pushing against your walls burns and delights all the same, and you’re a whiny mess when he finally bottoms out. He fucks you slow, talking almost the whole way through. Never letting you get wrapped up in your own head. Never letting you forget that you’re his and he would never, ever let anything happen to you.

He stops when you ask him to. He starts again when you ask him to. He works your nipple between his teeth, your clit with his thumb, and sinks in and out of you in tandem. The feeling of coming on his cock is entirely different than his mouth or even his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a song of praise and reverence. You suck his thumb when he places it on your tongue, a comforting thing while he pistons into you a little harder, a little faster.

He’s invaded every part of you, every sense overwhelmed with him him him.

“You want me to make you all warm inside, bunny? Give her something to drink for her very first time?” he husks.

You nod, all dopey and fucked out, sucking his thumb harder and harder. You watch with half-lidded eyes as his mouth drops open, brows all furrowed, never losing tempo as his hips crash into you, finally stuttering as his release starts to flood your insides. He stays inside you even past when he’s gone soft. You don’t want to lose any part of him. Don’t want to be separated from him in any way.

He snuggles you close in bed, nuzzling your neck and ear. “My perfect little bunny. You did so well. Knew you’d do so well for me.”

“I always wanna be yours,” you say in a hush.

“You’ve been mine this whole time, bunny,” he chuckles. “Mine all mine.”

tagging people who previously expressed interest:

@guiltyasdave @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @bonezone44 @angiewatson

@for-a-longlongtime @drunk-and-capable @604to647 @beardedjoel @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@umnitsa @youmeand5bucks @toxicrecs @syd-djarin @mothandpidgeon

@indiegirlunited @sizzlingcloudmentality @ghotifishreads @bubble-pop-eclectic

[babyleostuff]

Hi sweetheart💙 how are you? Wish you a great day💙 I recently read the Jeonghan as your boyfriend and it's so adorable, can you make one for Wonwoo? Thank you💙

so happy to hear you enjoyed it love <3 here's a Wonwoo one and have a great day as well!

WONWOO AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

genre | a lot of fluff

author's note | if you want me to write this with any other member, let me know <3

𓆩♡𓆪 so incredibly in love with you

𓆩♡𓆪 anyone that looks at him can practically see his heart eyes for you

𓆩♡𓆪 if the boys see him smiling at his phone, they know he’s texting you 

𓆩♡𓆪 his aura when he’s with you is all rainbows and hearts (it’s almost sickening)

𓆩♡𓆪 but he couldn't be more grateful for finding you and pulling your hot ass 

𓆩♡𓆪 because come on, look at you 

𓆩♡𓆪 he is your comfort person and the first soul you turn to when you’re having a hard time 

𓆩♡𓆪 his kisses are gentle and loving, but the also carry a sense of passion

𓆩♡𓆪 because he is not always able to be next to you due to his job, he wants to convey his feeling for you through his actions

𓆩♡𓆪  when he has any free time from schedules he wants to spend every second with you 

𓆩♡𓆪 probably at home too

𓆩♡𓆪 when he doesn’t have to pretend to be anyone else and doesn’t have to worry about cameras rolling all the time 

𓆩♡𓆪 he can just be Wonwoo 

𓆩♡𓆪 will read to you when you’re tired (will read to you even when you’re NOT tired) 

𓆩♡𓆪 besides reading, he loves trying out new creative pastimes with you 

𓆩♡𓆪 like baking, which didn’t end THAT well (your kitchen almost burned down, but that’s beside the point) 

𓆩♡𓆪 or trying to plant different flowers and take care of them (which didn’t end well either, as both of you forgot to water them after like a week) 

𓆩♡𓆪 a cliche, but he adores taking photos of you 

𓆩♡𓆪 even if you’re a shy person and don’t necessarily like having pictures taken, he’ll make you feel like the most beautiful creature in the world (which you are) 

𓆩♡𓆪 will not let you doubt yourself, not for a second, because the person on the photos he takes is all he ever needs in his life 

𓆩♡𓆪 the best person to take your candid photos 

𓆩♡𓆪 you’re probably not even aware, but he has a whole album dedicated to you 

𓆩♡𓆪 looks through the albums when he’s away, because he misses you so much 

𓆩♡𓆪 but he doesn’t want to seem clingy, so he won’t ever tell you about it 

𓆩♡𓆪 will always stand up for you, if someone makes you uncomfortable or sad 

𓆩♡𓆪 because one thing he absolutely cannot stand is his love being sad cuz of other people being mean

𓆩♡𓆪 another cliche, but video gaming

𓆩♡𓆪 even if you’re not that into it, he’ll try to warm you up to the idea 

𓆩♡𓆪 and teach you gaming to some extent 

𓆩♡𓆪 even if you suck, it doesn’t really matter to him, because you’re spending quality time together 

𓆩♡𓆪 and probably laughing your asses of, because you’re so bad at it

𓆩♡𓆪 gives you small kisses when you get something right or survive a level 

𓆩♡𓆪 but if you’re good, he’ll become SO competitive 

𓆩♡𓆪 does not go easy on you, he does everything he can in order to win 

𓆩♡𓆪 late night cuddles are his favourite

𓆩♡𓆪 you lay in each others arms, your head on his chest and an arm draped across his middle 

𓆩♡𓆪 he has an arm around your waist and his hand pats your head gently 

𓆩♡𓆪 you talk in a hushed tone, share your worries or discuss the most random topics 

𓆩♡𓆪 it really doesn’t matter because you’re together 

𓆩♡𓆪 and that’s what he misses the most when he’s away on tour 

𓆩♡𓆪 your calming presence by his side 

𓆩♡𓆪 but he is always just one phone call away and always lets you know that you can call him anytime 

𓆩♡𓆪 because you are the most important thing in his life and he’d do anything for you

your messages &lt;3

[blixabargelds]

for the prompt game “zipping or buttoning their jacket for them” for clegan!! if you want to! 🫶 love your stuff on ao3 and am pressing my face intensely against the glass of all the superstar stuff you post

@roycest too thank youuuu sm guys <33

i borrowed @swifty-fox’s little beasts boys for this one hehe thank u for letting me play with them :3 cw gore mention ~~

- zipping or buttoning their jacket for them

John holds the cigarette up to Gale’s mouth. He knew that he’d quit long before they met. John had offered one without mentioning that; Gale had taken it without a word. His fingertips brush Gale’s lips as he raises the smoke for him again, the usually plush skin turned chapped with anxiety, and sterile air.

He can’t hold the thing himself, because he’s got twin tears through his hands. On each hand: two fractured metacarpals, four torn tendons- palm, and back- one rough, bleeding hole. Disinfected, bandadged, and splinted still now. He’s slated for surgery on both of them in the next couple of days. John’s fingers shake as he helps Gale take another drag.

“Gale-”

“Don’t, John.”

John rubs at his eyes. They sting from being open so long, but each time he shuts them he can only picture Gale, face twisted in agony and two seven-inch iron nails through his palms. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Gale says again. He fixes John with a look. His eyes are red-rimmed, vaguely glassy from the shock, and the pain, and the good stuff they’ve given him, but it’s an effective look nonetheless. “You got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

John laughs. A teasing, phantom itch passes through the crook of his elbow. “I’m the one who-”

“John, stop it, please.”

It’s only the fraying of Gale’s voice that shuts John up. He wants to touch him so bad but he can’t. Everyone knows him, everyone is doing double takes at the young priest, smoking Reds held up to his face by someone else, and sporting gauze-wrapped stigmata at 2am outside the ER.

John wonders if that’s the only reason they picked him. Like John’s got a pronounced connection to the church in some way less complex than the truth of that relationship. Maybe he’s just been going around wearing his twelve steps on his sleeve, giving off some vibe of reformed dedication to his higher power. He doubts that, though. Very fucking much.

The other explanation is that these people- these guys John owed money to, as they told him- knew about him and Gale. That they talk. John’s got no idea how they would. He’s got no idea who they were, because he can’t remember so many of his fuckups; so many people he’s pissed off or fucked over. Got your priest, said the anonymous text on the screen of his shattered phone. Yours. John wonders if they could tell, if they didn’t know already, that his connection to Gale went beyond Sunday Service in the way that he’d reacted; like a rabid dog as they twisted the nails in deeper. They’d thought it was hilarious. Live crucifixion, real original idea, grinding in the rusty iron fixing Gale to the tree behind until said priest had finally cried. John would’ve given over every cent if he hadn’t been scared for a second that they’d just kill Gale.

He’s not sure where his strength came from, in the end. He hadn’t even thought of his parole.

He wants to hold Gale’s fucking hand. But that’s not something they do anyways, and Gale doesn’t need him to. Couldn’t if he did.

John throws caution to the wind, hopes whoever walks past next might see nothing more than the expected level of comfort to be seen outside an emergency room. He wraps an arm around Gale’s shoulders and pulls him tight to his body. John can feel the way he’s shaking. Adrenaline and morphine slowly seeping out of him, and Gale gives in, too, pressing his face into John’s collar. His breaths come fast and uneven against his skin.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” John says.

He dips his face lower, shielded from view by the side of Gale’s head, and ghosts a kiss above his ear. It’s too tender for whatever they are. Which is currently undefined, a burning mess and hidden clashes of tongues, but John’s too tired to care. He can’t stop hearing the scream Gale clenched behind his teeth.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Gale says. John can’t stop hearing Gale’s quiet, fervent praying. He’d been kind of unconvinced by his devotion before. Still is, mostly- John’s pretty sure he was counting his own Hail Marys, too. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet. It’s freaking me out.”

John laughs. It sounds embarrassingly wet. He peels himself back from Gale, dragging out another smoke. He passes this one back and forth between them; watches Gale wince as his fingers automatically flex, as if John’s gonna let him take it himself. He hasn’t really got anything to say, except that he’s sorry.

“You’ll look hardcore.”

Gale blinks. Then laughs, a shaking and breathless thing, kind of heavenly to John; after the night from hell. “Right.”

“You’ll be the most Godly priest around. The gay rumours have got to stop now.”

“John,” Gale hisses.

John holds his hands up in surrender. “I said rumours. Unfounded, I’ve heard. No fucking idea where anyone would get that from, truly, sick thing to make up about a priest.”

“Fuck, John, what if my fingers don’t work anymore.”

John stops talking again at that. He looks down at Gale’s bandaged hands. There hadn’t been as much blood as John expected, the two long nails plugging the wounds where they speared him back to front. It was only when Gale had ripped one out in the car that it really started to bleed. John told him not to. Gale knew not to, only John guesses he hated the look of the things in his palms, because he’d just tugged one straight out in a daze, and sent blood spurting all over the dashboard, pooling down in his lap. John has seen a lot of shit, but he’s never seen right through someone’s body before. Right through his hands. Gale won’t even be able to turn the pages of his precious Bible alone for weeks, at least. John gets a horrible image of Gale’s loose fist working his cock, the slide of it visible through a gory opening in his tender flesh.

These guys in their masks had asked where Gale’s God was now. He looks like he’s still trying to figure it out.

John could kill someone for a drink. A joint, maybe. A line, or worse. He shakes a little with it.

Gale is still shaking, too. Gentle tremors running up and down his lithe body, useless hands coming around to hug himself. It’s cold, and late, but they’ve been surrounded by doctors and nurses and cops, disinfectant and bleating machines for hours. Gale, who doesn’t smoke anymore, had asked for a cigarette, and John wasn’t going to say no. He shrugs off his old Patriots hoodie and helps Gale’s hands through the sleeves.

“’S’alright,” he’s saying, even as he’s blinking slowly, grimacing with the brush of fabric on his fingers.

“Don’t be a martyr,” John says. “For once.”

John zips the sweater up for him. He pulls the hood up over his ears for good measure, and leans back to admire his work. It would be funny if it weren’t so pitiful; Gale dwarfed somewhat by the thing, mussed hair sticking out from under the hood, and that vaguely smug, pious air gone completely from his tired face. John wonders if his voice will tremble at the altar. If he’ll even get back up there for a while. John doesn’t think it’ll take long. Gale is infuriatingly stubborn.

“John, I can’t feel my fingers,” he says, exhaustion pulling down that defensive veil and making his voice thin. John realises he never answered his question

“Hey, it’s the painkillers. The doctor said you’ll get movement back, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t say how much,” Gale croaks.

“Well,” John grits his teeth. Swallows, then says, “Jesus’s hands worked fine.”

It’s meant to be light, but it comes off sort of desperate.

Gale shuts his eyes. “Ain’t Jesus, John. I’m just a fuckin’- some idiot.”

“Cut it out, Gale,” John says. It’s sharp enough that Gale opens his eyes and looks at him, owlish and shocked. John tugs at his curls and sighs. “Fuck, sorry. Just, bad shit happens when there’s scum involved. Trust me. Y’not actually a saint, some guys fucked you up. It should’ve been- it shouldn’t have been you. Alright? This sort of shit shouldn’t happen to you.”

Gale stares at him. John’s arms still itch uncomfortably, a familiar pull in his stomach making him feel off kilter. He thinks of his one year chip. Thinks of swallowing it whole, seeing if it does any damage to his insides.

“Want to listen to some records later?” he says instead.

“I’m gonna be here overnight, John.”

“Yeah,” John says. “Me too.”

Gale blinks. He looks fucking dreadful; tired and hurt, lost in John’s clothes and all messed up where he’s usually so put together. Sheet white and in pain. John wants to kiss him so bad his veins ache with it. It’s sort of funny, how John thinks he’s friends with a priest now.

“Sure,” Gale says after a while. “I’ll listen to some records with you.”

[urlocaldesertdweller]

Reader X Mafia! Venture pt2

ah yes the wanted and requested pt 2

(PLEASE READ PT 1 BEFORE READING THIS, or don't idc)

https://www.tumblr.com/urlocaldesertdweller/757756682688495616/reader-x-mafia-venture?source=share

srry yall i took the more wholesome route cuz im a wuss. :,)I made Venture a hopless romantic cheesy kind of possessive person.?? help me (I also confirmed them listening to love songs during all of this thinking about u<3)

That one night you encountered the Sloan Cameron, you thought it was the only time you were going to see them, you thought that was that. You really thought you were going to have a normal life after that.

It's only been so many eventless days after that night that you noticed these "gifts" appear on your front door. First was a bouquet of thornless yellow roses. Considering you always doubted your own beauty and looks, you thought it was a mistake until you picked it up to find a pale brown envelope with "To (Y/n)" written in a yellow glitter gel pen.

In this city, you would've had the right mind to not pick anything suspicious with your name on it, the number of horrible things people can plan to lure people out of their protective homes to sweep them away. But considering you almost seem to be known for making bad choices you pick it up and rush into your safe home quickly locking it and shutting your blinds.

You felt like a little detective when you set the flowers and letters on the table under the light looking for anything you can find. A sign, a signal, a message something can bring a thought or an idea to your head but nothing came up until you finally opened the letter. Everything was written in what seemed to be an attempt at cursive and many smudges and cross-outs with more ink can be seen it makes you chuckle. This love letter you see looks like a messy 5th-grade paragraph.

"Well, you finally got the courage to pick up this letter mi amor! If you manage to figure out who sent this, well you got me! But anyway I just wanted to send you this so you wouldn't be too scared when more gifts come your way. I'll keep things simple for your pretty head gorgeous. You caught the eye of a dangerous but sweet person you have already met, everything you do and say makes my heart skip a beat more than any heist I can pull off. I want to give you every rose in the world and make you mine for the rest of my life. You truly catch my eyes more than any other relic or artifact from the past."

You have to admit that whoever wrote this was clearly in some cheesy romantic mood, but being honest the words made your stomach stir with clear interest despite the red flags appearing in your head. But looking further into the letter to find much smaller text, it seem that they completely had given up on the cursive and went back to normal handwriting.

"-P.S. If you know who I am (did I make it too obvious?) Please find me during the night, but you won't find me but I'll certainly find you! ;)"

You feel your hand twitch wanting to slap yourself in the face feeling the second-hand embarrassment radiating off of this goofy letter. You didn't have to think too hard about wondering who could've sent such a letter. You turn to the bouquet, picking it up. You inhale the sweet subtle scent, these would certainly brighten up the place along with its beautiful fragrance.

The realization finally hits you as you fill up your best vase with water. Someone likes you. Not only that but they like you enough to send you roses with a cheesy letter full of effort. Until your heart stops to remember who likes you, you know easily it's Sloan Cameron. But why? What could have possibly caught their interest about you.? Not only were you going to confront Sloan but you were going to question them.

It's night once more, you have mentally prepared yourself for this moment as you pull your jacket on. A normal life they said, a normal life that feels so out of reach now with a gang member having a crush on you. These past few days have certainly been full of mixed feelings, to say the least.

You step to your door, and you hesitate to reach for the knob a million thoughts rush to your mind. One was thinking about Sloan waiting for you and they will be waiting with a weapon in their hand, another says that they'll kidnap you and keep you as a love toy or something weird like that... It's really telling how you were feeling with most of the thoughts ending in a negative and dreadful outcome.

No, you can do this! If you can watch them bury a body, and outrun them, you can certainly face them when they supposedly confess to you about like like you. Yeah, you can do this!

You throw your palm onto the knob, completely ignoring the fact you just drenched it in your own sweat, but you swing the door open and step out with confidence! You were almost full of too much confidence as you nearly left the house with the door wide open, you scramble to lock it as you huff returning to your nightly stroll.

Of course, you always felt like something was watching you even before your encounter with Sloan. You stuff your hands into your pockets, and you keep on glancing all over the streets even taking a look from the rooftops as if Sloan would be there watching you from above like Batman.

It would be some time until you thought of walking towards where you first found Sloan, at the rotting graveyard where you caught them slacking during their work. You huff watching the environment change in minutes until you finally stop at the edge of the dry grass looking upon the tombstones.

You realize that where the fresh hole was now filled up with a pile of dirt with a wooden cross. You figured that this was the grave that Sloan Cameron just finished days ago. Despite Sloan killing numbers of people you can't even imagine, you felt that it was somewhat bittersweet for them to have some sort of respect to give the people proper graves.

You hummed and whistled shuffling around waiting. You almost thought about moving somewhere else until you heard boots echo through the small alley from your side you saw a figure in the shadows which made you jump a little. You seemed to always act innocent and dumb during situations like these.

"Hello.?"

You say loud enough to echo towards the walls of the alley. The figure starts to walk toward you, and the long silence makes you more nervous thinking there's a good chance that this isn't Sloan. Your legs feel the blood rush and you feel like running all of a sudden.

You panic as the figure starts to run towards you, they are too close for you to even try to run. You yelp to see the shadow enter the light. Even though you see Sloan stop right in front of you, you are still scared as you pull your hands up defensively with a yelp.

"Please dont hurt m-!"

"(Y/n) calm down it's just me!"

You hear them giggle which frustrates you with how cheery they can act after almost giving you a heart attack.

"...Sloan! Dont ever scare me like that again! I thought you were some crook wanting to kill me.."

You lightly shove them in the shoulder with a pout. They only keep on chuckling which makes you almost want to break your sternness for a moment.

"Alright alright I won't do it again I promise mi joya!"

They say with a wink which reminds you of why you came out here in the first place. You keep a stern look which seems to get the message towards Sloan and they almost seem to look like a kicked puppy. Besides the butthurt look, they can tell that you want to say something. You take this moment to finally take a peek at their clothing, it seems that they were still wearing the same work outfit but lost the thick jacket allowing you to glance at their well-built arms, the loss of their jacket gives you the possible idea that they were off duty.

"...What is it.? What happened.? Did you not like my gift.?!"

They seem to say everything out in a heartbeat clearly worried about what you are going to say. You only sigh and push a finger towards their lips hushing them before they can assume what's wrong. You tighten your eyes to which theirs widen but they quickly pipe down.

"You think too much. Just let me talk okay!?"

They dont bother with moving away from your placed finger and they nod with a mhm! Again you ask yourself how someone like them got such a dangerous and dark job.

"First of all. The flowers were nice and so I thank you."

You watch them smile a little clearly feeling proud of themselves that you liked at least half of their gift but they are quite down to hear you out once more.

"But! The letter dear god the letter..."

They cough and you watch their faces upturn into a nervous smile as they shuffle uncomfortably tugging on the collar of their tucked button-up.

"I dont know what to think honestly. And I was hoping that tonight could be where we can talk about this...thing you have on me. That's all, don't get all sweaty and scared yet!"

They look like they have been holding their breath for a while you guess suspecting a complete rejection. They exhale and they bend over their bends catching their breath before quickly shooting back up bright as ever.

"...Yeah we can talk! Yep, talking is my...number one thing heh..."

Never mind they still seem tense around you. You only sigh as you shift on your feet wanting to move around instead of staying at this gloomy graveyard.

"You dont have to keep up an act with me, I just want a simple walk and talk with you, set some ground rules know.?"

They perk up and step aside letting you leave the graveyard first with a bow. You can't help but chuckle at their charm with you, you can't deny that it warms your heart a little at the thought. You step out from the rotting wood fences and Sloan follows behind you eventually walking up beside you, you notice that ever since they have been keeping almost a look on you not the creepy kind but the more admiration kind which makes you chuckle.

"So... Was it all too much.? Yknow in the letter.?"

You look at Sloan with a small grin.

"Being honest, yeah if I hadn't met you before I would definitely think that I'd have a stalker."

They feel their cheeks redden up and they look down at the sidewalk stuffing their hands in their pants pockets.

"But whatever is going on, between you and me right now. I'm just going to need some time to think right now okay.? That's all I need, you can send all of the gifts to your heart's content but if you want you and me to know be a thing much more talking and discussions will be in order.!"

They lift their head and look up at you with a small grin, they look at you like a fallen angel for you gifting them a chance. You bump your shoulder into theirs jokingly to lighten the mood to which they find themselves giggling and bumping back.

"Me? Oh yeah! I'm surprised you haven't called the cops on me for finding me during my job! It's a gift alone that you are even talking to me with my kind of reputation! But yeah you can take all the time you need."

The two of you share a comfortable moment of silence seems that both of you are content with how this meeting is going. As you walk further up the street you pass the bar you left that one late night that led the two of you first meeting. You thought that you were going to pass and eventually do a turnaround until you felt Sloan's hands grip on your wrist stopping you right in front of the large entrance.

"Hey, my gang owns this building and bar yknow.? There is a really nice view from the high levels I promise you!"

Before you can even turn to look at them to speak they whip out their best puppy eyes shining straight into yours, they tug on your sleeve hoping that you play along...walking into the same building the gang that your supposed stalker also works for.? Yeah, you are dead before you know it. You only sigh which sends the signal to them and they smile the biggest you've seen them smile and before you know it they pull you towards the entrance ignoring the long line that stretches along the street then cuts around the corner.

You remember waiting in this long line just to get a good drink, you feel the pairs of eyes burn holes into your back as Sloan stops in front of a tall bodyguard who only glances at you and then at Sloan.

"Heya Tuilp! ...Dont worry about them, they are my guest!"

Tulip grunts and nods and Sloan drags you into the bar where the music blasts and the whole mood seems to shift in the main bar. The bar already made you feel out of your element until you had some drinks to relax your nerves.

But Sloan glances at you and giggles then continues to guide you through and past the main Bar to where the overall vibe and aesthetic of the building changes to one of more professionalism. From the high ceiling to the complete sets of marble walls and flooring. The glass elevator further amazes you and you are tuck in with Sloan. Your gaping mouth at everything tells Sloan everything about you during this.

"So I can tell you haven't been in this part of the building before!"

"This place is...certainly gorgeous..."

If the bar alone made you feel the odd one out, this much cleaner rich lobby-looking room made you feel like a wanted target. Sloan pushes one of the highest buttons and before you know it the elevator shoots up faster than you could think, which makes your heart race, the feeling alone of quickly gaining height makes your legs shake...it also didn't help that you had a bit of a fear with heights.

Sloan leans forward noticing your yelp then quick silence, soon watching your shaky legs they know. They can't help themselves so they grab onto your hand and hold it tight. You look at them and only grin and soon enough your mind starts to focus on the warm skin-to-skin contact between your hands instead of the continuing elevator.

Soon enough you hear a ding and the doors open behind you. And you smell the fresh air and feel the cool wind hit you, Sloan still holding on your hand interlocks your fingers into theirs and they lead you out into the warm night. You eventually let go of their hand and you walk towards the railing.

"Pretty nice huh.? I like to come out here from time to time when times get too rough for me..."

They join you by your side on the railing looking at you with a smirk seeing your stare into the sky. Sloan wasn't kidding, although you could easily see the stars back down from the streets. All the way up on the building Sloan's gang owned, you couldn't help but feel closer to the night sky and further away from the chaotic city. You feel yourself leaning on the railing feeling your eyes never cease to pull away from the tinkling and blinking stars.

"This is beyond beautiful..."

The two of you continue to look upon the shiny sky, the moon is bright enough to place a light on the two of you. Your eyes finally break away to look around on the surrounding floor. You quickly realize now that this was the sky roof and a part of the roof garden. Now you know how Sloan got the roses for you, you can't help but think that this was slightly planned by Sloan and you eye them up with a smirk before nodding towards the large garden. Surprisingly everything looks happy and thriving for living in a city like this.

"Did you plan on taking me up here to the garden as well, ya charmer..."

"Well, you could say that I did have some sort of plan to show you one of the prettiest places I know! I'd just thought it could be nice to share it with someone who isn't from the gang yknow.?"

You walk further into the garden, and you hear Sloan's boots thump against the floor which makes your heart beat just a little faster, you never thought that you could have such a fun time with a gang member on a rooftop. You turn all around to look at the variations of plants ranging from vegetables, and fruits, to flowers.

"Oh? Would you say that all of this gang stuff weighs down on you from time to time.?"

They stay quiet and you turn to look at them with a look of concern.

"..."

"I'll take that as a yes then..."

You'd figure on changing the subject with taking their hand in yours and taking them towards the thorny rose bushes. A wave of the scent reaches you sense and you hum hopping to talk about roses instead of prodding with personal business with Sloan. They already seem to set their mind on the flowers, they take in a white rose in their hand cupping it, and bring it close to their nose. They slowly inhale and exhale seeming much more happier now which makes you relieved.

"Good to know where the roses came from then.!"

You chuckle as you glance at the bright moon finally noticing how bright it is with being able to see your...at this point, you'd forget with names and call them your date considering how intimate this is looking. They chuckle finally pulling away from the roses to look at you with the sweetest smile, maybe it was your unnecessary jacket for tonight but you felt a little warmer with their smile towards you.

"Yeah, I always looked for the best for you!"

The two of you share a laugh comfortably together once more until you hear a click... This makes the both of you widen and awake, but it seems that Sloan looks more nervous than you, which makes your heart race.

"Um, Sloan what was-!"

They grab onto your hand running which makes you yelp, you hear one more click then you realize what it was. Timed sprinklers, water shoots out all over the place. At that moment it almost felt like the sprinklers were getting more water on you and Sloan than the actual plants...

You both scream as you feel your clothes get soaked with water giving the extremely uncomfortable feeling of the clothes sticking to your skin. You walk too far into the rather large garden, and you watch Sloan just stop in the middle still getting hit with water they turn towards you their hair no longer fluffy and messy. You both look into each other's eyes feeling a message being sent through eye contact.

You can't bear your awful jacket anymore and you finally shuck it off feeling completely relieved and feeling 10 pounds lighter. Honestly the water eventually just felt like a nice outdoor shower...with your date.

"..."

"..."

You share a moment of silence before breaking out into a fit cheering and jumping. You had to admit the city would have its heatwaves even during the night somehow so this felt heavenly. It takes you a moment to realize that Sloan wrapped their arms around your waist and your jumps match in rhythm. Honestly, you didn't care what they did to you because, in your equally messed up head, you felt yourself catching feelings for the Mole.

"Whoo! This is amazing!!!"

"...I LOVE LIFE!!!!!!"

Eventually, the sprinklers stop leaving the two of you soaked, you stop jumping and you have nothing else to do but look at each other. Maybe it was the soaked feeling kicking in. Maybe it was Sloan holding you by the waist. But you felt yourself leaning in forward...

Honestly, when you closed your eyes you didn't know what to expect but you felt something soft against your lips. You open your eyes to see that Sloan is holding a freshly plucked rose between your lips and theirs. You felt a little embarrassed not only with how Sloan juked you but also realizing how much you fell for this person. Nevertheless, you pull away to watch them grow a smirk and they chuckle. You playfully beat against their shoulder which only makes them laugh harder to the point they start to wheeze.

They drop you on the ground as they hold their chest and whip a tear away.

"Oh my! I'm sorry I couldn't help it I'm sorry!"

You quickly find a way to get back at them by taking advantage of them being busy with laughing. You cup their cheek which stops them completely and you lean in to peck their wet cheek with your lips. They go from a laughing mess to a flushed stuttering mess, they bring their hands to their face trying hard to cover it.

"I wasn't ready... How dare you surprise me! Mind you I loved it but...yknow.!"

You only grab on their arm now you are the one dragging them away out of the gardens to find some method to dry each other off...

i did it :,) im rlly hoping yall like it even if I went the more cliche cringy route, maybe soon I can write a different more dark route if you want!

[sharkboywrites]

"You're Just a Boy, You Are No Man, And Nobody You Know Will Understand"

TWST dorm leaders finding out stealth ftm reader is trans

Reader is a trans man and implied to pass, misgendering, mentions of dysphoria, reader is on their period in Leona and Malleus's parts, mentions of reader's chest (non sexual), can be read as platonic or romantic

A/N: The idea for the title is a lyric from "things to do" by Alex G. When I played twst I kinda just always saw myself, being yuu in game, as a stealth trans man, because why would they need to know I'm trans?

Riddle Rosehearts

It really hadn't been intentional when he found you changing, he was just suspicious as to why you didn't change in the boys locker room with every other student after gym. Of course this hot head doesn't tolerate any rule breaking and you weren't changing where you were supposed to! If you didn't feel comfortable then you could use a stall like everyone else!

After changing himself, quickly in order to catch you, he stormed off to find you and managed to catch a glimpse of you at the end of the hallway, entering a bathroom. Now he could have waited until you left the bathroom to confront you, but he decided that catching you in the act would be better and he could give punishment accordingly. (Yeah, to say he doesn't exactly think when he's mad is a fair assumption.)

What he hadn't expected was to walk in on you with no shirt, and you struggling with some type of bra-looking thing (man does not know what a binder is I'm sorry), and being the dignified man he is, let out a loud yelp, and walked back out of the bathroom as quickly as possible.

Standing outside of the bathroom waiting for you to finish, his mind raced. What did you have on? Why were you wearing that? Did he really just walk in on you changing? What was he thinking?

He felt himself tense up as he heard the door next to him squeak open. You walked out in your regular uniform and quite honestly looking more nervous and upset than he did. When making eye contact with you, he straightened his posture and gave you a genuine apology. "I'm truly sorry for walking in on you during an inappropriate moment! That was irresponsible of me."

You quickly and nervously accepted his apology as students started to crowd the hallways, walking to their next classes, and ran off. He really hated how upset you looked in that moment, and mentally beat himself up for the rest of the day for his stupid decision. Crewel even had to get his attention during alchemy. Embarrassing.

Later that day, around 7 pm, he got a text from you. You two never really texted, only had each other's numbers in case of emergency (aka Ace and Deuce getting themselves in trouble). You had asked him to come over to ramshackle to talk. He felt anxiety rising in his chest, but knew he needed to talk to you, so he promptly sent a quick text back and made his way over to your dorm.

That night the two of you had a very deep talk. you explained everything to him, from being trans, to the binder, and why you changed in the bathroom. While Riddle wasn't 100% educated on things like these, he understood and made sure to let you know he supported you and could always to come to him, even if he's bad at comfort, when he saw you tearing up.

After that you two defiantly grew closer. In any situation he saw that could out you, he made sure to cover for you, even if it was against the rules. If you wanted to come out, he'd be there to help you, maybe talking to people like Trey and Cater first, and would collar anyone who dares disrespect you.

Leona Kingscholar

Shark week has to be the worst part of the month. Varying on how bad your period gets from small cramps to doubling over in the hallway and almost passing out me, it still brings a wave of discomfort with your body and some heavy feelings, and you doubt in your current situation birth control would be easily available.

You aren't dumb. You know the second you got close to Leona, or any other beastman for that matter, he'd immediately be able to smell the blood on you. Animal traits or whatever. So the most logical thing to do was avoid Leona at all costs.

Or not. Leona was not happy that you were avoiding him. Just like how you aren't dumb, he isn't either. He knows somethings up, and he won't let it slide. As much as he likes to pretend, he really does care about the people close to him, and he enjoyed your (less annoying than everyone else's) visits.

He managed to corner you on one of your worst days. You were bleeding so much you were honestly concerned for your health and worried if this was normal. There was absolutely no way Leona wouldn't notice with his sense of smell. And he did notice.

You could see a slight shift in his expression from anger to concern the second he smelt blood on you. And cornered in that empty hallway, you gave in and told him everything about being trans.

Honestly Leona couldn't care less about it, he was more concerned about your physical state. Please don't throw up in the school hallway. "So what, I don't care how you were born. You look like shit and that's what's concerning ."

He dragged you down to the garden to nap with him, because when you're on your period, napping is all you can do to make yourself feel better, and even made Ruggie run and get you some chocolate and ibuprofen from the nurse. He could tell from Leona's stare that he shouldn't ask.

After that Leona became more protective of you, not because he sees you as weak or sees you as a woman, but because he's genuinely concerned for you and how you're feeling after how miserable you looked when he found out (although he doesn't show it). If anyone tried to make you upset, he'd be right there by your side (no one in their right mind would fight with Leona) and whether you decide to come out in school or not, Leona has your back.

Azul Ashengrotto

Listen, Azul gets it. he's insecure, he doesn't like his body and got bullied for it for most of his life. He can level with you about how your feeling and will always awkwardly be there if you need him. All it really took for the two of you to get closer was to see each other on a similar level.

Honestly, you knew something had been up when the Leech twins invited you to go swimming with them. I mean who would agree to that? It was you, you agreed because you decided it was finally time you got closer to the octo trio. There was one problem though.

You only had swim trunks and a shirt, which knowing how water works, would only stick to your chest the second you got wet. Why did you agree to this again? So while the two eels swam off into the water with you giving a promise to "join them later" you sat on the beach trying to figure out exactly what you were going to do.

You couldn't see him, but you heard Azul approach you from behind and sit down next to you. His face saddened when you opened up to him about being afraid to go into the water because you "didn't like your body". At that moment he knew exactly how you felt, but his attempts at comforting made it clear that he didn't exactly know your situation.

After you explained yo could see his face flush red, but he made an attempt at comforting you. He stood up and took your hand, pulling you up with him. He slowly walked the two of you into the water, only up to your ankles though. "Don't worry, no one here is going to judge you. I know it's hard but you can do it."

Neither the tweels or Azul made any comments about you or your body. After you saw Azul whispering to them, Floyd even made some comments about how it was "just us guys" and Jade referred to your day as a "boy's day out".

After this, not only did you have Azul behind you, you also had some very intimidating eels to support you. Azul would make sure no one would talk bad about you. Anyone that did ended up getting roped into a contract with him. While life may be hard this way, you'd always have the octo trio there for you.

Kalim Al-Asim

As usual, Kalim was throwing a massive party at the dorm, and although you're not very fond of parties, you went for Kalim. He was honestly so happy you came, he loves seeing you honestly, and you stuck to his side for most of it.

Walking around with him had unfortunately made things slightly worse for you, Kalim was extroverted after all and everyone wanted to talk to the host of the party. You had received many, not ill intended, comments from people ranging from "I didn't know they let girls into NRC" and "is this your new girlfriend Kalim?". While these people didn't mean any harm, only asking innocent questions, they cut deep. Near the end of the part you ended up walking off and into Kalim's dorm room.

A little while later, Kalim came in, he knew you would be in there after all. He sat down next you on the bed with a concerned look and asked if you were okay. Obviously you weren't and right there, in Kalim's arms, you broke down and told him everything, how you were trans and how that comments were so hard for you. he didn't say anything, only held onto you until you were done.

Once you finished crying, he hugged you tightly and ran off. He came back a few minutes later with some water and snacks. After you gulped down a bottle of water, he held you close again. He gave small assuring rubs to your shoulder and watched some youtube videos with you to try and make you feel better. For once, kalim wasn't so talkative, and you appreciated that.

After that incident you had never once been misgendered at scarabia again. Kalim had made it clear to everyone in the dorm that you were a man and nothing else, after all Kalim is one of the best friends a person could ask for. "I want you to know that to me and everyone at scarabia that you are the bravest man, and we all appreciate having you here. you deserve to be here."

Vil Schoenheit

He wanted you to be in a photoshoot. That was it, that was what made everything around you crumble. He wanted to measure you, put on makeup, take photos and it was all to much.

Apparently he wanted you in the photoshoot because of your "naturally pretty face" and it was just too much to deal with. you stood in the dressing room looking at yourself in the mirror, your mind pointing out every little detail that was "too feminine" and tears filled your eyes.

And that's when he walked in. THE Vil Schoenheit had just walked in on you crying before a photoshoot. He didn't look angry at you however, more concerned. He walked over to you and took your face in his hands. While he did fuss over your ruined makeup a bit, he was more pressing you into telling him what was wrong. were you overstimulated? Were the clothes uncomfortable? Were the lights too bright?

You broke down in the man's arms and while he was hesitant about smearing your makeup on his clothes, he relented and held you. You were able to tell him what was wrong through al of your cries and you could hear him call out something to one of the workers. Eventually you were given a water bottle and calmed down.

Vil sat there assuring you that these "feminine things" didn't make you any less of a man and that if anything needed to be changed to let him know. I mean did you really think Vil "fuck gender roles" Sheonheit would really judge you for this?

After this he found some more fitting clothes for you and made sure you were on comfortable whether on set or with him casually. He was honestly the best person to go to when struggling. He always helps you based on what would look more masculine on you and he wouldn't ever let anyone make fun of you. "How you look or what you wear does not affect you or your gender. To me and to everyone here, you are a man."

Idia Shroud

Now how in the word did this happen? how could Idia Shroud, the boy who stays in his room all the time, figure out you were trans? Well it's a bit of an awkward situation. Ortho had invited you over to their dorm for a sleepover because he wanted his big brother to get out there and start talking to people , other than the ones on his computer (much to Idia's disagreement). Honestly the three of you had an awesome time playing video games and hanging out, even if it took time for Idia to warm up to having you there.

That was until it came time for bed. Knowing Idia he probably would have preferred to stay up until the sun came up, but you and Ortho definitely weren't doing that. When you changed you had put on pajama pants, a tank top, and a hoodie. You had to take off your binder because obviously you can't sleep with it on (or at least you shouldn't be).

You honestly thought you would have been fine, but through the night it had ended up getting hotter, most likely due to the two boys beside you with literal fire hair. You guessed it would have been fine taking off your hoodie as long as you woke up before the two of them to put it back on. But you didn't, in fact you woke up to Idia staring at you. When you woke up you couldn't tell what was wrong until you remembered you weren't wearing your hoodie or a binder. You quickly sat up and threw your hoodie back on, muttering a small apology. you could hear him give one too, but it was quiet,

After you had left you ended up messaging Idia about the situation, and he actually ended up being surprisingly cool about the whole "being trans thing". I mean he's on the internet 24/7 so it isn't surprising that he would know about it. He even apologized about the staring and said that he didn't "mean to be a pervert" and was just caught of guard which made you laugh a bit.

While Idia isn't the most confrontational person (Ortho however is(some people found out the hard way)) he's always there to give you support and as he said "Honestly how you were born doesn't matter. You're a chill person now and that's all I care about."

Malleus Draconia

Just like Leona and other beastmen, fae like Malleus have a heightened sense of smell, but unlike Leona, you didn't know that.

When you had woken up that morning to the usual monthly discomfort, you knew you'd be having the worst time of your life. You somehow managed to drag yourself out of bed and put on your regular clothes along with a pad (for some reason Sam has them in stock in the shop, you have no idea why) and made your way to class.

Classes that day were miserable, but you pushed your way through it despite everything. Once you had finished your classes for the day, Malleus had approached you to ask if you wanted to spend time together. He stopped himself and looked down at you with his usual "disappointed but also concerned" face and asked if you were alright, being very vague about it.

You did the usual lie of saying you were fine, but as if whatever gods there are in this universe hat you with a burning passion, you were hit with the worst set of cramps imaginable. Holding your waist you tried to assure Malleus wasn't having it.

He picked you up like you weighed basically nothing and with one flash of light you found yourself back in your dorm room, which was a bit of an embarrassing mess due to both grim being grim and you panicking with your sudden "situation". Malleus didn't seem to mind as he set you down on your bed and sat next to you, that same look of concern still on his face.

There in your room you told Malleus about what was going on and why you were bleeding so much. You could see him relax knowing you weren't in danger and that this was just a natural thing. You may or may not have had to explain the concept of a period to Malleus because let's be honest he's clueless.

After that he brought you some food and medicine to try and help, but once again he's clueless. You appreciated the effort though. He stayed there for the entire night making sure you were okay and according to him "To me it does not matter how you were born and how you are physically. To me, you are a man, and a gentle, kind, brave, and helpful one at that."

While life may throw many obstacels your way, Malleus assures you that you are perfect the way you are and that he is always there for you.

I'm not sure if I like Idia and Malleus's parts because I need go to bed lol, ty for reading and have a nice day.

[grapejuicebrat]

my worst

PAIRING: bbf!rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY: the more you try to fix him, the more you make it worse.

WORD COUNT: 1380

NOTES: based on this.

my masterlist

maybe it was a bad idea. maybe he was a bad idea.

maybe fucking your brother’s best friend wasn’t such a good idea. maybe falling in love with him wasn’t a good idea either. letting rafe ruin your life wasn’t a good idea but at the end of the day you loved him and trusted him. rafe was everything to you.

he was your protector and your lover. someone who could hide you from the rest of the world, who would hug you and tell you that everything will be okay and you would believe him without a doubt. because you were sure - rafe loved you. and you loved rafe.

actually it was something you wanted to believe in. that your secret relationship were not so fucked up from the very beginning. you closed your eyes when rafe was stalking you and gaslighting. didn’t hear anything when rafe told you to stop talking to your friends. didn’t say anything when you saw rafe snorting a line. because he’s a man, he is smarter than you. you don’t get to decide anything for him.

and now, three years later you were ready to write a letter to rafe. of course you could call him or text him but it wasn’t the same. you wanted to imagine how rafe would sit in his royal bedroom looking at this letter, rereading every word. remembering how you said every damn thing years ago. how you begged him to quit doing drugs. how you begged him to be a family with you. and he just shrugged, not believing that it was something he wanted to have.

and now rafe would give everything so he could just have you in his arms again.

“hey, rafe.

how are you doing? i want to believe that everything is okay. i asked topper a few times about you but he refuses even saying your name. and honestly i don’t judge him. i don’t have a right to judge me, you know? actually i was surprised that he didn’t stop talking to me after he found about our thing. but that’s not the point why i am writing this letter. don’t worry.

i had a lot of time to think. and you know what? finally i have some brave to tell you those things and finally let you go. i don’t know if you have someone beside you, and i tried my best not to reach out for you and don’t ask somebody about your love life. you know, just want to respect you and your private life because now i have no right to ask you about this since we are nobody to each other.

(and no, i can’t say that we are still friends. because we are not)

i wasn't crazy falling hard for you.

i’m used to liars, used to men using me, but you know what I'm not used to? you. you’re a different whole kind of pain. you're the type of pain that rips my vocal chords that I can't even scream. you're the type to dry my tears that 1 can't even cry.you’re the type that when I feel the slightest content, your memory stabs me in the heart. so yah, I'll take the liars, the manipulators, those men who objectify me over you because you... you made me love you with every intention of destroying the foundation i walk on just to watch me fall and stumble trying to come out of this alive.

I wish I could fix everything people broke in you. I wish I could erase every person who came into your life and left holes in your heart. I wish there was a way for me to rewind your past and erase every painful memory that made your life a little darker. I wish I had the power to go inside your heart and bring it back to what it used to be.I wish there was a way to go inside your heart and make it brave again. I wish I could just cleanse your heart and rid it of all the mess, all the chaos and all the heartbreaks. I wish I could show you the kind of love you've been missing but Rafe I've learned that love doesn't work that way and healing doesn't happen unless you feel it deep inside your soul.I learned that another human being can't tell you how you should feel or who you should love or what kind of heart you should have.

Love is the only force you can't fight even if you know you're going to lose and I wish I had the power to fight with you but darling that's one battle you're going to have to fight on your own. Because I'm also still healing. I'm still working on myself.

I'm still trying to bring my old heart back. And I'm still trying to find a way to fix everything people broke in me. I'm still trying to heal the wounds inside my heart. I'm still trying to be brave again. To trust again. To love again.And sometimes I wish there was a way for me to stay without losing myself. Sometimes I wish my journey was simple and linear so I can easily turn a blind eye to reality. To the facts that I know too well. To the struggles that I'm still trying to get through.But here I am, still trying to mend the broken pieces. Still trying to make sense of my journey and still very cautious because I'm not ready to break my own heart again.Because darling I've learned that just like can't force you to change your heart or the way you love, I can't force mine to change either. I've learned that if I can't help you heal, I have to let you go. I've learned that I need to heal myself first.

In 20 years, when my daughter asks me who my first love was, I'll think of you.

I will think of nights spent talking until the sun came up. I will think of the way your smile lit up my heart. I will think of the lessons you taught me, both before and after your broke my heart.

And I will look down at my daughter and tell her your name, I'll tell her how much I loved you, how dangerous it is to love somebody that much, how I had to learn to put myself back together again once you left.

I could tell her this funny story when I fell in love with my stalker. And how you stole my panties all the time. You thought I didn’t notice? Silly you. I just didn’t want this to end. I guess I always liked you. And I was attracted to you. I confess I’ve already been a little bit fucked up. That’s why everything was good at first.

Someday we will forget all about this. I will forget how you looked at me and I will stop dreaming about you every single night, wishing for you to come back. You will forget the way I laughed at every little thing you said and how I was different; happier, with you. We will be too far away from each other and we will have forgotten everything.

Someday, what we had wouldn't matter anymore, and I will never cry for you again.

But for now, I hope i’ll meet in any other life where we would be happy. And we’ll have a family of our own home. Like we’ve dreamed. But I don’t know, maybe it was just my dream and you didn’t want all of this. Sorry, if I said anything harmful.

We were never meant for each other. But I'm glad that even for a sheer moment It felt like we were.

But you made a mistake in your letter. Maybe you were meant to be. You and Rafe met in a wrong time. Right place.

i think i’ll rewrite it but anyways i hope you liked it! share your thoughts and add share your asks to my inbox i’ll gladly answer to them!

if you would like to be added to my taglist leave a comment or let me know by sending me in my ask!

oh and let me know if you want me to write more about their relationship before the break up!

taglist: @ivy-34

[shuenkio]

⇝Youtiful | enhypen OT7

Genre: Fluff, insecurities, self esteem.

Paring: enhypen x male!reader.

Cw:self-esteem, insecurities.

Inspired by Youtiful by Skz.

[Heeseung]

He's the type who doesn't like seeing you beat yourself down, doubting yourself, and not believing in yourself. He knows that you are truly beautiful the way you are, and the idea of insecurities infuriates him. When you claim that you're ugly, after he tries to get you to remove your mask for a picture, he becomes angry, but in a positive way, He keeps arguing with you until you realize that you truly are beautiful.

"If you say that one more time, I'm going to shut you up with my lips and won't let go until you stop denying it. I don't care if we're friends"

[Jay]

He's the type of friend who loves it when people are simply enjoying themselves, not caring about what others think. He hates the mindset of being not good enough and doesn't like when you overthink too much about others' opinions. Back in the day, he gave you free therapy when you bring yourself down. One time, while grabbing coffee, he overheard a group of young girls badmouthing and body-shaming you as being "too skinny." He instantly stood up for you and fired back at them, risking his career in the process. As a result they're leave the coffee shop, embarrassing.

"M/N next time tell me when these things happen to you, I'm sure I'll ripped them apart, Alright?"

[Jake]

He's one of the few people who constantly tells you that you're pretty and handsome, almost every day by text, when he's holding his phone. He hates seeing you stressed out over your study or overthinking about everything, regardless of how minor it may be. While scrolling through his phone one morning, he sees your social media share, which joked about you being a "fail lab experiment," somewhat dramatic and playful in tone, but still he decides to surprise you when he sees you in person. Holding a small bouquet of flowers, he approaches you with a grin.

"If no one dating you, choose me! I'll love you like there's no tomorrow even at your worst deal?"

[Sunghoon]

He is the type who prefers to listen to your concerns rather than offer his own opinion. However, even though he's an introvert, he has a soft spot for you and will always cheer you up when you're feeling down or ugly. Your relationship is like Tom and Jerry in a sense, with constant sparring and bantering, but in the end, you can't go on without missing each other's company.

"I saw your diary M/N! stop writing stupid things about yourself being imperfect or I'm gonna rizz you up for real"

[Sunoo]

He's the type of best friend who becomes sulky and upset whenever someone says something negative about you. You said that it was okay and that you didn't mind, but he was not having it. He hated it with a passion when people spoke ill about you. If the laws were lenient, there would be several people at funerals right now. People have their own ups and downs just like you, but he's there for you when you need him on your bad days. His favorite thing to do with you was to let you rest on his lap.

"I'm always free for you M/N don't be afraid to stand out of your comfort zone and come to me, I'm more than happy to listen to your concern"

[Jungwon]

Likewise, he is the type who gets irritated when you self-deprecate. You may not talk much about this sort of thing, but he can feel your insecurities deep down. He wants you to feel confident and fulfilled, and to never talk down to yourself in any way. All he want from you was to feel confident about yourself, loving your own body and live the fullest.

"Repeat after me ×2 one more time, i. Am. Yep-peo and chal-saeg-gyeo-seo! Pretty and handsome!!"

[Ni-Ki]

It may seem like he tries to pretend that he doesn't care about you, but deep down, he truly cares deeply. No one likes their low self-esteem, and the same goes for him. If he could, he would love to grab your face and shut you up with a kiss, or show you his affection through his clingy gestures, to convey his love for you without the need for words. He loves you as you are.

"You know the moment what i would do if i see yourself like this right? So try to avoid it or something is coming for ya M/N"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ please do not copy my works.

[thezombieprostitute]

Panic Attack - Part 2

Summary: Your ex decides he needs to talk to you. Your friend, Walter Marshall, has other ideas.

A/N: Reader is plus sized. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: Abusive ex, Implied violence, Panic attack. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 1

It's been a few months since your panic attack that introduced you to Walter. Not wanting to appear too needy you limited yourself to just an occasional check-in text every week. Walter would always gently guide the texts into a conversation about your shared interests and the two of you really got to talking.

Sometimes, after chatting, you would cry from relief. You're not scaring him away. He doesn't downplay your interests as “childish” or “immature” like Bryce, your ex, always did. He was polite, even funny, about disagreements in canon. He really helped you feel safe talking about what you like. You weren't used to that.

You were feeling pretty good about yourself overall and it really helped you get through some rough days.

But nothing could help you prepare for Ransom showing up at the bookstore where you work. Ransom and Bryce had been friends forever. If he was here, Bryce was likely nearby. You try to head to the back office but you hear Ransom calling your name. Your manager has been on everyone about not ignoring potential patrons so you take a deep breath and face him.

“Mr. Drysdale,” you nod. “How can I help you today?”

“Oh good,” he smiles, mockingly, “you remember your place.” You take another breath to steady yourself. “Believe me, this isn't my first choice either. Bryce needs to talk to you but due to legal reasons, he needs an intermediary.”

“I have no interest in talking to him,” you reply calmly.

“Yeah, the restraining order made that clear. Still can't believe you got that. It's not like he ever actually hit you or anything,” Ransom scoffs. You struggle to control your breathing, fighting the tears. “Anyways, he's looking at being cut out of the will. But since his father always liked you, he figured you showing up with him to the old man's birthday party would help him secure his place.”

“No,” you reply simply. The shorter, more concise an answer you can give, the better.

“I'd reconsider,” Ransom growls. “The lengths someone like Bryce will go to ensure he's in the will? I could see him doing some...bad things.”

“His relationship with his father is not my problem,” you reply. “Now please, either purchase a book or leave.”

Ransom snorts, “I'm not buying this trash. But don't say I didn't warn you.” He turns and heads out.

You almost running to the break room, tears pouring down your face. You want to call Walter, ask him to help you calm down, but he's a police officer. No doubt he has more important things to take care of. You'll wait for tonight, your usual texting/call time.

Walter's phone starts chiming with the ringtone he has reserved for you.

“Hello, Sugar,” he answers with a smile.

“W-W-Walter,” you stutter, making him frown. “He-he's here. Bryce. He's, he's outside my door. Please help.” You're whispering into the phone and he can barely make out what you're saying but it's enough for him. Especially with the loud banging in the background that he can only assume is your ex trying to force his way into your apartment.

“I'm on my way,” Walter assures. His voice is calm, concealing the burning rage he's feeling. As he keeps talking to you as he gestures for a couple other officers to follow him. “Take a breath for me, Sugar,” he gently orders you over the phone. He hears your breath shaking and he continues, “grab the pepper spray and lock yourself into a room further into your apartment. Wait for me to signal the all-clear. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Walter.” You hang up and get moving. The panic is telling you to shut down. Just accept the abuse. The only way to get Bryce to stop hurting you is to let him tire himself out. But you've been working so hard on getting over these kinds of stress responses. He doesn't own your life any more. You do.

Doing your best to ignore his yells of “open the damn door” you grab the pepper spray out of your purse. The only room in your apartment with a lock is the bathroom so you head in there, locking the door and pushing the bathmat underneath to make it a little more difficult to open.

You can still hear the banging and, while you can't make out the words, you can still hear Bryce's yelling. You don't realize you've started rocking. You brain is in panic mode and you can't think past the impending pain. The punches to your stomach, your arms, places where you could hide the bruises. The promises of worse if you ever told.

The commotion outside suddenly gets louder and you curl up into the fetal position, covering your ears. You're not sure how long you stay like that, waiting for the pain.

There's a gentle knock at the bathroom door and you squeak in fear. “Sugar?” Walter's voice gently calls through the door. “Sugar? Are you in there? Are you okay?”

You lift your head a little, “Walter?” Your voice is barely above a whisper but he breathes a sigh of relief at hearing you.

“Yeah, Sugar, it's me. Can you open the door for me?”

“Bryce?”

“He's in handcuffs in a squad car outside. It's just you and me in the apartment.”

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, you get up, remove the bathmat and unlock the door. Walter wants to open it immediately but it has to be you who opens it. He doesn't want to scare you worse than you've already been tonight. You crack the door open and peek out. You see Walter's familiar broad frame, curly hair and beard, concerned blue eyes and open the door the rest of the way. You throw yourself at him, bringing him into a hug that he's only too happy to return. Your tears are flowing freely but from relief instead of fear.

He gently pats your head as he holds you, whispering to you about how brave, how smart, how quick you were with everything. He never stops reassuring you, even when your crying is too loud to hear him. His arms feel so safe, his voice so calming. It isn't long before you've calmed enough to gently pull away and thank him.

“If you're willing,” he starts, “I'll stay here and sleep on your couch.”

You shake your head, “I don't feel safe here right now. He knows where I live, that means his friends do. I...I don't want to be here for a while.”

Walter nods, “if you're up for it, you can pack a bag and stay at my place. And no,” he stops you before you can say anything, “it won't be a bother. At all.”

You hug him as more tears of relief pour out. “Thank you, Walter.”

Part 1

Taglist: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @peyton-warren; @ronearoundblindly

[blushblushbear]

Scale, Seth and Haru husband headcanons pls?

ngl I think all 3 of these dudes would have a weird adjustment period to being husbands, though frankly I think Scale would maybe have the easiest time (well-- MAYBE Haru, but okay---)

Scale

I think the biggest change from boyfriend to husband is going to be him questioning if he should continue his assassin work

He's not going to set down his knives quickly or lightly but like----

he has a spouse now

he doesn't want them becoming a widow/widower

OR EVEN WORSE GETTING CAUGHT UP IN HIS BUSINESS??

bruh, he would DIE

I highly doubt he'd actually end up quitting but there WOULD be some changes around here

for starters--- he has a better divide between his personal and professional life

This is maybe me watching too much venture bros but I really do like the idea of Scale adopting a sort of on the clock/off the clock mentality ("That's my business-- but we're not at the office right now, ya see")

also he gets WAY more protective

your home is probably laced with all kinds of booby traps

and he DEFINITELY makes you run drills

like fire drills but instead of fire it's enemy assassins

Aside from the stuff pertaining to his career, he's actually a very sweet and loving husband

Not necessarily a 'I made a home cooked meal in my apron' every night kind of loving but more a 'I stopped by that place you like and got us dinner' type

also def kind of nerdy husband but less about magic or dnd and more about weapons and armor (though don't get it twisted, he'll get down hard on some dnd)

lots of quality time whenever he's home

lots of texts when he's away

lots of cuddles on the couch and falling asleep in each others arms

he knows your favorites and brings flowers when he's been gone for a while

you're his home <3

and frankly he's very protective of that home

Seth

okay honestly

Seth is probably the one who has to step up to being a proper husband the most

at the start he's definitely bad at this whole 'being a good husband thing'

but all it takes it you getting visibly frustrated with him a handful of times and he realizes he needs to up his game

his life is REALLY different now, but if he gets to spend it with you it's worth it

and for what it's worth he's actually really good at apologies

and also good about being sincere about them too, it's not just fluff to get him out of trouble

he's also very protective of you but he's not as 'DECLARATION OF HIS UNDYING LOVE AND PROTECTION AGAINST THE LIGHT OF THE MOON' as Scale is about everything

also is actually really good at listening to you vent/share work drama

also always offers to send your annoying co-workers to hell

you say no but the offer still stands

is only really good at barbecue and baking so anything too far past that you're gonna have to order in or cook for the night

also I don't know if he'd suggest this first but if the subject of having date night comes up he's actually really really about date night

likes to take you somewhere nice or fun or both

also will try to convince you to adopt a hellhound

this will be a forever conversation in your marriage, just letting you know now

Haru

so look

I'm not saying Haru would ever cheat on you

actually far from it

BUT I WILL SAY that going from a long ass life time of tom catting around every night to a committed long-term monogamous relationship is going to be a major life change for ANYONE

including Haru

that being said that's actually kinks you worked out early in your relationship

I do get the sense that Haru low key misses his old life a bit, but knowing you has changed him too much and he could just--- never go back ya know??

and frankly he wouldn't want to

but again that's like--- also stuff that was dealt with during boyfriend stage

actually honestly, once you're committed to each other, he legit doesn't see you as anything other than his mate

married or not his attachment is the same honestly

marriage isn't JUST a human thing but it's more of a you thing that a Haru thing

as far as he's concerned you two are as good as married already

all though who could pass up a party to show you off and celebrate your union???

so yeah-- you'll have to bring it up, but Haru is down to marry you right away

so I think with Haru, YOU'RE going to have to change your life the most due to marriage

he's kind of the leader of a whole group of people

he's not going to make you come live with them, but you ARE gonna have to at least be next door

that's gonna be the biggest marriage hurdle depending on who you are

though if push comes to shove he is willing to find a successor and run away with you

but low key please don't make him do that cause his people need him and he loves them and also he'd feel guilty about it FOREVER haha

but yeah past that married Haru is not much different from boyfriend Haru except he's a little bit more clingy/up front about pda etc cause HEY that's his SPOUSE, he's allowed

he also does REALLY LOVE calling you his spouse in front of anyone and everyone as many times as he can

[fiapartridge]

🌊 will smith ur fav

i love u he's my fave boy ever

You saw him everywhere. Every newspaper, every post on Instagram, every poster strewn across stone walls haunted you with pictures of the man who could’ve been yours if you had just let him in.

“What’s happening, Y/N?” Will stood at your doorstep, his hands tucked away in the pockets of his black coat, the cold air engulfing his red nose in a hug. “Please, if something’s happening, you can tell me.”

You shook your head, your eyes willing themselves not to fill with tears. You hadn’t answered his calls, or texts, or emails, or DMs, or anything. You completely shut him out and he had no idea why the girl he was beginning to fall for was icing him out. You didn’t even give any warning signs. You just—stopped trying.

Truth be told, you saw the comments on Instagram. The comments left in your DMs and the way you had to private your account because you were tired of being compared to more beautiful girls, getting called a slut and a puck bunny, that you weren’t pretty enough for him. And a large part of you knew that that was true. He must be blind, right? Something must be wrong with his brain to look at you rather than the millions of prettier girls that walked across campus clad in his jersey and having no hesitation to tell him that they should be together.

Which brings us to the inevitable question: if the relationship was going so well, if you felt like you could trust him, like he could be the one, why the hell were you icing him out? 

You were embarrassed. You were embarrassed that their comments were getting to you, that they were true, and that if he saw them, maybe he’d think they were right. Because why was he with you? It just didn’t make sense—to anyone.

“This was a bad idea,” you whispered, hiding yourself under the hood of your hoodie, willing yourself not to look at him but rather the wooden floor beneath you. 

His brows pulled in. “Don’t say that.” He wanted to see you, to see that pretty perfect face he had grown to love so much, but you wouldn’t let him. You were scared that he’d see the millions of flaws you saw on yourself. His hands dipped out of his pockets, trying to pull your hands to his, but it was as if you were like water, slipping out of his fingers like they were the last thing on earth that you wanted to touch. “Baby, please. Please just look at me,” he pleaded. 

Your tears managed to escape as you sniffled, running the back of your hand against your wet nose and back into the expanse of your long sleeves. “I can’t do this. You shouldn’t be with me.”

You knew that this was the best thing to do, even if you hated every second of it. You knew Will was tearing himself apart right in front of you, but it was the best thing for him, too. No more you, no more hate comments, no more bad press. He could go back to how he was before you, the way things should’ve stayed.

“Just let me in, okay?” his eyes were red and this was like torture to you. You didn’t want to hurt him, which is exactly why you were doing this. You saw the way his shoulders slumped after every game, the way he closed himself off to the boys whenever you were near, the way the team side eyed you at every social event. You were the problem. And the only way to make the problem go away was to subtract the numbers. “You’re not telling me everything, I know that. We can work this out, baby. Come on.”

You bit your lip so hard you swore you drew blood. “I’m sorry.” And you knew your next words were gonna hurt the both of you, but you also knew that it was something both of you had to hear, no matter how badly it was gonna sting. “But I can’t do this. I don’t want to be with you, Will, and I think you should leave.”

He felt his heart beat out of his chest. There was no way you were saying that; not after everything that’s been going so well. Had he been imagining it? The laughter, the kisses, everything you told him—had it all been some sort of lie? He doubted everything, but at the same time, he knew you. You hated liars almost as much as you hated spiders. So why were you doing this? Why were you wrecking everything you two had created these past couple of months?

“Baby,” he stepped closer as you mirrored his movements, taking a step back and watching his hopeful spirit die. “Everything is nothing without you. You’ve gotta believe me. If there’s something happening you can tell me—you can tell me anything, okay?”

“I don’t want you anymore.”

[snail-squasher]

Stars-Aligning

'boys suck, and girls I've never tried' - chappell roan

word ct. - 1113

warnings - a small panic attack(?), mostly fluff, fem!reader is implied but anyone can read :)

You've never been one to have crushes. Sleepover gossip times would always make you pick at your skin for 5 minutes trying to remember all the boys in your grade so you can blurt a name out when asked who you like. But when you got into college something changed. Something that goes by the name of Kiyoko Shimizu. You first heard about her when in a group project with Yachi, she had suggested that Kiyoko tag along to the cafe meet up that you guys had planned - a simple 3rd person to keep conversation flowing so there’s no random awkward silence. 

Wrong; you were incredibly wrong. In the entire 2 hours you guys were there, you got 2 things done: writing your name and finding out Kiyoko was the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen and that the way her lips move when she talks is mesmerizing; maybe that’s why everything she said you completely agreed with - is this what your friends talk about at sleepovers? Is this what movie scenes are made from? Is this normal? 

Obviously you know what being gay meant, you’ve seen gay couples in movies and even around campus, so why was this the worst whiplash you’ve ever experienced? And why are you getting so nervous and sweating when she asks for your number? Why do you only let out a shaky - mousy - ‘yeah’ 

The only information you absorbed is that the prettiest girl you've ever seen is in your contacts and that she likes peaches and ice cream. There’s only one reasonable response to this information - type out 4 draft messages asking her to the local ice cream parlor. Who would know better how to ask her out on a completely platonic and friendly ice cream date? Yachi. 

You’ve never felt more awkward in your entire life; you could smell the tension before the conversion even started. “Well… I say just ask in the friendliest way possible… this one right there,” she points to the 2nd message, “seems like you're rambling a lot, and the one below that sounds like you're demanding she go.” Yachi explains - a little concerned by how concentrated you are after explaining how this is a ‘totally friendly and chill meet up because she seems cool’ for about 10 minutes. “Okay…so like… the last one? Or are the emojis too much?” “The last one is perfect, she actually texts with a lot of emojis too.” “Okay perfect…” both of you sit in silence for 20 seconds before you blurt “can you please send the message for me.” 

It was set, you're very casual friend hangout, was the next day at 2pm. Although the state of your room said that you were evacuating by 2pm tomorrow; clothes thrown from your closet had basically made it out of your room, forgotten t-shirts now seeing the light of day, even pants that you’ve been meaning to return to a friend had found its way onto the outfit roster. But after what felt like the zombie apocalypse, you put together an outfit that had one inspiration - Kiyoko Shimizu. 

It was just to seem cool right? To hope that she'll want to be good friends right? And maybe kiss? Do good friends do that? 

This was a bad idea. This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea you’ve ever had. Gripping the steering wheel so hard you make a mental reminder to call a mechanic and breathing so hard you reach for a non-existent inhaler. You’ve never had a worse timed star- aligning ever. You can see her in the window, occasionally glancing out the window waiting for any sign of you, but you’re too busy having second doubts because your gay awakening is waiting for a obviously, for sure, ‘no wonder Yachi was awkward’ date. You try to quickly regain yourself after seeing Kiyoko start to look down at her watch every 6 seconds. Checking your face in the mirror and fixing your hair in the shop’s window reflection, you finally open the doors and come face-to-face with the most attractive cause for your midlife crisis. You're not even 25.

“Hey, sorry I’m a little late, I was picking up my room a little and lost track of time,” well that's not a complete lie, you had folded about 4 shirts and then rethought your entire outfit and started from scratch. And then she did the smile, the little lift up that makes her beauty mark move 3 cm from its resting place, “It’s really no problem, just glad I wasn’t stood up.” Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god. Being stood up means a date. This is for sure a date. You're glad you didn’t over analyze but also panicking because you just processed what a lesbian is in the car you’ve had since 17.

“Yeah, sorry again, I didn’t mean to leave someone like you waiting,” are you actually stupid. ‘Someone like you?’ You’ve been homosexual for 5 minutes and already messed up. “Hope that’s a good thing,” she says sarcastically before walking up to order. “I’ll get the peach please, and what would you want?” She looks at you. She focuses on you. “I’ll just get the same thing” a smile. She smiles at you. “Sounds good, do you want to find a table while I pay?” “Oh you don’t have to pay f-” “No no, it’s okay.” You're starting to understand why your friends freak out when a guy offers to pay. 

“Okay- so- wait. He asked you to marry him after only seeing you?” you ask holding back a laugh, “Yes! I still give him a hard time for it too,” Kiyo - she insisted you call her that - was laughing telling you about her time in high school, while checking her watch, “Oh! It’s already late! Sorry for non-stop talking, I feel like that’s all I did.” You quickly try to recover as you both stand up and throw your trash away, “oh no it’s okay, I loved hearing about you.” After making it through the front doors, she turns to you and smiles before leaning in and giving a small kiss, “Well maybe you can tell me about you next time.” “Yeah! Of course,” you reply too quickly for you not to cringe when thinking about it later. She does the smile again, the same smile, “Make sure you text me when you get home… I’ll see you soon.” “Yeah of course, have a goodnight…” You watch as she walks away to her car before slowly sitting getting into your own. You're surprised the shop owners didn’t come running out after the excited scream you let out.

I hope you guys like it!!! the divider(s) is from @cafekitsune

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