#not that i think they should've stayed gold but :(

[naivety]

do we think scott misses his gold eyes :(

[thinkinonsense]

WICKED

old man!logan howlett x young fem!reader

cw: cheating, heavy flirting, smut, kinda dark

authors note: i have no idea what came over me and i cannot explain it. also! gif credit to the amazing n talented @silverskyeline <333

he never should've gone to the bar. never should've let you run your pretty mouth. most definitely never should've bought you that martini. every weekend he watches you seduce the men at the bar until one of them falls into your trap.

logan would scoff, mumbling something under his breath about how stupid that bastard must be. despite the fact that the only thing holding him back from your advances was the thick gold band on his finger, reminding him of where his loyalty should be.

"lovely seeing you here again, logan."

he loathed your wicked smile and how your voice sounded like rain fall. trying his best to avoid staring into the eye of the storm but your presence demanded to be seen. practically ripping his hazel gaze off the wooden table and over to that tiny dress you were wearing. dark navy tight against your skin in a way that could make any man sin.

"missed ya' last weekend." you purr. "where were you at?"

"home." he states, gruffly.

"that's boring. why were you at home?"

"wedding anniversary."

the words made your tummy flip with excitement. you didn’t know much about logan outside of his favorite brands of alcohol, but you did know that he had a wife at home. he never mentioned her by name. sometimes, she would call the bar if it was “too late” for him to be out but other than that, she was a ghost.

“cute. you should bring her here one weekend.” you propose, almost making logan choke on his whisky. “bet she would love to see where you run and hide at night.”

“it’s not her kinda scene.” he responds.

“aw, i’m sure we would be friends.”

“doubtful.”

“and why’s that?” you fake pout.

logan leans in close before whispering, “don’t think she would appreciate you beggin’ for her husband to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom every weekend.”

“i didn’t say we would stay friends.” you giggle, making his cock stir in his work pants. “also, the invite is still open if you miss fuckin’ someone younger.”

the second you are out of sight, off in the pool room next door annoying some other asshole, he groans under his breath. logan hated how well you read him. you knew he wanted you but you were smart enough to make him come crawling to you if he wanted to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him.

after a couple minutes, a few men left the room and logan got up to take their place. when he walked inside he saw it was empty except for you sitting in one of the chairs on your phone.

“glad you decided to join me.” you smile up at him.

logan ignores you instead going over to get a stick and start playing. you finish your martini and join him as he sets up the balls. catching you off guard, he tosses you a stick too.

“if i win, you leave me alone for good.” he huffs in your face.

“sure but what do i get when i win?” you smirk.

logan ignores your question and growls, “ladies first.”

it's dead silent as you bend over the pool table to line your stick up to the diamond. logan's far too busy staring at the wet spot on your light blue panties. he never admit it, even if you knew for sure that's where his eyes were. it wasn't until he lost sight of the spot that he realized you already took your shot.

"your turn, old man." you tease, moving out of his way.

the two of you go back and forth for a bit but you were growing tired of this game. instead you decided to make things even more interesting.

"so when i win, are you going to finally fuck me?" your bluntness always left logan speechless.

"you already know the answer to that, sweetheart." he replies, trying to focus before shooting.

"sure, blah, blah, blah, something wife." you mock with an eye roll that almost made logan chuckle. "but seriously? when was the last time you two had sex? you probably got cobwebs in there."

that got a small smirk out of him. one that you count as a win.

"it's just a band. it comes off, see?" you lean over and take the ring off of his finger, placing it on the table.

logan stared at it for too long. feeling the distance of his commitments. you turn his head towards you with a light hook on his grey bearded chin. the lust in his eyes told you that you had won.

"you know what else comes off that easily?" you whisper, lips inches from his. "my panties."

a good man would've walked away. a good man would've returned home to his wife. but logan wasn't a good man. never had been and never would be.

an animalistic urge fell over him, grabbing you with the ease of a rag doll and bending you over the pool table. the wedding band was inches from your parted lips, moaning prettily as logan spread you open with his thumbs and licked a wide strip up your cunt, burying his face in your arousal and letting it coat his beard until he could only taste you.

"f-fuck me." logan groans, pulling back to catch his breath. "taste better than i imagined."

"knew you wanted me." you smirk, feeling his middle finger circle your entrance before pushing in. a loud moan is pulled from your throat as he hits that spongey spot with ease.

"weren't lying 'bout being tight." logan marvels, watching the way you suck in his finger.

he attempts to push in his ring finger as well and you wish you could've seen his face while he struggle to get it in. quickly, you reach for the wedding ring next to you then grab his hand from inside you. fumbling to get the ring back on him before he questions you.

"what are you—"

"go on." you coax, looking back at him with dark eyes. "try it now."

logan shouldn't have been so turned on from the image of his wedding ring coated in your slick; but here he was watching it disappear and reappear inside of you.

"right—fuck! r-right there..." you pant, arching farther back to meet his thrusts.

"does it turn you on being a homewreaker?" logan asks, back up on his feet and nibbling at your ear. "knowing that you have a old married man fucking you with his wedding band on?"

"mhm..." you mumble against the table. he takes the opportunity to pick up his pace, feeling you clench down. "d-don't stop..."

within seconds, your gushing around his fingers and dripping down his hand. right when he pulled out of you, you turn around and push him back into one of the plush chairs to undo his belt. falling to your knees, you begin to stroke him, tracing his veins with your tongue and tapping the tip on it.

"always knew you had quite the mouth on ya', princess." he grunts with a fist full of your hair.

you smile, taking him all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat and the hairs at his base tickled your nose. logan was finding it harder and harder to control his animalistic urge while your gagging and drooling all over his lap. quickly, you release him with a pop and stand up to straddle him, lining him up to your entrance and sinking down slowly.

"shit, you're so fucking tight." he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

"only for you, logan." you whine, grinding down on him, rocking back and forth.

roughly, logan pulls the rest of your dress off of you, throwing it on the floor somewhere behind you. large hands touching you all over in ways you've only dreamt of. meanwhile, your attacking his neck like a madwoman. biting and marking him up like he's yours.

desperately, logan fucks up into you, needing more. his tip nudges that sweet spot within you, making you moan loudly in his ear, encouraging him to go faster. so focused on the squealing of your soaked pussy. he captures your lips, kissing you tenderly. you can feel his high approaching, twitching inside of you, and you needed to do one last thing before it hit him.

carefully you pull away, gripping his chin and pulling him face to face with you. his eyes are blown out with desire as he stares at you.

"tell me your mine, lo." you whisper against his lips.

logan can feel you clench tightly around him, waiting for him to give into you completely. he presses his thumb down on your button, moving in fast circles to get you there with him.

"f-fuck, i'm yours, baby." he moans, coating your walls with spurts of his release. "i'm yours."

"t-that's right." you moan, kissing him roughly as your high washes over you.

"you look so pretty like this." he coos, watching the pleasure run over you.

for a moment the two of you sit still, trying to catch your breath. logan's mind races, not meaning to cum inside of you but it's far too late now.

"lets keep this a secret between the two of us, huh?" he says while you play with his hand, mischievously. before he can notice, you pocket the ring.

"sure thing, baby." you reply. "i'll gladly be your little secret but have fun explaining those marks to the old ball and chain."

logan looks down at you and that wicked smile of yours, only to realize just how fucked he is.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A family thing

Written for the September pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog

Prompt: Anniversary

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Disabled Eddie; POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Implied sexual content; Domestic fluff; Found family

The sounds coming from the kitchen pull Wayne from his sleep much earlier than he'd like after a night shift. He lies awake for a while, cursing the government. Sure, they covered Eddie’s medical bills and bought them the new trailer, but would it have killed them to get one with thicker walls? He doesn't need to hear everything the boy gets up to. 

He's almost managed to drift off again when a clatter and a string of swear words make him shoot upright. He barrels out into the corridor that separates the living space from the bedrooms, almost colliding with Steve, who has just barged from Eddie’s room. His eyes are bleary, his hair a tousled mess. He's wearing boxers and a familiar guitar pick necklace, and that is it. 

“Ed?” Wayne asks, ignoring how Steve freezes at the sight of him. “What happened?” 

Eddie, on the kitchen floor in a heap of gangly limbs and fallen crutches, groans. “Wayne! You weren't supposed to wake up.” 

“Yeah, you're making that kinda hard,” Wayne mumbles, eyeing the shattered plates and spilled food on the ground. Toast and bacon and pancakes. There's something stuck in Eddie’s hair that looks like scrambled eggs. 

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, bridging the few steps into the kitchen and dropping into a crouch beside Eddie. Wayne stays where he is and watches. The way Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull him up, careful not to hurt him. How Eddie slings bony arms over Steve’s shoulders, fingers grazing the scars on the boy's back. 

“Why didn't you ask me for help?” Steve asks. The rising sun basks the kitchen in oranges and golds, and for a second, Wayne is overcome by the thought that he mustn't blink, or they'll vanish. “I could've-” 

“What, on this highest of holidays?” Eddie asks, gesturing dramatically as Steve lowers him into one of the kitchen chairs. “Have you no respect for tradition? It is my responsibility and my duty to do this alone.” 

Steve blinks, then looks over at Wayne. 

“Okay? I don't get it.” 

Eddie cackles, gently pushing him aside to beckon Wayne closer. 

“Happy Uncle's Day!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne grumbles, bending at the hip so that Eddie can hug him, but there's an annoying sting behind his eyes. For a moment all he can think is how close he came to losing all of this.

“What the fuck is Uncle's Day?” Steve asks. He's eyeing the calendar on the wall like he's expecting it to spout an extra holiday. 

Eddie scoffs. “Only the most important holiday of the year? You need to stay up to date on-” 

“When Ed was nine years old,” Wayne explains, making his way over to the coffee pot, “he came home one day, seething and spitting venom, ‘cause his teacher had them making Father's Day cards.” 

“Why would I be making that asshole a fucking card?” Eddie grumbles. A pink blush has erupted from the collar of his shirt, but Wayne isn’t sure if it's because of the childhood story or because of the way Steve has pulled out the chair next to his and is finger-combing bits of egg from his curls. “The only thing I should've given him is a kick in-” 

“That's exactly what he said back then,” Wayne says, pouring himself a cup and leaning against the counter. “So we came up with an idea.” 

Steve frowns at Eddie. “Uncle's Day?” 

Eddie beams. “The anniversary of the day Wayne took me in.”

“Dunno if took in is the right term,” Wayne hums around his first sip. “You pretty much let yourself in and refused to leave.” 

Eddie waves him off, as if to say that he won’t argue about the technicalities. Steve’s eyes, meanwhile, have grown large. 

“Wait,” he says. “That's today? Why didn’t- … I’m sorry, I had no idea.” 

Eddie cocks his head at him, smile bright and incredibly fond. It makes a familiar warmth spread behind Wayne’s collarbone, one that has nothing at all to do with the coffee. “Why would you be sorry?” 

Steve gestures awkwardly at the mess that is the kitchen. “This is a family thing. If you’d told me, I’d have left you alone.” 

Eddie laughs. On the tabletop, his fingers find Steve’s. 

“Exactly,” he says. “This is a family thing. You're right where you belong. Ain't he, Wayne?” 

Wayne regards them - two men littered in battle scars, leaning into each other in the hazy morning light - and thinks of a hurt little boy who was too scared to let anyone in. 

“Can't argue with that,” he says. 

Steve's face lights up as if he'd just invited him to spend Christmas morning. 

“I- … thank you,” he stutters, and Wayne gets a feeling that he, too, is still learning to let people in. “Let me clean this up, and then I'll make us new-” 

“Stevie,” Eddie says, and hooks one finger into the necklace to pull him back. His next words are a murmur against the shell of Steve's ear, so low Wayne almost misses them. “Maybe get dressed first, darling.” 

The last thing Wayne sees of Steve as he flees into Eddie’s room is the blush coloring his neck and shoulders. 

“Do you have to tease him like that?” he asks, starting to gather the broken plates off the ground. 

Eddie shrugs. “He can take it. I think that's a basic requirement for joining this family?”  

His eyes find Wayne's, searching for a reaction. 

“Ed,” he says, picking up the crutches and handing them over. “My only requirement ever was for you to be happy. I think your boy has long proven himself in that regard. Now, run over to the Mayfields and ask if we can borrow some eggs, yeah?” 

As Eddie bolts out with a blush matching Steve's, Wayne settles into the newly vacated chair, allowing himself a long sip of coffee and a content sigh. 

It's gonna be a good Uncle's Day. 

[remmys]

🎃 TFTOBER 2024 !!

Hey there!! I really wanted to participate in an October prompt list, but seeing as I've been really hooked on TF2 for this entire year, I figured it would be fun to do a TF2 themed list!!

If you participate, feel free to tag your posts w/ #tftober !!! I'd love to see what other people do <3 This list should be perfectly doable for any medium (art, writing, sfm, etc!)

Below the cut is a list of all the prompts with some extra flavor text/ideas! Things are kept vague in a typical drawing prompt fashion

DAY 1 - Main

Who's your main? Who do you play most often?

DAY 2 - Hats!

It's not called a glorified hat simulator for nothing! There's plenty of cosmetics at your fingertips in the game!

DAY 3 - Relationships

Everyone knows someone. Whether it's a family member, a friend, a lover, or even an arch nemesis!

DAY 4 - Pyrovision

Put on the goggles and take a look at things with a new perspective!

DAY 5 - Battlefield

Probably where a mercenary spends most of their time

DAY 6 - On Break

Battles don't rage on forever. You've gotta take a break eventually

DAY 7 - Offense

The front lines. The moving force

DAY 8 - Defense

The back lines. Makes sure nobody gets too far

DAY 9 - Support

Everything in between! Perhaps even the foundations of some teams

DAY 10 - Teamwork

It's not called TEAM Fortress for nothing, right?

DAY 11 - Fem Fortress

Happy Friday! Give some love to the girls!

DAY 12 - Free Space

Draw, write, or SFM to your heart's content! Do whatever you'd like!

DAY 13 - Respawn

Nobody stays dead.

DAY 14 - Capture the Flag

That briefcase isn't going to steal itself!

DAY 15 - Backstab

Should've checked behind you.

DAY 16 - Mann vs Machine

Guns and bullets or nuts and bolts? Who knows what could be running through those metallic minds...

DAY 17 - Expiration Date

Teleportation and bread. What else can I say?

DAY 18 - Headcannons

Think a little deeper. What do you just know has got to be true about the mercenaries?

DAY 19 - At home

Everyone comes from somewhere. Everyone has a home.

DAY 20 - Headshot

Looks like you stood a little bit too still.

DAY 21 - Alternate Universe

Emesis Blue? Lil' Pootis? A universe where the mercenaries are all alligators? The world is your oyster.

DAY 22 - Australium

A divine and valued substance rarer than gold

DAY 23 - Administrator

There's more to a war than just the fighters

DAY 24 - Pets

Some people have a soft spot for certain animals. Others choose to keep theirs around 24/7.

DAY 25 - Injury

An inevitability of war

DAY 26 - Control Points

A constant back and fourth

DAY 27 - Comics

Ink, panels, and pages. A story through words and pictures.

DAY 28 - Custom Class

Is nine really enough to cover everyone needed in a war? Probably not!

DAY 29 - Ubercharge

A miracle of medicine

DAY 30 - Sentry

Sometimes the best way to get good aim is to not be the one aiming

DAY 31 - Scream Fortress

Happy Halloween! Scream out to your heart's content and enjoy the spooks of the night!

[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 [eventually smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking ]

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

Chapter 1 - Trent. | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 12.5k

The first time Trent bought you a gift, it was for your birthday—years ago, when everything between you was still in that gray space. You couldn’t name it if you tried but it wasn’t friendship but it certainly wasn’t something else. It was subtle at first, the way things were changing. He wasn’t even supposed to come to your party. He had a match but he made the effort to drop by for a little while. He didn’t make a scene or grab attention; it wasn’t like him to do that. But there was something about the way he navigated through the crowd, like he was looking for someone in particular. You. When he found you, standing near the edge of the party, he smiled, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, because there was something he was holding back, something he didn’t know how to say.

“Hey, happy birthday, pretty girl,” he said. The nickname he’d called you for ages made your heart ache every time. He leaned in to hug you. It should've been quick, casual, nothing out of the ordinary. But the moment his arms were around you, you felt a warmth spread through your chest that only he made you feel.

“I didn’t think you were coming?” You smiled back at him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, glancing around at the crowd before dropping his gaze to you again. “I can’t stay long, but I, uh… I wanted to give you a little something on your actual birthday.” He smiled as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box.

“Oh…Thanks… that’s really sweet, T. What is this?” You stared at it for a second, a little surprised. It wasn’t awkward as much as it was charged. 

“Just something I saw and thought of you,” he said simply, though the weight of those words hung in the air. You blinked, taken aback.

“You think about me?” You asked. He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he smiled, almost shyly, and ran a hand over his hair. 

“Uh yeah,” he admitted earnestly, but almost embarrassed. He thought about you a lot and he could never tell you just how much, so his voice was soft. It made your heart skip in a way you hadn’t expected. There was a pause, the kind that felt heavy with everything unsaid between the two of you. Your fingers trembled a little as you opened the box. Inside was a necklace—delicate and beautiful, not over-the-top in looks but you knew the price tag was almost stupid. It was Van Clef, it was a gold little diamond butterfly and it just felt… right. It felt very you and Trent. Like something if you knew, it was extravagant but on the surface it looked like something so simple. It sparkled in the light, and you could immediately tell how much thought he had put into picking it.

“T… this is gorgeous,” you breathed out, lifting it out of the box to admire it closer.

“I’m glad you like it.” He watched you, his eyes softening. Without thinking, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a hug again. But this time, it was different—charged in a way that had never been there before. His arms circled around you, and you could feel the way he pulled you in tighter, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. You rested your head against his chest, the soft sound of his heartbeat steady in your ear, and the warmth of his body seeped into yours. It was the kind of hug that made the world fall away. You were vaguely aware of the party continuing on around you, the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses, but all of that seemed distant. All you could focus on was the way his hands rested on your lower back, the way his body fit perfectly against yours, and how easy it would be to stay like this. The hug lingered, far longer than what anyone could consider appropriate for two friends. You both knew it, but neither of you pulled away. It felt like you were both standing on the edge of something, something that was just waiting for one of you to acknowledge. But neither of you did. Instead, you stayed wrapped up in him, in that quiet moment that felt suspended in time. When you finally, reluctantly, pulled back, your eyes met his, and for a brief second, the space between you felt charged with all the words neither of you had the courage to say.

“Thank you, T,” you whispered, your voice soft but thick with something unspoken.  He smiled, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression—something deeper.

“You’re welcome, pretty girl, happy birthday.” Your fingers brushed against the necklace, still cradled in the box. You hadn’t even put it on yet, but already, it felt like it meant more than just a birthday gift. It felt like a secret, something that was just between the two of you. After he left that night, you went up to your room and immediately clasped the necklace around your neck. The weight of it was delicate but constant, a reminder of him. You wore it every day after that, like a piece of him was always with you, even if no one else knew what it meant. And in the days that followed, you caught yourself touching the necklace absentmindedly, like a reflex. Whenever someone asked about it, you’d smile and brush off the question, but inside, it felt like the necklace was tethered to a part of your heart that Trent had unknowingly claimed. You hadn’t yet figured out what it all meant, but every time you saw him after that, it was there—hanging between the two of you, unspoken but undeniable. It wasn’t just a necklace. It was a shift, a turning point, a moment where you could feel something deeper taking root. You wore it like a secret, but deep down, you knew the truth. You weren’t the only one thinking about him. Trent was thinking about you, too. More than he could ever say.  The necklace tethered you to him in ways you hadn’t yet fully realized. You wore it every day, and though no one else knew it was from him, he knew. It was like a private, silent confession, a symbol of something growing between you two, something neither of you had the courage to speak aloud. Even when you were with other guys—laughing with them, holding their hand, even kissing them—Trent would notice the necklace hanging against your skin. It was a quiet, painful reminder that no matter how close anyone else got, you were still wearing something of his. His. Trent winced every time he saw it. The sight of you with someone else, another guy’s arm draped around you, it hurt more than he liked to admit. But it was the necklace, his necklace, that held his attention, keeping him tethered to you despite the distance he tried to keep. It killed him to see you with them, laughing, kissing, as if they had some claim over you. And yet, there was that small, irrational part of him that found solace in the fact that, even in those moments, you still wore something he had given you. 

That night, the night of your birthday, the hug—the way your body had pressed against his—was terrifying to Trent. The way your soft scent of cedarwood and violets lingered on his clothes long after you let go, the way your hands had touched him with that familiar warmth, all of it burned into his memory. He had hugged you countless times before, but this time was different. This time, it felt like you fit perfectly into him, like his body had been waiting for yours all along. And your laugh…  god, the way it sent him over the edge. That night, it was like his walls were crumbling, every instinct in him screaming that this was more than friendship, more than some passing crush. It was deeper, more consuming than he could have ever imagined. Suddenly, the idea of you and him wasn’t just some distant dream. It was real. He was completely attached to you now, and that terrified him more than anything. But what was he supposed to do? Jack was his best friend. Jack… your older brother. Jack… his best friend since primary school. Trent couldn’t betray him like that. He couldn’t act on these feelings, no matter how much he wanted to. He shouldn’t have been so drawn to you, but every time you were near, it was impossible to ignore the pull between you. So he kept his distance as best he could, leaving you tied solely by a sentimental gift.  He continued to see other girls, hoping it would distract him, help him forget. But nothing worked. Every time he kissed another girl, held another girl’s hand, there was a hollowness in his chest because none of them were you. They didn’t laugh like you, didn’t look at him the way you did, and they certainly didn’t smell like the Byredo al d'Afrique. Even as he pretended to move on, the memory of that hug—the way your body had fit so perfectly against his—haunted him. It was no longer just a harmless crush. He was in deep. And he didn’t know how to stop it. And the necklace, the first of many gifts that followed it, sitting atop your decalogue every day was just rubbing salt in the wound because no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, Trent knew the truth. He wanted you. He was completely, undeniably attached. And that terrified him more than anything else. 

This year, It had been one of those birthdays you didn’t want to celebrate. The boy you’d been seeing had ended things, and you were still licking your wounds from the whole ordeal. Despite your reluctance, your best friend Layla and your brother, Jack had insisted on throwing you a party at the house. The decorations were beautiful, and your friends had shown up, making it as lively as it could be. But no matter how much you smiled, how many ‘thank yous’ you muttered, there was a hole in your chest that only one person could fill.

Trent. 

Your brother’s best friend—who, at this point, was just that. A best friend of your brother. Nothing more to you. Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. Trent had been away for a match, he always was around your birthday so you hadn’t expected to see him at all tonight, but still, a part of you couldn’t help but pout as you realized he hadn’t even texted. He always texted. If he was away. He always made an effort. No matter where he was. It stung more than you wanted to admit. The night dragged on, drinks were poured, and laughter filled the air, but your mind was stuck on the absence of that one text message. You were lost in thought when you suddenly heard Layla’s voice, sharp and breathless, cut through the chatter.

"Oh my fucking God," she muttered, her eyes wide, fixed on something outside. Her hand gripped your arm tightly. You frowned at her, confused, but followed her gaze to the window. That’s when you saw him. 

Trent.

He was stepping out of a sleek Mercedes G-Wagon, a bow—an actual bow—wrapped around the top of the car like something out of a commercial. Your heart stopped, your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, you didn’t register the car, didn’t understand what it meant. All you could see was him.  He looked impossibly good, dressed in all black, his usual confidence radiating off him as he made his way up the driveway toward the house. Your mouth fell open, and you barely noticed the laughter that erupted around you. Jack and Trent’s friend Noah let out a booming laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Trent, you’re tapped," Noah chuckled, clearly amused. Jack stood frozen for a second, staring out the window with his arms crossed. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me." He shook his head slowly, mumbling under his breath, Your heart was in your throat, pounding loudly in your ears. You felt like the whole world had slowed down as you watched Trent approach. Your eyes hadn’t left him, too stunned to even react properly. The car, the bow, all of it started to sink in, but none of that mattered as much as the sight of him standing at the front door, about to walk in. He had messaged you. Not with words on your phone, but with something far more impossible to ignore. Layla squealed with excitement, grabbing you in a tight hug, her energy infectious as she bounced on her toes. You were still in disbelief at the sheer grandiosity of the gift, staring out at the car parked outside with its oversized bow. But despite your shock, it seemed like everyone around you had expected something like this—teasing aside, they weren’t that surprised. Layla leaned in close, her voice dropping into a sing-song whisper.

“He loves you,” she teased, drawing out the word with a knowing smirk. You shook your head quickly, a small laugh escaping you.

“No, he does not,” you said, trying to brush off the idea. You wished he did, but in your mind, that was far from reality. You were just Jack’s little sister, nothing more. 

“He’s just being nice.” Out loud, you were casual. Your tone was a little firmer, as if trying to convince yourself as much as her.  Layla grinned, nudging you with her elbow.

 “I wish boys were ‘nice’ like that to me.” She giggled. Meanwhile, Jack was dapping up Trent, shaking his head in disbelief but with a smile.

"You’re fucking insane, bro," Jack said, his voice carrying a mix of awe and amusement. "But… nice of you. She hadn’t been happy all night ‘til you showed up." Trent flicked his eyes to you, catching the beaming smile that had spread across your face. He smiled softly, a hint of pride tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew it wasn’t the car that had lifted your spirits. It was the fact that he’d made the effort to be here, to make sure your birthday wasn’t just another forgettable night. You walked over to him again, the warmth in your chest now overwhelming. You hugged him tightly, your arms lingering around his neck longer than they should have, his hands slipping lower than they should have. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “But I can’t keep something like this, T.” You cooed. He brushed off your words with a casual wave of his hand. 

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s yours, pretty girl. It’s in your name as well so...”  He spoke softly and so you nodded, still overwhelmed by the gesture.

“Thank you,” you repeated, your voice softer this time. Then, in a moment of quiet vulnerability, you leaned in closer. “The car’s amazing, T, but I’m just happy you’re here. I’m so happy to see you.” You whispered. Trent’s smile softened as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“That’s all I wanted,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You happy.” In that moment, standing so close to him, everything else—the party, the noise, the teasing—faded away. All that mattered was him and the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room. As the night stretched on, the earlier excitement of Trent’s arrival slowly blurred into the haze of laughter, drinks, and celebration with everyone. But naturally, as you always seemed to, you found yourself tucked into a cozy corner with him, your head buzzing with the warmth of alcohol and his presence. The two of you were caught in that space where the party seemed distant, as though the music, chatter, and clinking glasses belonged to another world. Here, in this little bubble, it was just you and Trent, giggling over some joke neither of you could remember anymore.  His hand rested on your waist, the touch light but electric, sending little shocks of awareness through you. You didn’t want him to move, didn’t want the moment to end. Each time you laughed, you leaned into him a little more, the casual way his fingers stayed on your side feeling like the most natural thing in the world. You both pretended like you didn’t know what you were doing—that the long looks, the lingering touches, and the proximity weren’t flirting. But they were, and you both knew it, even if neither of you was brave enough to say it out loud. You were swaying slightly, both of you tipsy, your heads fuzzy from the night’s drinks. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you, mingling with the scent of the air that breezed in from the nearby window. Your stomach fluttered with every laugh, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much, and all the while, his hand stayed at your waist, like an anchor keeping you steady. Then, someone from the party stumbled past, bumping into you and sending you careening into Trent’s chest. For a moment, everything slowed. His arms instinctively wrapped around you to steady you, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You looked up at him, your face mere centimeters from his, and time seemed to freeze.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and gentle, as though the world outside this corner didn’t exist. You nodded, biting your lip.

 “Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered, your words barely audible over the pounding in your chest. But neither of you moved. Your lips were so close, dangerously close. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the heat between you simmering just beneath the surface.

“Okay?” he asked again, his gaze flickering down to your mouth for the briefest second.

“Okay.” You nodded again, your voice catching in your throat. 

“Okay.” He echoed. You two couldn’t get another word to even enter your brains. You were so fixed on these new feelings of closeness. 

 “Okay.” You smiled, breathless, and repeated. The word was like a lifeline, something to cling to as the air around you grew thick with tension. The more you said it, the closer you felt to losing control, but also, it was grounding. Keeping you both on the side of restraint. You both must have said it back and forth a dozen times, each ‘okay’ becoming quieter, softer, more charged. The weight of what wasn’t being said hung between you, heavy and undeniable. His eyes were dark, full of something that matched the way your heart was racing. The world felt like it was spinning, but not from the alcohol. It was him—his nearness, his hands on you, the way he was looking at you like he was holding himself back with every ounce of self-control he had. Despite the fog of drunkenness, there was a clarity in the moment. You both knew exactly what you wanted. It would have been so easy to kiss him. To close the gap and let the world slip away. You could feel his restraint in the way his fingers curled slightly into your side, in the way his breath hitched. You wanted it too. You wanted to close your eyes and let it happen, but something inside both of you whispered not like this. 

For Trent, it was about not wanting your first kiss, your first real moment together, to happen in a blur of alcohol, where the next morning was uncertain. He wanted it to mean something. To remember every second. His mind was a haze of swirling thoughts, but one thing was crystal clear—he couldn’t do this, not like this. He wanted more than just a fleeting, drunken kiss. His body was betraying him, his thoughts as slurred as his worlds but he knew… not like this. For you, the reasons were the same, but more. Not drunk. Not in public. Not after he gave you a gift like that. You couldn’t risk the night becoming about the car or about a moment you wouldn’t remember with perfect clarity. You didn’t want the first kiss to be lost to hazy memories. You wanted to be able to hold onto it forever. So both of you stayed frozen, neither willing to pull away, but neither ready to cross the line. The air between you hummed with unspoken desire, but you both clung to restraint like a lifeline, knowing that whatever this was, it deserved better than tonight. Slowly, Trent’s hand slid from your waist, leaving a ghost of warmth behind, and he took a small step back bumping into the wall behind him, breaking the tension but not the connection. His eyes met yours, soft but full of promise, like he was telling you without words that there would be a right time. Just not tonight. You let out a shaky breath, smiling at him, and he smiled back. The moment passed, but it wasn’t gone. Just waiting.

Trent and your feelings needed to be locked away and one of the largest reasons was Jack especially. Growing up without your mum left a gap in your life that never fully healed. Her absence was something you felt deeply, especially in those quiet moments when you needed her comfort the most. Your dad did everything he could to support you and Jack, but eventually, the weight of memories became too much for him. Once you and Jack were old enough, he moved away, explaining that staying was too hard, but he’d held on for you as long as he could. Even with your dad far away, he stayed close in his own way. Yet, you still felt a sense of isolation that seemed impossible to shake. Your only true constant was Jack. He was more than just a brother; he was family in every sense, and when he succeeded in his career, he’d insisted you live with him. It was his house, but your home. Jack’s success had brought him plenty of friends, but none as close as Trent. You remembered the first time you saw them together as kids, the two inseparable on a football pitch, laughing and shouting like they were the only ones who mattered. Your crush on Trent had grown from those early days, blossoming from something innocent into something you couldn’t ignore. Your mum used to always tease you about it and  you’d deny it but in retrospect she was right.  Watching Trent grow into himself over the years only made things worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it. Through your teenage years, you’d felt every moment of jealousy, angst, and longing when he showed up with a new girlfriend. Your crush wavered in intensity but never fully disappeared, flickering in the background as life moved forward. Now, though, it felt different. More possible. Jack was still oblivious, still the overprotective brother who’d sooner scare Trent away than entertain the idea of his friend being with you. But the way Trent had looked at you recently—the almost possessive glances, the magnetic pull between you—had left you wondering if the years of pining might finally be leading somewhere.

From the very first moment Trent walked through your front door, it was impossible not to feel the pull. And now…He was everything a girl could dream of: a sexy, successful Premier League footballer with confidence that was borderline delusional and a smile that made your heart race. Every time he visited, you felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. You’d sneak a glance in the mirror, adjusting your hair, making sure you looked your best, hoping he’d notice you more than just as his best friend’s little sister. And Trent did notice. His eyes had a way of finding you across a room, holding your gaze a moment too long, his lips curling into that lazy smile that sent a shiver down your spine. Whenever he spoke directly to you, his voice was lower, softer, meant just for your ears. You savored every second he paid you any special attention. His touches—casual brushes against your arm, a hand lingering on your back as he squeezed past you in the kitchen—felt like electricity on your skin. You lived for those moments, those fleeting touches, and the way he seemed to light up when he was around you. You dated other guys, tried to create distance, but no one could ever quite compare to Trent. Each new boyfriend felt like a distraction, a poor substitute for what you really wanted. And it was never easy. Whenever your dating life came up in conversation, especially in front of Trent, you hated it. You could feel his eyes on you, a heavy gaze filled with something unreadable, something that made your heart clench. He didn’t like it either—you could tell. He’d get quiet, tense, like he was holding something back, and you’d wonder what he was thinking. But you were off-limits. Trent had made that clear without saying a word. He flirted with you in ways that made your heart pound, yet he always knew just when to pull back, to keep things on the safe side of friendship. He was careful, disciplined, as if he knew that if he ever let himself fully give in to what was simmering beneath the surface, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And so, he kept you at arm’s length, even though you could see the desire flickering in his eyes, could feel it in every lingering touch, every stolen glance.

Jack was a nerd… and his friends were nerds… Trent was a nerd and you knew this because you knew them all too well. To the outside world, to girls that knew them; they were a friend group of objectively good looking successful men but you knew better than that. You had been tagging along for years. Every week, whenever their friend group would convene at Jack's house predominantly to watch films. It began unintentionally but now… you made sure you were home that day.  Your brother’s friend group had a tradition of movie nights—an excuse for a bunch of twenty-somethings to kick back in your brother’s house, or rather your house, enjoying each other's company and the latest blockbuster or old film they likely weren’t alive for when it came out but it was a ‘classic you have to have seen’ they’d tell you. They were a year or so older, all of them already finding their paths in life, with successful careers to boast about. It was one of the reasons you decided to live with your brother after graduating uni; that, and the lure of the sprawling, comfortable home he offered you. But, if you were being honest, the only success story you cared about was Trent's. Every time your brother mentioned one of these movie nights, you found yourself at home ‘by coincidence,’ always ready with a casual excuse about why you weren’t out with your own friends. Deep down, you knew why you stayed. You liked hearing Trent talk about his matches and his training, his voice animated with the passion he felt for the game. His presence in the room was magnetic, drawing your attention even when you tried to play it cool. Trent had a love for films that rivaled his love for football though. He cherished these nights, getting to be ‘normal’ hanging out with his friends and unwinding after a long week. But more than the movies, more than the camaraderie, what Trent loved most were those fleeting, stolen moments with you. When the group would start to drift towards the cinema room, you and Trent would linger in the kitchen, finding little excuses to extend those precious seconds together. Maybe it was grabbing a snack or pouring another drink, but it always ended up with just the two of you, your eyes meeting across the counter, a secret smile shared between you.

He’d take his time getting to the cinema room, always managing to sit next to you on the plush sectional. He loved the way you’d turn to him, your eyes bright as you asked about his latest match or teased him about something trivial. You didn’t even know it, but he lived for those moments—when your hand would casually brush his, or when you’d lean in just a bit closer, letting your arm press against his. The air would thicken with a tension neither of you acknowledged, but both of you felt deeply. There were times when you got a little more daring, your playful nudges becoming something more, your laughter a bit louder, your touch lingering. Trent would feel his breath catch in his throat, his heart pounding as he willed himself to stay composed. You had no idea how much those moments meant to him, how he silently prayed for them every time he walked through your brother’s door. He savored every second you paid him attention, every word you spoke to him, every shared laugh and every fleeting touch. Those nights were his guilty pleasure, a few hours where he could pretend, just for a little while, that the feelings he had for you weren’t forbidden, that there wasn’t an unspoken line he wasn’t allowed to cross. And every time you got a little braver, a little more handsy, you made it harder for him to keep pretending. 

For you, at those movie nights, it was like there was a magnetic force drawing you together. No matter how crowded the room was, you’d always end up next to each other on the couch, under the same blanket, your bodies instinctively leaning closer. Not too close but his arm would casually rest along the back of the couch behind you, his fingers sometimes brushing your shoulder, sending sparks through your skin. The air between you crackled with tension, a tension that both thrilled and terrified you. You’d tell yourself it was innocent, that it was just because you were comfortable with each other. But in those dark, quiet moments, you could almost hear the unspoken words that hung heavy between you. It was a game you both played—pretending that being this close, sharing these stolen moments, was enough. But deep down, you both knew better. There was something between you, something powerful and undeniable, just waiting for the right moment to break free. And until then, you’d keep circling each other, caught in a dance of longing. 

It was one of those balmy summer nights when your brother set up the projector in the back garden for a movie night by the pool. It was the first movie night of the summer, and the energy was already thick with a heady mix of warmth, laughter, and unspoken tension. The boys were sprawled out across the patio, beers in hand, enjoying the evening sun dipping below the horizon. And then you spotted him. 

Trent.

"I didn't know you were back," you grinned, moving to stand next to Trent out on the patio, all of the other boys wrapped up in conversation of their own. This conversation alone though had been what he was waiting for since he got to the house. 

"Yeah? Miss me?" he asked, his voice playful but with a hint of something deeper.

"Of course," you teased back, stepping into his embrace. The way Trent hugged you made your insides flutter… frankly it made you want to scream. He smelled like something familiar yet intoxicating, and the way your bodies fit together just felt right. His hands, as always, hovered just above the curve of your waist, teasingly close to somewhere more dangerous, igniting that tension you'd both danced around for so long. He meant that cuddle and you could feel it. Cuddles between you two know were like some sort of edging. It would get you off but never enough… not even close.

"Who am I supposed to sit with if you weren't here?" you teased, your voice laced with the familiarity of years of flirty banter. Ever since these movie nights started, you always ended up next to him-it was magnetic, almost like a tradition neither of you wanted to break.

"Well you're not sitting with anyone else," he said casually, but there was weight behind his words. Indirectly, Trent wasn't just talking about the movie. He meant it in a way that felt more like a promise, like he was staking a claim that went beyond who sat where on a garden chair. He was protective over you, in ways even your brother or anyone could never know. 

"No?" You shook your head, smiling.

"No," he replied, his eyes steady on yours.

"Besides, who else is supposed to listen to you yap during the films?" He smirked and it was deadly. His smile was devastatingly handsome and it made your stomach flip. 

"I don't talk that much," you quipped back, feigning offense. "You're so dramatic." you swatted at him, your fingers catching his chest just ever so slightly. 

"I'm not," he retorted, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You just don't shut up." His fingers found your waist, pinching playfully, but his hand lingered a little longer than it needed to, sending a shiver through you.

"Sorry, I won't make a peep this time." You bit the tip of your pointer finger holding it between your teeth in feigned bashfulness  unknowingly teasing him. He smirked, his eyes flicking over you with something between amusement and desire.

"Nah, don't do that. Your voice has become part of my favorite film scores now. Just meant to be in my ear." His words, low and teasing, held more meaning than you wanted to admit. You felt the heat between you, the invisible line you kept pretending didn't exist becoming thinner and thinner.

As more of their friends arrived you minded your own business trying to play nonchalant.  But you hung around. You were nearby, casually bent over in your bikini, picking up something you’d dropped near the pool. The moment seemed innocent enough, but you were oblivious to the eyes trailing every move you made. One of Jack’s friends, reclining in his chair, couldn’t help but groan as he watched.

“Mate, not gonna lie, she looks better every summer.” His voice was low enough that Jack, who was inside grabbing more drinks, wouldn’t hear. It was a fine line but one that existed where this friend group was close enough to tease you, treat you like the younger sibling you were but also just close enough to simultaneously be attracted to you. You were less than a year younger than some of them, you were grown, and they knew that. And in the summer, when Jack set up the movies by the pool… you were a more than welcomed addition to movie nights. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Noah, chuckled in agreement, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer than they should. Trent was quiet at first, his jaw tight as he tried to keep his gaze elsewhere. But when he glanced up, seeing the way the sunlight caught your hair and how the curve of your body seemed effortlessly graceful, he slipped. 

"She’s fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice softer than he intended.  “I mean.. She’s leng, you know?” He attempted to not wound so smitten but that was all the ammunition Noah needed. He shot Trent a look, grinning ear to ear, and shoved his shoulder with a teasing nudge. 

“Bro, sod off and just admit you want to sleep with her. How long are you going to drag this out?” The banter took off from there, the boys piling on with their relentless teasing. 

“Yeah, honest mate, stop pretending like you’re not into her,” another one quipped, the laughter bubbling up as they watched Trent squirm in his seat, struggling to deflect. Trent opened his mouth to defend himself, his words tripping over each other in the attempt to stay cool.

 “It’s not like that,” he tried, but the boys weren’t buying it. They roared with laughter, enjoying his discomfort far too much. Noah, never one to let an opportunity slip by, leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief.

 “Bro, we all know she wouldn’t think twice about letting you fuck her. Both of you are not fooling anyone.” He joked. Trent’s smile faltered for a second, but then it returned, a little weaker than before. His eyes betrayed him as they drifted back to you, drawn like a magnet, just as you stood up and turned around, meeting his gaze head-on. For a brief moment, everything slowed—the noise of the teasing boys faded, the laughter dulled, and it was just you and Trent, eyes locked in a moment heavy with something unspoken. You smiled at him, a casual, carefree grin, completely unaware of the conversation happening just feet away. The boys fell silent, their eyes darting between you and Trent, waiting for someone to make the first move, their teasing now hanging in the air like a challenge. Noah couldn’t resist breaking the tension. “Oi, Trentski, come on—tell me you two haven’t already hooked up?” The question hit Trent like a bucket of ice water. He straightened up, shaking his head a little too quickly, his voice firm and almost defensive.

 “Nah, nah! Jack would kill me if he thought anything was going on. I’m not stupid. Nothing happened.” He said it with conviction, but the boys saw through it. He wasn’t lying, nothing happened physically, but something was going on. Their teasing resumed, but Trent was barely listening anymore. His mind was racing, the banter and laughter just background noise to the thoughts swirling in his head. Not stupid, sure… But in that moment, watching you, the line between caution and temptation felt dangerously thin. Maybe not stupid, but a bit horny for you, he thought, the words playing on repeat in his mind as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping no one would notice. You walked over, oblivious to the weight of the conversation you’d just missed.

“What’s got you lot creasing?” you asked, looking around at the group, your eyes finally landing on Trent.

 “Nah, nothing. Just giving Trenty a hard time, as usual.” Before anyone else could, Noah blurted out an answer.  He winked at you, and you furrowed your brow, confused but not pressing the issue.  Trent smiled weakly at you, hoping to shake off the intensity of the moment, but as you stood close, your skin warm from the sun, he felt his pulse quicken. Every inch of him wanted to pull you closer, but he knew better. Jack would be back any second, and the boys were already wound up from teasing him. As you looked at Trent, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you, just a little longer than they should have. And when he smiled back, there was something different in it—something soft, almost vulnerable. It sent a warmth through you, one you tried to ignore, but couldn’t. The boys resumed their chatter, their attention drifting back to harmless jokes, but Trent couldn’t shake the feeling. Every summer, he’d watched you grow into yourself, more confident, more radiant, and every summer, it became harder to pretend he didn’t want something more. The line between you had always been there—unspoken but understood—and he’d never been foolish enough to cross it. Until now.

The sun had finally sunk below the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything but you stayed in your tiny bikini, relishing in the warm weather. You laid stretched out in a tiny fuchsia crochet set letting the evening heat soak into your skin as Jack got the film sorted. 

"Hey," Trent said as he came over, casually lying down next to you.

"Hi," you greeted back, glancing up with a soft smile. The way you were laying made your bikini push your tits together in a way you knew was hard not to notice. You couldn't help but tease, "I'm so glad it's finally summer." you cooed. 

"Me too," Trent replied, though his focus wasn't entirely on the season.

"Yeah, you should be," you giggled, your eyes flicking over his bronzed skin. "You look better tanned." You teased him.

"Damn, alright." He feigned offense, but the smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn't too bothered by the comment. In fact, he liked that you were paying attention.

"Take it as a friendly suggestion," you teased, eyes sparkling. "Got any big holiday plans? You asked. 

"Eh, some," he shrugged, but his attention wasn't on the holidays. It was on you-how the setting sun hit your skin, the way you casually lay there, completely at ease but still making his thoughts stray. You muttered a quiet ‘cool’ though; feeling slightly awkward. You knew Trent had a life outside of this, outside of you, filled with other girls, holidays, a footballer’s luxury lifestyle but he'd never flaunted it in front of you. Still, the thought of him away from here, away from you, left a weird pang in your chest. "Is it?" he asked, a glint of mischief in his eye. He knew where your thoughts went and he wanted to drag you back into lightheartedness. 

"I don't know, you didn't tell me any details." You raised an eyebrow, biting on your finger with a flustered giggle. Unintentionally, Trent’s eyes were drawn to your lips.

"Maybe I don't want you keeping tabs on me," Trent teased, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I don't... I have zero interest in your whereabouts," you stuttered, caught off guard by the teasing tone in his voice and the way he was looking at you. You were lying and he knew that. Neither of you would say that though. 

"That color looks good on you. Take it as a friendly suggestion." He leaned in slightly, his voice lower as he said. You watched, heart racing, as his tanned hand reached over, squeezing just above your knee. His fingers slid up your leg, hooking slightly under the band of your bikini.

"Serious though, it looks good," he repeated, his touch lingering. You almost blacked out. 

"I got it," you smirked, swatting at his hand half-heartedly, pretending you didn't want him touching you when, in truth, it sent a thrill through you. "Thank you for your input. It's noted." You snapped.

"Good," Trent replied with a wink, his gaze lingering on yours a little longer than usual, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Noah watched the whole interaction between you and Trent with growing amusement, shaking his head before turning to Jack. 

"Mate, you just let him go on like that?" he asked, motioning toward Trent, who was snapping the band of your bikini playfully against your skin.

"They're mates," Jack brushed it off, trying to seem unfazed. "It's not like anything happens." Jack's tone was casual, but the truth was he tried not to think too much about the way Trent interacted with you and you with him. You were the most important people in his life and he couldn’t imagine it past that. He couldn’t risk imagining there being anything more because he couldn’t risk losing either of you. He knew you had a crush on Trent, and Trent entertained it, but Jack couldn't believe Trent would actually act on anything. He laughed, trying to brush the situation off. "As long as it's not you, geez. At least I know Trenty doesn't have an STD." Jack smirked. Noah scoffed. 

"Aye, Y/N, whatever happened to that Manny lad you were seeing?" Another boy, grinning, piped up. You blinked, brought out of the blissful haze of being near Trent, who was now lying beside you but his hand retreating after the other boys attention shifted to you. 

"Oh... just stopped talking, I guess," you answered, your tone casual but clearly uninterested. That wasn’t really what happened but it was an easy answer.

"So he pied you, huh?" Jack teased, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you.

"No, I got bored," you snapped back, shooting Jack a glare. The relationship ended because the guy you were seeing was nicely put.. Insane. Also, neither of you were that interested in the other but Jack and his friends didn’t need to know the semantics. The details would probably enrage Jack so you let them think otherwise. 

"Yeah, sure," Noah sarcastically added with a laugh, fueling the banter. You rolled over onto your stomach, attempting to ignore them, but you could feel Trent's eyes locked on the curve of your ass as your bikini shifted with the movement. The reverb of your ass had him locked in.

"So... bored, huh?" His gaze was hot, unmistakable, and he leaned in, his voice quieter now, meant just for you. You hummed in response, feeling the weight of his stare. Trent knew you had been seeing people here and there, and it always bothered him, though he tried to suppress the feeling. He tried to ignore this one, he really did. But this one specifically? The fact the guy you’d been seeing had played for a rival football club? It stung in a way Trent wasn't ready to admit. The idea that it was over, though, thrilled him more than it should have. Trent lowered his voice even further, leaning closer. "In what department? Besides the club he plays for?" He smirked.

"All of them," you replied with a knowing smile, your eyes gleaming as you added, "Bedroom specifically." You confirmed the answer he was skirting around. Trent smirked, his gaze darkening as he processed your words. 

"Interesting, interesting. Y/N, you're always interesting," he muttered, he tapped fingers near your knee, the tension between you two palpable. His gaze flicked back up to your eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world-the jokes, the boys, the movie night-faded into the background. There was something simmering between you two, unspoken, but undeniable.

You were sprawled out on the couch, wallowing in the aftermath of said breakup days later. It wasn’t that you still had feelings for the guy, you knew your heart lied somewhere you couldn’t entertain but the sting of rejection lingered, clinging to you in a way you hated. Frankly, he treated you like shit, you should’ve been relieved you were out and you’d tried to brush the whole thing off, but the hurt of being left behind always cut deep. He blamed you for whatever and ended things and you hated being ‘broken up’ with. Your solution, as it had often been, was to go out—to drown the pain in loud music, drinks, and distraction. It was irresponsible but you found solace in losing yourself. 

“What’re you up to this weekend?” Jack asked, dropping his bag by the door. He came home and saw you lounging on the couch, barely moving. You didn’t even look up.

“Going out Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and brunch on Sunday.” You told him in a monotone voice. Jack shook his head, clearly disapproving. 

“I don’t like it, Y/N. You gotta chill. That kid was a prick anyway. You don’t need to do this” He told you. Jack was right, he was a prick but that barely scratched the surface describing how messed up he was but you’d never let your brother know. But what Jack did know was your habits. He knew you had a way of not necessarily acting out but finding comfort in strangers when things got scary, probably not in the healthiest way. You just hated being alone. You knew he knew all this so you bit your lip, not in the mood for another lecture, but your stomach twisted with his words. 

“Whatever,” you muttered, shifting on the couch. Jack had his own way of coping with the way losing your mum affected you both. You went out looking for detachment whereas Jack was looking for meaning in relationships. In your opinion, it always seemed to be with people who were playing games with him. And lately, it involved spending more time with Megan, a girl he’d been seeing.

“I’m going out tonight with Megan,” he announced, and you immediately kissed your teeth, rolling your eyes.

“What?” he asked, frowning now.

“Nothing,” you replied, but the tension was unmistakable. He wasn’t going to let it drop.

“Y/N, what?” he repeated, a little more forcefully this time. “Go on… tell me.” He quipped. You sighed. 

“I just don’t think Mum would like her.” The room went quiet for a moment. You didn’t know why you said it, but it slipped out before you could stop it. Jack stared at you for a beat, his expression softening. He felt bad so he let out a long sigh, shaking his head but smiling faintly. 

“Y/N… I don’t think Mum would like what you’re doing either.” His words hit harder than you wanted to admit. You knew he was right. You’d been using going out as an escape, not a solution. Still, you weren’t ready to deal with any of it just yet, so you kept quiet. Jack stood up, getting ready to head upstairs. 

“Noah and Trent are coming over later, they’ll probably stick around till I’m back, yeah?” As he left the room, he called back casually. Your heart immediately skipped a beat at the mention of Trent. Jack’s best friend, your longtime crush, the boy who had been increasingly hard to ignore lately. You sat up on the couch, feeling the familiar mix of anticipation and nervousness churn in your chest. Trent was coming over, and suddenly, your evening was looking a lot more complicated.

You and Layla were standing in the kitchen, both sipping on iced coffee and talking about the party you had planned to go to later. The energy was light, and you were trying to distract yourself from your recent split by laughing about it. Trent was walking nearby, just out of sight, but within earshot as you rambled on walking back from the toilet.

"I just want a man who knows how to properly fuck me. I’d like him to actually know where my clit is this time," you blurted out, clearly letting your frustrations slip. "I mean, like, after all the crap with him, I deserve someone who knows what the fuck they're doing in bed, you know?" You laughed and Layla agreed wholeheartedly. Trent, who had been casually walking back to Jack and Noah in the other room from the toilet, froze the moment those words left your mouth. His mind short-circuited. Every fiber of him wanted to walk into that room and say something, but instead, he felt a surge of heat build up inside him. He couldn't think straight. This is what you were thinking about? He could show you. He could be the one to do that for you. He knew what he was doing in the bedroom. He could feel himself getting hard just hearing you talk like that. He needed to leave. He couldn't be around you right now, he couldn’t hear you right now, not with those thoughts filling his head. As Trent made his quick exit, trying to steady his breathing, Layla leaned in closer to you, smirking. 

"So, what's your dream man then? Tell me more about this man who apparently knows where the clit is," she teased, eyeing you as you thought for a moment. Without missing a beat, you started listing off traits, unaware of how specific it was getting. You went through physical traits first. 

“Like deep brown eyes, that can flick from sexy to cute really fast.” You told her as you continued to rattle on. "And athletic, someone who can actually keep up with me. He has to have a sense of humor, be a little protective but not in a weird way, you know? And, like, I just want him to look at me like I'm all that matters.” You cooed. Layla let out a playful laugh, nudging you.

"So….Trent?” She teased you. You waved her off. “Y/N, you just described him to a T!" Your eyes widened as it clicked, and you burst out laughing, slightly embarrassed but also secretly acknowledging the truth in her words. Meanwhile, Trent, oblivious to this part of the conversation, was already long gone, desperate to get himself under control and not think about what you had just said. You and Layla headed upstairs to get ready and after the lengthy process you came downstairs looking dressed to kill in a dark red leather set. Trent’s jaw slacked whereas Jack lips pulled tight in annoyance. 

"Y/N, that skirt is too short," Jack said, his voice stern as you walked into the living room.

His eyes narrowed in disapproval, making you roll yours. Layla, standing beside you, took your hand with a mischievous grin and spun you around for effect. 

"Give us a spin!" Noah teased, his laughter making the room feel light. You playfully obliged, your matching set on full display for your audience as you spun holding Layla’s hand. 

"Jack, I’m not changing, it's a set!" you whined, tugging on the skirt a bit. It was a good outfit, after all.

"Y/N, go change," Jack said again, his tone serious. Before you could respond, Trent, who had been leaning against the wall, stood up and casually walked by you, his presence sending a wave of tension through the room. As he passed, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. 

"Can see your ass," he whispered, his voice low and teasing. You froze, trembling slightly at his words, your mind racing.

“And..?” The whispered question slipped out before you could stop yourself, turning to face him, your heart pounding. Trent smirked, taking a step back, eyes lazily traveling down your body. 

"That was all I had to say. Just wanted you to know." He cooed the words with a wink, leaving you on edge, a mix of frustration and desire coursing through you. Fuck, You just wanted to to ask him to just grab you right there. The desire to tell him to take this stupid outfit off you was nearly overwhelming. Your breath hitched as a thousand unspoken words passed between you. Jack, completely oblivious to the charged moment, snapped you back to reality. 

"Y/N, don't bring anyone home tonight." He told you. You blinked, refocusing on your brother. 

"I won't," you cooed innocently, giving him a smile as if everything was perfectly fine.

Trent smirked, stretching his arms above his head, looking every bit like a man who had just won some sort of conquest. There was a quiet confidence in his stance, as if he knew he had gotten under your skin but also that you wouldn’t get with anyone else tonight.  He didn't even need to say more-he knew where you both stood, and it felt like the beginning of a game you were both playing but refusing to name.

Late that night, you stumbled into the house, laughing with Layla as you both attempted to be quiet but failed miserably. 

"Laylaaaaa," you slurred, giggling as you tugged at the hem of your too-short skirt, "all he did was wink at me! And honestly, that did more for me all night than any man with his hands on me did!" You waved your hands dramatically, completely oblivious to the fact that Noah and Trent were still at the house, forgetting what Jack had told you. You really should call them roommates and not Jack’s friends for how often they overstayed. Layla snorted, steadying you as you wobbled on your heels. 

"You are such a mess," she teased, trying to help you get your shoes off as you stumbled through the entryway.

"I just want his lips all over meee," you whined, pouting dramatically, and unaware of the fact that your voice was now carried into the living room where Trent was sitting. Noah glanced over at Trent, his brows shooting up in amusement as he heard you. You didn't even realize you'd been overheard, lost in your drunken haze. You didn’t need to say a name. They knew. Trent sat up a little straighter on the couch, eyes glued to you as you staggered into the house. His face was neutral, but his jaw tightened as your words lingered in the air. Noah shot him a look and smirked, clearly entertained by the situation.

"So, how was your night?" Noah called out loud enough for you two to hear, the teasing tone in his voice unmistakable. Layla shot him a playful glare. 

"Don't make things worse, Noah," she said, though her lips were twitching with amusement. Trent, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke up. 

"Y/N," he said, his voice smooth but commanding, "c’mere." Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His tone wasn't playful or teasing like Noah's-it was firm, and it cut through your drunken fog in an instant. You turned to face him, your eyes wide, and despite the alcohol in your system, the weight of his gaze made you feel giddy. Without even thinking, you moved toward him, your steps a little unsteady but your focus completely on Trent. You dropped down onto the arm of the couch beside him, still smiling, but your stomach was in knots. Why was he looking at you like that? You couldn't quite read him, and it made your heart race. "I'm glad you had fun tonight," Trent said, his eyes not leaving yours. His voice was calm, but there was something in it that made you hold your breath. "I'm glad you made it back home... with Layla." Trent's voice was teasing now, but there was an underlying intensity in the way he was looking at you that made your skin tingle. His hand brushed against your knee, and even though it was a light touch, it sent sparks through you. His hands moved to hold your thigh to steady you from falling. But the way his massive hand looked, squeezing your thigh and the way he emphasized ‘with Layla’ implying he was glad you didn’t come home with a man sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, trying to play it cool despite the fact that your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it.

"Yeah?" you cooed, leaning slightly closer, drawn to him without even realizing it. You giggled at absolutely nothing. 

"Yeah," he nodded, his voice soft, his eyes locked on yours with a heat that made you squirm. There was a cheeLay glint in his eyes. He couldn’t not be mildly amused by you. You were grinning, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The sounds of the house, the fact that Noah and Layla were still there—it all melted into the background. All you could focus on was the way Trent was looking at you, his expression unreadable in your state, but his gaze unwavering. It felt like there was a magnetic pull between the two of you, and for a moment, you almost leaned in closer, your lips parting slightly as your body reacted instinctively. Noah, still watching from the other side of the room, exchanged a glance with Layla, but neither of them said anything. The tension between you and Trent was palpable, and it seemed like everyone in the room could feel it. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been this close to him, or felt this aware of every single movement he made. And as much as you tried to play it off, your body was betraying you. The butterflies in your stomach, the way your pulse quickened with every glance-it was undeniable. Finally Layla pulled on the back of your top dragging you off the arm of the couch. You stumbled to stand. You swayed on your feet, eyes barely focusing as you leaned heavily into Layla’s grip. 

“Layllllaaaa,” you whined, drawing out her name in a drunken slur, but she hushed you quickly.

“I know, I know, just shhh,” Layla whispered, firmly grabbing your shoulders and trying to steer you away from the living room where Noah and Trent were still watching, both amused and concerned. You weren’t having it though. You tried to lean toward her, but your balance betrayed you. 

“I think he’s so pretttyyy,” you whispered—or at least, you thought it was a whisper. In reality, it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Your eyes landed on Trent again, and your sloppy grin only grew wider. Layla let out an exasperated laugh, her grip on you tightening. 

“You’re gonna die tomorrow,” she muttered under her breath, trying not to laugh too much. Noah snickered, leaning back on the couch. 

“Y/N, no.” He laughed. “Embarrassing this,” he teased, shaking his head. “Layla, get her to stop.” You waved off Noah’s comment, your eyes still focused on Trent, who was watching you with a mixture of amusement and worry. His brows furrowed as he stood up, clearly ready to help. 

“Alright, need to get you to bed, drunk girl” he said, his concern more for your well-being than your drunken confession.

“No! No, you… stay right there, thanks, T, ” Layla said quickly, her eyes wide as she turned to face Trent, trying to keep him from getting closer. She knew that the moment Trent moved toward you, you’d start spilling even more of your feelings, and that was not something either of you could handle right now. Trent hesitated, watching you carefully as you stumbled a little in Layla’s grasp. He knew Layla was right, but his instinct to make sure you were okay was hard to ignore. He caught your eyes again, and for a second, you stared back at him, your drunken haze making you bolder than you’d ever be sober. “She was talking about a guy from tonight by the way,” Layla told them, trying to cover for you but it was a poor attempt. Her own words slurred slightly with a laugh. Trent’s lips twitched, and Noah chuckled. Layla was quick to save the moment, dragging you toward the stairs. “Okay, seriously,  time for bed,” she announced, shooting Trent a look as if to say please don’t do anything else. As Layla guided you to the stairs, you couldn’t help but glance back at Trent one more time, your heart still fluttering despite the alcohol in your system. His eyes followed you, and for a moment, you swore he almost smiled, but he caught himself, shaking his head slightly. You were a mess, but something about the way he looked at you made your heart race, even in your drunken state. You slumped down on the stairs, too tired to get up them and drunk to carry yourself any further. “Okayyy, come on, we’re going upstairs,” Layla coaxed, looking down at you with a sigh. Turning to the boys, she teased, “You guys have a good night wasting away your 20s.” She shot Noah and Trent a look, knowing they could be out having fun, but had opted for a quiet movie night instead.

“At least we’re not wasted!” he retorted, grinning at Layla. Noah laughed, raising his drink in mock cheers. But Trent wasn’t amused by the joke. He stood up, his face serious, and moved over to where you were sitting on the stairs. 

“Layla, seriously,” he quipped, giving her a knowing look. He understood the caution before but this was just dragging on. You needed to get to bed. So then he turned his attention to you, his voice softening. “C’mere you,” he said gently, and before you knew it, he had effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.

“Hiii,” you whispered softly, your voice slurring as you looked up at him. Your faces were close, so close that you could see the small cluster of freckles just under his eye, something you’d almost forgotten was there.

“Hi,” he replied, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he glanced down at you.

“You’re nice to me,” you earnestly confessed with a giggle, your words filled with drunken sincerity.

“I am,” he confirmed with a quiet chuckle, agreeing with you as he adjusted you in his arms, holding you securely. You gazed up at him, your drunken haze giving you a boldness you wouldn’t have had otherwise. 

“Do you think I’m pretty?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost vulnerable. He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes briefly scanning your face. 

“I do,” he admitted, but then added with a teasing smile, “And you’re also drunk, so get to sleep for me, yeah?” You gave a small, tired nod as he carried you into your room. Layla followed closely behind, making sure you didn’t stir up any more drunken confessions. As Trent laid you down gently on the bed, your head spun, but his presence was oddly comforting and igniting wild ideas in your head.

“You’re pretty too,” you mumbled drunkenly as your eyes fluttered open and shut, too tired to see his reaction. Trent smiled to himself, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before stepping back. Layla watched him with a knowing look but didn’t say anything, giving him space to exit quietly but he didn’t. "Laylaaa, the skims," you whined again, your voice slurring as you fumbled with the hem of your top. You were too drunk to manage even that simple task, your arms flailing in frustration. All you wanted was to get out of your clothes and into your favorite pajamas. Layla, herself a bit unsteady but far more sober than you, stumbled toward your dresser, trying to locate the pajamas you always begged for after a night out. 

"Okay, okay, I'm getting them," she muttered, half-laughing as she rifled through the drawer, her own movements slowed by the alcohol. Meanwhile, Trent stood frozen by the door, his eyes catching on the scene before him. You, in your half-dressed, vulnerable state, were peeling your top off over your head, exposing more than you probably realized. His heart raced, and he suddenly found it very hard to look away. This wasn't the first time he'd seen you drunk, not by a long shot. But something about tonight felt different. The way your words had tumbled out earlier, drunk but still sincere— it was all seared into his mind. It wasn't the usual teasing banter he'd come to expect from you. It was raw, unfiltered, and it came directly from you this time, not overheard in the midst of a party not passed along by "T... you can go now," Layla interrupted sharply, snapping him out of his daze. Her voice cut through the fog in his head, reminding him of where he was and that he was dangerously close to crossing a line. She glanced at him with wide eyes and a cheeky grin clearly noticing the tension in the room.

"Uh, yeah, right. Shit, sorry," Trent mumbled, shaking his head like he was trying to clear the thoughts clouding his mind. He turned on his heel, moving toward the door as quickly as he could without looking like he was fleeing. But even as he walked away, the image of you

-tipsy, carefree, peeling off your clothes in front of him-stayed with him. Your tanned smooth skin, the ridge of your spin, the lace of your bra… it was all too much. His mind replayed the way you looked up at him earlier in the night, your gaze soft and inviting, and your words played on a loop in his head. He could still smell the faint hint of your perfume, still feel the crackling tension that had built between you. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, breathing heavily. His heart pounded in his chest. He had to get himself together, or at least pretend to. Back in your room, Layla was still rummaging through the drawers, finally pulling out the set you wanted and tossing it onto the bed.

"Here, now get changed, you lush," she teased, her tone light but her eyes flickering with concern as she glanced at the door Trent had just exited from. You struggled into the pajamas, not noticing the shift in Layla's demeanor, or the way she seemed more aware of the strange charge that had filled the room. She hadn't missed the way Trent's eyes lingered a little too long on you, the way he hesitated as if he were fighting something within himself. "You're a mess, you know that?" Layla laughed, trying to bring the mood back to something light as she flopped down on the bed beside you. You giggled, too drunk to realize what had just happened. 

"But I'm your mess," you teased, hugging a pillow as you settled into the bed. "Mmmm, I want a cuddle," you whined, shifting around in bed, trying to get comfortable grabbing a pillow. You buried your face in the pillow, but it wasn't the comfort you were after. Layla, sitting next to you on the bed, smirked.

"You can cuddle with me," she teased, pulling the blanket over you both and nudging you playfully.

"Nooo, I want a pretty boy," you pouted, your mind already drifting to Trent. You imagined what it would've been like if he hadn't left the room earlier-if he'd stayed, laid down next to you, and pulled you close. Layla raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. 

"Oh, you mean the pretty boy who carried you upstairs and stared at you while you took your top off?" she teased, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing you tight in a playful hug. You could feel the laughter bubbling up between the two of you. "His nonchalance is such a fucking  gimmick," she continued, shaking her head with amusement. "I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching." You giggled, burying your face in your hands as a warm blush spread over your cheeks. 

"Did he... like my tits?" you asked through a fit of laughter, your voice slurring slightly. A bluntness that was carried by alcohol. Layla chuckled, rolling her eyes. 

"I think so," she said, playfully shaking her head. "Pretty sure that was the highlight of his night."

You both burst into laughter, the room filling with the sound of your drunken giggles as you clung to each other. Even in your tipsy haze, your thoughts kept drifting back to Trent. "Okay, sleep please," Layla begged, her voice tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You can suck his dick later," she added with a teasing laugh, trying to reel you back from your wild thoughts. You grinned mischievously, your eyes glinting under the dim light of your room. 

"Mmm, I know it's big," you replied, almost dreamily, your head still spinning from the drinks and the charged energy between you and Trent. Layla groaned, shaking her head with a laugh.

"Y/N! I was kidding.” She laughed. “You're losing your mind! You can't do this to him," she scolded gently, though the smile on her face betrayed her own amusement at the situation. You huffed, trying to justify the tension that had been crackling between you and Trent all night. 

"Maybe he wants it toooo," you insisted, drawing out the last word as if it made the case stronger. You could still feel the weight of his gaze from earlier, the way his hands felt when he carried you upstairs-it was all too real. Layla rolled her eyes, though her expression softened as she looked at you. 

"Doesn't mean it should happen," she cautioned, her tone more serious now. "Jack's your brother, and Trent's his best friend. You're both walking a tightrope, and you might be taking it a little too far." Drunk or not, you knew she was right. Layla knew how much you liked Trent but she also knew how important Jack was to you. The alcohol made it easy to blur the lines, to give in to temptation, but Layla's words lingered in the air, a reminder that there was more at stake than just a one-night fling. As you drifted off to sleep, the night's events began to fade into the haze of alcohol. But for Trent, the feeling lingered. He knew you weren't just Jack's little sister anymore, and tonight had made that painfully clear. He wondered what would happen if you both ever acknowledged what was brewing between you, a tension that seemed to be growing stronger with each passing day.

•

Thank you for reading! I hope you like the beginning of this new series! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what you think is to come!

Next part - Chapter 2 - Bruises xx

[al1fers-haven]

Hear me out, Alastor x Vox's wife

Basically, the reader was married to Vox when alive and hated him but couldn't get a divorce. When she died, she went to heaven, but then fell and was found by Vox, who promptly forced her back into the wife role

But, one night, the reader runs away and meets Alastor, and she instantly bonds with him over a mutual hatred of Vox, which turns into them falling in love

Sorry if the idea is too harsh on Vox, just a scenario I've been thinking about for a while

NO! Don't be sorry love. Its absolutely perfect.

"Oh Deer,"

Alastor x Vox's Wife!Reader

Nothing could have prepared you for the pain you felt when falling. The harsh searing pain that enveloped you as you hit the ground and heard that snap. Tears stained your cheeks as you glared up at the heavens. Too focused on your anger and pain to take in your surroundings and where exactly you were. Demons stared as you stood up, a loud groan leaving your figure as the bright gold blood dripped down your back, the sticky substance sticking to your palms as you tried to wipe it off of you. Vox stopped in his tracks, eyes a bit wide as he saw you drag yourself down the street. Valentino looked back at the TV man before following his gaze with a confused look. "Y/n...?" You stopped in your tracks, looking over towards the TV man and scowling. "Y/n? Is that you? What are you doing down here-" You yelped, trying to move away from him. One of the wings on your back flares up and makes you yell. Breathing harshly as you stared at him.

"Stay the HELL away from me you- you vile demon!" You held your palms against the dragging wing. Sobs wracking your whole form.

"Y/n...It's me. It's your husband...Don't you recognize me?" Your eyes widened, pure hatred filling your brain as you stared at him. "You- You nasty man! You horrible human! You are awful!" Vox stared in shock, your true feelings about him now out in the open. "Y/n...you're hurt." He reached his hand out and Valentino walked up to the two of them. All eyes turned to the pitiful display. "Come home, love."

~!~

"Do you even understand what I'm telling you, woman? Get my coffee. And make it the right way." You flinched, eyes looking toward the ground as your eyebrows furrowed. A small scowl on your face.

"I should've divorced you before you died. You cunt." You let out a yelp as he grabbed the neck of the shirt you were wearing, trying to keep you to 'today's time he shoved you inside of a tight outfit you hated. "Oh? Well, why didn't you." You shoved the TV man off of you. Fixing your shirt. "Because I thought maybe, just maybe. You'd leave me for another woman so I could raise our child ALONE." Vox's TC screen glitched, walking up to you. "Don't you DARE bring her into this!" You poked his chest, puffing your own out to seem bigger. "You don't understand how happy I was to hear you had died in that shitty bar lounge you always sat in! How happy I was for her to get to live without your influence!" You stepped forward, making the man step back. "I raised her all on my own and until she died and I did a wonderful job! Thanks to you dying she didn't have to witness that boring excuse of a thing you called love!" He grabbed your hand and threw you to the ground. Huffing as he stared at you with wide eyes. You obviously hit a soft spot. His eyes softened for a moment. "It's such a shame she died so young." Your eyes burned, Vox's eyes looking down on you. Pitying you for the death of your daughter. "." You stood up, storming out of the room and running out of the building. Vox's head turned to hs associates. "When did you have a kid?" Valentino broke the silence.

You sat on one of the benches in the more secluded part of the city, Your wings tucked into your back as you sat next to the little antique shop. Sobs left your figure as you sat there. Unaware of what to do in a situation like this. It was like you were alive all over again, crying over the loss of normalcy when Vox had died. "Hm?" A red-haired man zipped through the radio behind you. Leaning against the staff in his hand as you stood up and wiped your eyes, "Do my eyes deceive me?" The static startled you, jumping a bit before turning around to see the man. "Oh." You blinked a couple times at the odd figure. Huffing as you ran a hand through your hair. "Alastor, right? Vox's horrible horrible enemy?" You crossed your arms, trying to make it seem like you still had some control in your life. "Yes! And you are his....Assistant?" He waved his hand a little bit, trying not to hit a sensitive spot and deal with more of your weeping.

"Ex-wife." He blinked a couple times, laughing and grabbing your Backpack so he could sit down and leave you a seat. "Oh? Do tell more." His smile was eerily comforting, a sigh left your figure as you sat down. Obviously still upset. "I left, like i should've when we were living." The words spat out like venom. Eyes narrowing in on the ground. "He was an ass sure but at first he at least tried to pretend he cared. Just like he did here. I fell, he pretended to care for me enough to get me to call him my husband again and then boom. It was back to the same abuse i got out of in our 30's." You leaned back. The radio demon's frequencies stopped for a moment so he could listen. Anything he could use against Vox was a wonderful addition, no matter the baggage it brought with it. "He beat you?" Alastor tilted his head, mildly amused with this information. "Sometimes, not hard but enough to hurt. Slapping, name-calling, kicking. Things that wouldn't leave too much of a mark." You turned towards him. His smile was a bit tense. "When I had our child, my baby girl he changed a bit. Tried pretending a bit more while I was pregnant with her. He seemed to care for her. but just not for me." Your eyebrows furrowed as you continued. "She died when she was 2. About a year after Vox died from alcohol poisoning in that stupid bar."

Alastor put a hand on your shoulder. Now listening intently. "I'm glad she didn't have to deal with his constant fucking whining." Alastor laughed at that, his eyes closing a bit as he nodded. "Why yes, I have noticed quite a bit that he has a knack for whining and crying." You laughed a bit, finally calming down. "My name is Y/n, by the way." Alastor nodded, sitting up straight before sighing. "I'm aware...Alastor." He shook your hand, watching you laugh a bit more. "Y'know he wanted to name our kid Murphy?" Alastor blinked a couple times before laughing more, shaking his head no. It must have been hours, the two of you laughing in the street at all of the stupid things Vox had done before and after he died. Alastor filled you in on all of the stuff he knew while you told him about simple things.

The two of you calmed down a little bit, a smile on both of your faces as you stared off. The radio demon stood up suddenly and reached for your hand. "Well! Why don't you come to the hotel with me! I'm sure Charlie would love a new girl there!" You looked up at him, chuckling nervously. "Well...I don't know about that Alastor." "Cmon! Just for a night hm? Then we can see if we can make a deal." You grabbed his hand and yelped, suddenly being inside a random hotel with a blonde girl staring.

"Alastor! You're back....who is this?" She pointed towards you, a nervous smile on your face as Alastor twirled you a bit. Your laughter filled the room as you stopped spinning and suddenly appeared inside of better clothing fitting your time, an older 1920s-1950s dress fitting you perfectly. "This darling is Y/n! She was in quite the pickle and after...awhile-" You jumped in, hands clasped in front of you in a polite way. "2 hours." Alastor shook his head. "And after some time of talking I convinced her to take a shot at redemption, dear charlie." Charlie squealed, grabbing your hands and hugging you tightly. (Nearly till you died again.) "Welcome to the hazbin hotel!! I'm so glad Alastor brought you here!" Angel stared confused, looking as Alastor let you readjust his tie . A couple blinked of surprise leaving his figure as you walked away and towards the group. Immediately recognizing angel. "Angel!" He blinked. Staring at you. "Mrs? What are you doing here?" He waved his hand as you hugged him, a small frown appearing on your lips. "I left, me and vox got into another argument and I blew up on him." Angel laughed, hugging you again and sighing. "I wish I was there to see that asshole's face! Did'ya give him hell?!" You nodded excitedly. Looking around and taking a deep breath. "Oh, it feels good to be free again! Oh, how can I thank you Alastor!" Husker stiffened in his place, everyone expecting him to ask for her soul. "Perhaps you can tell me more about your dear ex-husband, hm? Seems like we didn't finish our little chat earlier dear." "Oh! Of course! You're such an angel puddin'! Oh, this is going to be so fun!"

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Please can you write something with Bill? 🥺 I would really like him in your writing style

✮⋆˙ twinkle twinkle little star (Bill Cipher x reader)

author note: hii, so this is my first time writing Bill Cipher (if we’re not counting smut LOL), so if he feels a little OOC, I’m so sorry in advance :((

“You’ve got no idea how small you are. A little ant, crawling on the rim of a soda can, thinking the universe stops where the metal curves. But you’re lucky, babe. You’ve got me to show you the truth.”

You never should’ve made that deal and you knew it.  

You should've known better than to trust him.

“Love” wasn’t the word for it.

At first, it felt. . .  flattering. Who wouldn’t be seduced by the idea of being special in the eyes of something so vast, so incomprehensible? But Bill wasn’t the type to love, not in the way you understood it. 

He didn’t love you, not the way humans did. Bill Cipher didn’t do love. You were his curiosity, obsession, a bright, burning light in his endless void. 

He called you his little star, but very soon it turned into his pretty, breakable toy. And you hated how the words made your skin prickle, how his attention felt like sunlight filtered through glass, so beautiful and searing, but dangerous if you stayed too long.

He never asked you to love him. That would imply some sort of equality, wouldn’t it? Something mutual, balanced, tender. No, Bill Cipher wasn’t a man or a demon. . . or a whatever he was, who traded in such mortal trivialities. Love? What even was that, anyway? A chemical spill in the brain? A pathetic excuse for self-destruction? Hilarious!

Instead of your love, Bill demanded your existence. Every breath, every thought, every fleeting moment of fear or fury or fascination, it all belonged to him, as surely as the stars belonged to the sky. And wasn’t that the whole point? To take something so ordinary, so inconsequential and remake it in his image?

Bill didn’t love you. He consumed you. 

He didn’t care about your happiness or well-being, but he cared about your essence and your potential. 

The stars were his obsession, and now you were too.

When he first spoke to you about the them, he said, “you humans love to romanticize the heavens, don’t you? Gazing up with your sad little eyes, dreaming of escape, like you’re anything more than dust stuck in a whirlpool. But you, sweetheart, you could be a star if you wanted.” 

And it sounded too tempting.

***

With fear and trepidation, you realised that you would like him to appear more often in your life. You felt lonely and empty without that singular eye which was so damn alive in ways human ones could never be. When Bill Cipher looked at you it felt as if the fabric of the universe peeled back, and for the first time, someone truly saw you.

“You’re different,” he whispered once and his voice sounded like molten gold. “They’re all rats in a maze, but you’ve got potential. You could shine, dear.”  and you believed him.

Maybe that’s why, when he first tore the sky apart and dragged you into a void of glittering stars, you didn’t scream.

Because Bill doesn’t show you space, he shoves you into it. 

It was fucked up, all of it. 

The way he could snap his fingers and peel the world apart like wallpaper, exposing the writhing void beneath it. Bill doesn’t do anything halfway. One moment you’re standing on Earth, listening to him wax poetic about infinity; the next, you’re drowning in the universe itself. 

“Look what I can do. Look what I’ve seen. And now, you get to see it too!” Bill said excitedly meanwhile all you could do was only stare, slack-jawed, as galaxies spun like pinwheels with their light painting you in hues of silver and violet.  

Bill’s laugh cuts through the silence like static on a dying radio. “Beautiful, isn’t it, dear? A front-row seat to the cosmic symphony! And guess what? You’re the lucky guest of honor!”

“Fuck,” you whispered in awe, not even daring to blink.

Bill laughed at you again. “Exactly, baby! Fuck! That’s the kind of reaction I’m talking about! Do you get it now? While all these other ants were busy bumping into walls, I saw this. This!”

His eye spun toward you, unblinking, watching you from head to toe. He watched you both worshipful and utterly unhinged because for him you were part of those infinite constellations he adored, he watched you like you were the only thing that mattered in a universe of infinite distractions.

“You could be one too. A star.” Cipher spoke.

You didn’t ask what he meant back then, only laughed. “Stars burn out, Bill.”  

“Yeah, but they make one hell of a show first.” 

But how sad that stars didn’t just shine, they exploded.

***

It wasn’t all chaos and destruction, not at first. There were soft and tender nights, when the storm of his mind calmed just enough to let the starlight through.

Bill Cipher didn’t have lips to kiss, but he had power and he wielded it for you when he felt like it.

One of the clearest proofs of his power was that night by the lake.

You remember it, the night the moons danced just for you. 

Bill hated water, loathed its constraints, its rules, but he was levitating beside you anyway, watching as you waded deeper. You floated on your back, staring up at the night sky, feeling the silence, enjoying it. His eye gleamed in the darkness, lighting you up, taking you in like a masterpiece he didn’t know how to ruin just yet, but there was unusual softness in his voice when he snapped his fingers. 

And the moons, now two of them, impossibly large, swelled and glowed with light. And then the lake shimmered, the ripples reflected the radiance until it looked as though you were swimming through liquid silver, no. . . melted pearls in their beauty.

And it took your breath away.

“You like it?” he asked in a casual tone. “I can make it brighter, if you want. Or darker. Or gone.” 

And as if reading your mind, Bill snapped his fingers once more and the two moons shone even brighter.

“Better now, right? It’s for you, sweetie,” he said, leaning on his cane. “The moon, the stars. . . hell, the universe.”

You hated how beautiful it was. How much it felt like it was for you. But back then, you felt loved. Or at least, something close enough to it.  

***

Bill was everywhere. In your mind, in your shadow, in the air you breathed.

But love with Bill was never meant to be gentle, it meant to be a trap. A game played in his favor, in which you were destined to lose. It started small, quiet, too quiet to notice and react, his words cutting deeper, his charm was imbued with a poison. He didn’t just want you near; he wanted to own you, to reshape you in his image, to pull you apart until there was nothing left but the star he claimed to see in you.

He didn’t just want your attention, he demanded it, craved it with a desperation that was feral. And when you tried to push back, tried to claim even the smallest piece of yourself, he didn’t take it well.

One night, after you’d dared to argue with him, to tell him no, he burned with a rage that lit up the sky. His form glowed red, large, his voice so loud and low that made the ground tremble beneath your feet.

“You think you can defy me? You think you can just walk away? Newsflash, sweetheart: you’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And you’re not going anywhere.”

He grew restless. Obsession turned to cruelty. When he spoke, it was no longer about the stars you could see, but the ones he wanted you to become. His anger was cosmic, vast and unrelenting, and it terrified you.

“You’re wasting yourself here,” he snarled one day, his triangular form flashing red again as he hovered above you. “These people, this place, they’re nothing. I could make you mor—”  

“W-what are you even talking about, Bill?” you spat, though your voice trembled. “I’m human, Bill. I can’t—”  

“Bullshit! You can. You just won’t. And that’s what makes you pathetic. You think you can leave me? Do you even know what I’ve done for you? What I’ve shown you?”

You stared at him, trembling, but still defiant. “You’ve shown me a prison with a prettier view.”

And Cipher only laughed. “Prison? Sweetheart, I’ve given you the fucking stars! You’d be nothing without me. Nothing.” if he had a mouth, it’d be that disgusting crazy wide grin.

You wanted to run. But how do you run from someone who can rewrite the very ground beneath your feet?

***

You remember the terror of Weirdmageddon because you were at the center of it all. Not by choice, never by choice, but because that’s what he wanted. And what Bill Cipher wanted, he took.

But when it was over, when the Pines family managed the impossible, when Bill was defeated, erased from Stanley’s mind, when they unraveled Bill’s madness, tore him apart, and your world snapped back into place, the silence felt. . . deafening. 

You didn’t see Bill fall, not directly, but you felt it, you knew it was over, the sudden, aching silence where his presence used to be.  

The world felt smaller without him, quieter, duller. And you hated yourself for noticing.

You should’ve been relieved.

But instead, you stood in the ashes of his world, staring up at a sky, at the empty space where his chaos had once burned so brightly.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t laugh. 

And you remembered the stars. But Bill taught you that stars were always meant to burn out.

You remembered the way his voice softened when he talked about them, how excited and happy he sounded, the way he’d show you galaxies as if they were flowers he’d plucked just for you. You remembered the way he watched you, like you were the only thing in all of creation that mattered.

Even now, after his fall, you hope he remembers the galaxies. . . or if he’s just another forgotten star, lost to the void.

And you wondered if, somewhere, in some forgotten corner of the universe, he remembered and saw stars too.

[martinluvrr]

NUMBER ONE | KATE MARTIN ( FINAL PART )

⋅˚₊‧ kate martin x actress!reader

⋅˚₊‧ summary: everything is perfect, but perfection doesn’t come free.

⋅˚₊‧ part three || nav

☆

liked by hbo, usera, y/ny/l/n and 16,682 others

vanityfair Y/n Y/l/n is nominated for her first ever emmy for HBO’s House of the Dragon. In category “Outstanding lead actress in a drama series”, does she have your vote?

☆

“Kate-"

"I thought we agreed on this. You and her would not have contact"

"So what was i supposed to do ,just ignore her when she appeared in my face?"

"Yes that exactly what you should've done" She lets out, yelling. Y/n suddenly felt herself freeze, her entire mood shifted.

Everything was going great, candlelit dinner, make out in the kitchen counter, laughing, more kisses etc. When you finally told her about your encounter at a movie premiere with your former fling, Lily Rose Depp, you saw her jaw clench, her lips pursed together and her tongue touched her cheek insider her mouth. That's when shit went crazy.

Just as you were both sitting down, she sat up, pacing up while repeating your story. When you tried to calm her down, she snapped, frustrated with you. The only other time you saw Kate this mad was when she find out you and Lily still had each others number, she calmed down quick when you blocked it, but now you weren't sure what to do. You and Lily had shared a brief conversation about the movie, which she thought it was enough of a conversation for her to sneak in a hug at the end. You both knew that you guys weren't going to happen again, but a small part of Kate thinks that Lily isn't in the same mindset with you.

It's been exactly a year and a half since the rooftop date, shortly after that , both of you became exclusive when Kate brought you to the annual team dinner and introduced as her girlfriend, you got deja vu all over again. The relationship was still a secret, but it wasn't like people didn't speculate. Everything was going great, Kates career was booming and yours as well, you were nominated for your first emmy two weeks ago, in 3 days you were going to find out if you were going to have a gold winged woman in your hands. Besides that, you and Kate were thriving, moved into a penthouse a month ago, a home just for you two. You rarely fought, and when you did it was accompanied wth great make up sex, so you didn't complain. But you had a feeling that there was no sex after this, just misery.

"Don't yell at me, I'm sorry" You said, your eyes on the ground, shameful.

"Well sue me for being frustrated"

"I didn't mean for this to happen-"

"What did you think was going to happen?"

"I didn't even hug her back-"

"Y/n-" she screamed, again.

"I said, don't yell at me" you screamed back. You felt yourself take a step back , unsure of what to do, you said what you thought was best "I think i should go"

"What?"

"I'm gonna go, spend the night with Emma or Matt or something, we need space before we scream at each other again" you said while rubbing your head with frustration. You heard Kate move, and when you heard her car keys jiggle, you looked up. your tear filled eyes met her angry ones,

"Don't bother" she said, opening the door before slamming it shut. You felt your eyes not bother anymore, tears leaked. Nothing comes for free, everything was with a cost.

☆

"We haven't said anything to each other in 2 days" you said to Jada.

"Nothing, really?"

"Nothing, she goes to practice, i stay in the living room, she returns and i go out wherever i can"

The apartment was filled with utter silence, Kate was not saying anything but you knew that she saw your sad eyes, and even though she was aware she didn't do anything about it. That made it even worse, you had spent an hour crying about it when you made that realization. Was this over? Was this how you two were going to end? And you definitely knew that you wouldn't be able to survive that, would probably stop dating for good after.

"We're just avoiding each other, and it's slowly breaking me" You heard your voice crack, your eyes became glossy. Your make up artist stopped himself, gave you a look of sympathy before asking if he should continue, you gave him a nod.

"Don't cry and do not think about this tonight, you're at the Emmys for god sakes"

That's another thing upsetting you, Kate was supposed to be your date, if you won, she would be the person you would want to get up and hug you, then kiss you after when you were alone. But if she didn't want to talk you, then you weren't going to either.

"You're right"

☆

"And the winner for outstanding lead actor in drama series is... MATT SMITH" You heard them announce. As you hugged your co star and congratulated him, you wondered if Kate had been watching, the next award was your nominee category ,and you weren't sure if you could handle going on that stage knowing she's not happy with you.

As a commercial break was announced, you felt as your empty seat was occupied suddenly, and then you heard her voice. "Hey" she smiled at you, she was here. She was actually here, she didn't miss this.

"Thank you" for coming, you silently thought, you knew Kate understood. She knew everything about you.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world baby, no matter how mad we are at each other" She said, bringing your knuckles to her lips. Suddenly feeling the urge to kiss her, you didn't stop yourself. You didn't care and neither did she when you felt her kiss you back. All that mattered is that you had each others support, you didn't care about anybody elses.

"And the Outstanding actress in a drama series is... Y/N Y/L/N"

☆

instagram.com↙

liked by zendaya, hbo, adele and 2,100,356 others

y/ny/l/n oh my god. i don't know where to begin. thank you to hbo and the most amazing crew and cast mates on earth and congratulations to everybody, this past 2 years have been amazing and unforgettable. thank you to my family,friends and fans, the massive support made me who i am. And finally thank you to my person, i wouldn't want to be here if it isn't with you.

usera oh kate and y/n🥹🥹

userb most well deserved

houseofthedragonhbo congratulations princess rhaesya 💘

zendaya congratulations girly❤️❤️❤️

userc loveloveyouu

userd her and kate are so cute omg😘😋

↳ usere i always knew

↳userf who didn't tho????

userg shes one tony away from EGOT 🤭

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liked by y/ny/l/n, katemartin, hbo and 789,079,657 others

houseofthedragonhbo congratulations to our outstanding actors. thank you, y/n and matt. @y/ny/l/n

millyalcock favs

userh best cast ever

useri hottest cast on earth istg

↳ userj casting director deserves a raise

theemilycarey 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

userk fav uncle-niece duo 😛

↳ userl deaddd

↳ userm targaryen incest hahahahahahhahaha

usern missing them

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liked by aja22wilson, lvaces, paigebueckers and 46,876 others

katemartin congratulations baby, whether you lost or won, always will remain number one in my heart ❤️ @y/ny/l/n

aja22wilson congratulations 🎊

alyshaclark 🥹🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

usero love them already

y/ny/l/n i love you.

userp crying omg this is so cute 😭😭

↳ userq right?? 😭😭😭

lvaces congrats y/n 🎊🎊🎊🎊🤭🤭

↳ y/ny/l/n thanku 🫶🏻🫶🏻

loading more comments…

☆

thankyou for reading <3333

[hope-ur-ok]

Surprise Song Master post ~ European Leg

5/9 Paris, FR: Paris + LOML

5/10 Paris, FR: Is It Over Now?/OOTW + My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

5/11 Paris, FR: Hey Stephen + Maroon

5/12 Paris, FR: The Alchemy / Treacherous + Begin Again / Paris

5/17 Stockholm, SE: I Think He Knows / Gorgeous + Peter

5/18 Stockholm, SE: Guilty As Sin? + Say Don't Go / Welcome to New York / Clean

5/19 Stockholm, SE: Message In A Bottle / How You Get The Girl / New Romantics + How Did It End?

5/24 Lisbon, PT: Come Back... Be Here / The Way I Loved You / The Other Side of the Door + Fresh Out the Slammer / High Infidelity

5/25 Lisbon, PT: The Tortured Poets Department / Now That We Don't Talk + You're On Your Own Kid / Long Live

5/29 Madrid, ES: Sparks Fly / I Can Fix Him (No Really Can) + I Look In People's Windows / Snow On the Beach

5/30 Madrid, ES: Our Song / Jump Then Fall + King of My Heart

6/2 Lyon, FR: The Prophecy / Long Story Short + Fifteen / You're On Your Own Kid

6/3 Lyon, FR: Glitch / Everything Has Changed + Chloe Or Sam Or Sophia Or Marcus

6/7 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: Would've Could've Should've / I Know Places + 'Tis the Damn Season / Daylight

6/8 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: The Bolter / Getaway Car + All of the Girls You Loved Before / Crazier

6/9 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: It's Nice To Have A Friend / Dorothea + Haunted / Exile

6/13 Liverpool, England UK: I Can See You / Mine + Cornelia Street / Maroon

6/14 Liverpool, England UK: This Is What You Came For / Gold Rush + The Great War / You're Losing Me

6/15 Liverpool, England UK: Carolina / No Body No Crime + The Manuscript / Red

6/18 Cardiff, Wales UK: I Forgot That You Existed / This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things + I Hate It Here / The Lakes

6/21 London, England UK: Hits Different / Death By A Thousand Cuts + The Black Dog / Come Back Be Here / Maroon

6/22 London, England UK: thanK you aIMee / Mean + Castles Crumbling w/ Hayley Williams

6/23 London, England UK: Us w/ Gracie Abrams + Out Of The Woods / Is It Over Now? / Clean

6/28 Dublin, IE: State of Grace / You're On Your Own Kid + Sweet Nothing / Hoax

6/29 Dublin, IE: The Albatross / Dancing With Our Hands Tied + This Love / Ours

6/30 Dublin, IE: Clara Bow / The Lucky One + You’re On Your Own Kid

7/4 Amsterdam, NL: Guilty as Sin? / Untouchable + The Archer / Question...?

7/5 Amsterdam, NL: imgonnagetyouback / Dress + You Are In Love / Cowboy Like Me

7/6 Amsterdam, NL: Sweeter than fiction / Holy Ground + Mary's Song / So High School / Everything Has Changed

7/9 Zürich, CH: Right Where You Left Me / All You Had To Do Was Stay + Last Kiss / Sad Beautiful Tragic

7/10 Zürich, CH: Closure / A Perfectly Good Heart + Robin / Never Grow Up

7/13 Milan, IT: The 1 / Wonderland + I Almost Do / The Moment I Knew

7/14 Milan, IT: Mr. Perfectly Fine / Red + Getaway Car / Out Of The Woods

7/17 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Superstar / Invisible String + "Slut!" / False God

7/18 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Speak Now / Hey Stephen + This Is Me Trying / Labyrinth

7/19 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Paper Rings / Stay Stay Stay + It's Time To Go / Better Man

7/23 Hamburg, DE: Teardrops On My Guitar / The Last Time + We Were Happy / Happiness

7/24 Hamburg, DE: The Last Great American Dynasty / Run + Nothing New / Dear Reader

7/27 Munich, DE: Fresh Out The Slammer / You Are In Love + Ivy / Call It What You Want

7/28 Munich, DE: I Don't Wanna Live Forever / Imgonnagetyouback + LOML / Don't You

8/1 Warsaw, PL: Mirrorball / Clara Bow + Suburban Legends / New Years Day

8/2 Warsaw, PL: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) / I Can See You + Red / Maroon

8/3 Warsaw, PL: Today Was A Fairytale / I Think He Knows + The Black Dog / Exile

8/15 London, England UK: Everything Has Changed / End Game / Thinking Out Loud w/Ed Sheeran + King Of My Heart / The Alchemy

8/16 London, England UK: London Boy + Dear John / Sad Beautiful Tragic

8/17 London, England UK: I Did Something Bad + My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys / Coney Island

8/19 London, England UK: Long Live / Change + The Archer / You're On Your Own Kid

8/20 London, England UK: Death By A Thousand Cut / Getaway Car w/Jack Antonoff + So Long, London

[sgtgarricks]

afab!reader

i think john price would be sooo incredibly oblivious to your advances to the point it pisses you off.

imagine you've had a crush on your captain for a few months now, you've dug around information and find out that yes, he is single.

so you get to work.

you smile at him whenever you see him (the only other person you usually smile at is soap). you try to stay later than usual to catch him leaving just so you can have a few minutes of extra conversation with him.

you're kind of touchy (but not too much), brushing your fingers with him whenever you get the chance. whenever you get called into his office, you make sure to crack a joke or two, just to see his eyes crinkle.

you were down bad for him. like, really bad. whenever he even slightly smiles or praises you, you preen like you just won a gold medal and your face feels hot.

so, you genuinely don't understand how he seems so unfazed?? at the very least he should've felt something was up and rejected you if he wasn't into it. but nope, he's still smiling at you, ruffling your hair.

okay, you think maybe you're being too subtle. it's been three months and there isn't any response.

you begin to bring him little gifts. nothing expensive or big, trinkets that would fit in your pocket. a little keychain of a cigar, a pin of his favorite football club, packets of his favorite coffee flavor.

"oh, what's this for then?" he'd asked, glancing at the little keychain.

"nothin'. just saw it and reminded me of you!" you grin happily. he still seems confused, but accepts your gift anyway.

"thank you, that's very kind of you :)" he gifted you one or two items, even going as far to let you ride shotgun on missions. you were feeling fairly optimistic.

this goes on for another three months, you bringing him something once every two weeks. it's gotten to the point where even soap and gaz have realized what's up (simon doesn't give a fuck).

"you got favorites now? don't think we've ever received a gift from 'em gaz." soap loves to make fun of your infatuation with price. gaz doesn't start anything, but he'd gladly chime in.

after half a year, you're pissed off. because how has he not said anything yet?? you thought he was starting to catch your drift but apparently not. he was either leading you on or genuinely thinks you were just being friendly.

you're over the top now, even simon's cringing slightly at you blatantly gushing over the captain.

you were linking your arm with his if you two walked somewhere together (his forehead did the little scrunch from confusion but didn't say anything).

anytime he wanted to show you something, you'd come around and stand as close to him as possible. one time you even put your head on his shoulder to read the document.

even your jokes had gotten more flirtatious without being overtly sexual. yet still... nothing.

you were pissed. you've been throwing yourself at him every chance you got, any more you'd get written up for fraternization. the next time all of you go out for drinks at the pub, you decide it's do or die.

you put on your best dress, one that hugs your figure nicely. you even do your hair and put a bit of make up on. tonight was the night you were either going to have your heart broken or have a good time.

when you open the door to the pub, you know gaz spots you first judging by the drink he just spat. soap turns and whistles, laughing loudly (simon didn't come). you see price is missing, but you find him at the bar ordering drinks. you slink next to him.

"another one for me?" he spins at the sound of your voice, eyes going wide for a fraction of a second. he coughs and brings up another finger to the bartender.

"you look..." he begins, you inch yourself forward to hear him better and shove something in his face. "different." the smile instantly drops from your face. you pull him away from the bar easily (he let you) and drag him outside.

"why are we out here?" he questions innocently. you huff, not believing the audacity of this man in front of you.

"captain. with all due respect, i don't know how many more signs i can give you before i lose my mind. i have my tits out," you gesture at them and his eyes falls downwards before going back to your face, "and you haven't even looked once."

"i like you, you can kiss me right now or tell me to fuck off and transfer me." you cross your arms, lips turning down into a frown. he was in shock, you can almost physically see a loading bar on top of his head.

to your surprise, he cups your face and leans down to kiss you. your heart was thumping and mouth slightly agape, but the only response you could think of was, "were you really that oblivious?"

"sorry, love. i thought you were just trying to ride shotgun." he grins.

what an idiot (affectionate).

notes: ahfudshf my stupid old man <3

[n0tamused]

Okokok so your dragon designs for boothill and Argenti. Could i request them (separately) with a human reader attempting to tend to their wounds after a fight? Perhaps theres some resistance (bc we know they both dont think too highly of themselves and would worry about reader) but eventually relent. Maybe unwillingly, like boothill looses a limb and physically cant take care of the situation himself.

Bonus points for dragon cuddles bc i really want to reassure them they're loved unconditionally 🥲

@dragon-anon

A/n: AAA?! This is so sweet hello? I'm a bit caught of guard/speechless to get a request on these designs but no complaints here ofc. Thank you sm for sending this request in! Let me know what you think :D

Contents: Argenti x GN! Reader, Boothill x GN! Reader, fluff, a bit of angst, dragon Argenti and Boothill, reader is implied mechanic in Boothill's part, petnames (my rose, darling)

Argenti and Boothill as dragons designs here | Ko-Fi

Argenti:

“My fair rose, this is merely a scratch, not even skin deep. You must not fret-” he hisses. “-over such miniscule things”. Smoke rises from his nostrils and his eyes squint as the painful sting of the herbal ointment pinches those delicate nerves of his open wound. 

Not skin deep, yet your armor’s been torn through along with the skin and flesh, you think to yourself, holding your tongue between your teeth. Arguing back against his flowery words and scolding him wouldn't do much good when you're so angry from worry. He had tried to avoid your touch and aid when you first ran up to him after he returned to your city. It was evening, the sun was setting and no one else had seen him approach. You ushered him into the forest he crawled out of, making him duck and lay down, in a way letting the canopy of the tree branches overhead trap him to the mossy ground. His shoulder to his claws was dripping with sticky blood, his scales slick with it and glistening in the light of the fire Argenti so graciously started for you. Your house wasn't too far off, and you think to yourself how much more towels you'll need, water and ointment too.

“I hope you have nowhere else to be. You won't be going, else you want to make this wound worse on yourself.. No- I command you to stay” you told him as calmly as you could once you stepped away from his shoulder, glaring up at the dragon before you. His neck bent so his head could be closer to you, eyes like emeralds stare back at you. It looked as if they grew damp from hurt, shame moreso, your tone has stung him greatly, more than your words. 

“My rose has been angered, I am sorry.. Anger does not suit you” he says, so apologetically you already know what's going through his head. He's already taken all the blame on his wings and shoulders. “I should've tended to my own wounds, like a knight should be capable of. But I've grown selfish… I will do better next time.. Will you forgive me?” The large carriage of his head lowers itself down, sits on the ground, and the large horn in the middle of his forehead still glistens with dry red blood, turning gold and red in the firelight. Your anger dissipates rather quickly, like a fire drenched in water, even if it desperately wanted to burn it no longer had anything to consume to feed its hungry flames. 

“Argenti..” you start with a sigh, wiping your hands with a dry towel as you take steps towards his cheek. His eye follows you cautiously, sliding his head a few steps away, still not letting you touch him as he remains at his most vulnerable. He craves your touch, but he will not let himself be selfish. “Argenti” you say, more firmly this time and hurry to place a palm to his cheek. “... there's nothing to forgive, maybe not- besides this stubborn attitude of yours.. But no, there's nothing to forgive.. But you also have to listen to me too. Your pain brings me pain, even more so when you hide it away from me..” You tell him as your hand strokes his bony, dragon cheek. 

“My… You speak no lie.. Yet I still apologize all the same, for my own peace of mind at the very least” Argenti speaks after a huff rumbles through his throat and through his nose. Warm hands find purchase on the side of his head, one arm extending to find his shiny mane, now disheveled and dirty, but you run your hand through the course locks and press your forehead against his bony cheek. He purrs at the gesture, closing his eyes. 

“Promise me, my great dragon-knight, that you won’t hide your wounds from me?” you ask, giving your words a little lilt, lifting the tension that permeated in the air. He picks up on this easily, but recognizes the importance of the question, and even greater responsibility of his eventual response.

“.. I promise..”

Boothill:

You thought the earth was cracking underneath you once a tremendous shake made you tumble to your feet. So many terrible things ran through your head as you held your hands out to break the fall. There was a large crashing sound accompanying the shake of the earth and a roar followed soon after. That last sound you knew all too well. You weren’t sure what you should be worried about first, yourself, the guy that fell next to you or the idea that it was Boothill who was on the receiving end of a beating. IPC has been swarming the areas lately, looking for something they hid under pampered words or straight up refused to say when asked directly by a few bold individuals.

Getting your bearings together, you made way for the distant hills, the sandy dunes opening up before you like a city of their own, giant rocks stretched out into the belly of the sky like enormous spears. You raced through, following the traces which the sand didn’t swallow up yet, the spillage of oil and blood leading you straight to him. He was sitting on his haunches, his metal plating chirping with each small and irritated movement he made, his nose smoking with pale wisps of hot breath. Bending his neck he picked up the separated limb of his fore leg, the limb separated at the elbow with a few screws bent in the place where it was clearly torn away. There was oil leaking from his chest and sand was sticking to both oil and blood that was coating his body in various places.

“What happened to you? Boothill!” your pace quickened as you caught sight of th giant drake, his eyes focusing on you when his head swiftly perked up in response to your voice. His giant limb was let down to the ground with a thump, and he huffed again to show his irritation. 

“Ugh- you shouldn’t have come out all this way, there as well might be more of those fudgeheads around ‘ere” Boothill spoke, lifting up to his three legs.  

“As if you would let any of them run off. Have they charged at you first? Is that why they’re here, for you?” you shot back, your expression anything but pleasant, your brows meeting tightly at the middle and the corners of your lips falling down as if anvils were hooked onto each one. “Are you hurt?” 

At that, Boothill let out a rough and quick exhale through his nose, shooting out smoke before he bent his neck down again to meet your fierce gaze, swaying a little with the absence of one appendage. “Hurt? Me? You need not worry about that, little one, nothin’ can hurt Boothill” He is in your face when he says it, his nose right before you as his visible eye looks as if it were about to challenge you, you - his brave human companion, to a duel. But there's sadness too. 

You stare back, biting back the tongue that sought to scold him immediately after such a response and instead you reach your hand out to touch him. He moves out of reach, falling back onto his haunches. “It is cold out ‘ere at this time o’ night.. You should have waited till morning came. I would still be here” he says as he pushes some thin dry branches and an old looking, fallen tree together with his nose, sand dropping from his mane in a fine rain as he moves about, lighting a fire for you. 

“I know you won't let me get cold.. Now, let me see what this is. They tore your whole arm out?” you approach the fallen limb that had sunken into the sand due to its weight alone. inspecting the connecting spot, what you’d call an elbow. Wires were cut messily, torn and now dirty with dust and other grime. The screw lay next to it, bent and useless.  “Don’t you have a spare screw on you somewhere?” the wires could be dealt with, at least made to function steadily until you can get replacements.

“Hm- yeah, I got some on me, they should be up on the side. Can’t out here without backup. I was gonna do them on my own, but the forking arm get falling out, I couldn’t get the wires to connect - those are too fine of details for me” Boothill ranted as you already paced up to his side, waiting for him to finish his speech and lay down so you could reach up to a handle that was at the side of his stomach, pulling it down after a twist to reveal a compartment. Mostly mechanical replacements were found inside, and you managed to find a few screws and a deer skin rag for the dirt on the connection. 

“Shouldn’t have charged into that battle. I just know you’ve been too stubborn to move away - wait for a better opportunity at least..” There was no use telling him otherwise, and besides, what’s done is done. “Lift it a bit for me, Boothill, I need to clean it out before I can even attempt to put it back on”

He does as you ask, and now, with his own steely limb in his maw, he can’t say much to you. All he can do is huff and puff at your words as you subtly lecture him on staying safer through expressed words of sadness and worry. You were worried, he has always been hotheaded and you’d rather not have him depart this world because of it. 

“Just.. Please, think before you dive into a fight. Yes, you’re skilled and powerful, flashy, yes, yes - all of it, but think of the people that..care for you. Of me..”  You told him as you were sliding the screws into their respective places, connecting his fore limb to his body. This time you are met with silence instead of a hot aired huff. If you were to say anything more, you’d only be repeating yourself, so you said no more and worked wordlessly.

“There..” You hopped down from his shoulder, carefully stepping lower before jumping to the ground. The distance was small, but it still made you grunt when you landed. The fire had died down by then, hot coals sparking and whispering to each other. 

“Might it be I should be thanking you, darling...?” Boothill had laid his head down as you worked, listening constantly to your surroundings although he feigned sleep. 

“Not before you try moving it. Come, give it a go” you urge him gently, stepping back as you wipe your hands at the side of your thighs. The drake before you rises, balancing his weight all on one side before testing his reconnected leg. His movement is sluggish, choppy even but he succeeds in flexing the claws, taking a few steps and laying back down where he once was.

“Gah… so much today surely exhausts the soul, don’t ya think… mmm.. Thank you for fixing me up, darling, if it weren’t for you I’d be wandering like an ol’ street dog, heh..”

You walk up to the front of him, sighing softly as the adrenaline had long since left room for the ache to settle in your body. Looking up at him from here, you felt nothing short of a kitten between the front limbs of a great mountain dog, a wolf really. One would say the word ‘beast’ best suits him, but he is nowhere near as cruel as one. For all the heart they cut up and plucked from him, they had failed to take away the good nature of his soul.

Boothill notices your silence and sees your faraway gaze and before you can stumble a step, his nose comes up to press against your chest, cautiously almost as if a mere touch would curse you. Wordlessly he asks you questions. In response, your arms go out and flush against his warm snout, your body weight relying on him to keep you upright and he doesn’t move as you give him this odd hug. He wishes he could hug you back, and he could if he meant to crush you.

“Just be careful.. okay?” you mutter, your heavy lidded eyes going up to meet his, his pupil focusing, staring before the heavy eyelid comes down to hide it away, like a curtain. 

“Fine… I’ll do my best, but no promises - you know how the world is.. out there.."

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[babyflorencee]

Stockholm Syndrome

Part one: The shortcut

Links: MASTERLIST

Harry Styles x fem!Reader

I didn't plan to take the alleyway.

It's funny how you don't think about those small decisions—the ones that seem so inconsequential at the time, the ones that only later reveal their consequences, like ghosts you never saw until they begin to whisper in your ear.

But there I was, walking down a narrow alley, my pink dress fluttering behind me, as my gold heels click sharply against the wet pavement. The night had already unfolded into something softer, quieter. The city felt drunk on its own silence, like it was holding its breath for something it didn't want to acknowledge. I felt the silence press against me, as if the world was closing in, wrapping me up in a tight, suffocating, endless, embrace. Everything that felt familiar just hours ago now feels unreal, like a bad dream, the kind that stays with you even after you wake up.

It was 3:00 a.m., the kind of hour where everything feels both impossible and inevitable. 

I had been with my friends—loud and recklessly laughing like we didn't have a care in the world. And in that moment we didn't. Music blaring. Shots that burned a little too hot and a little too fast, but felt good none the less. A few good dances. But somewhere between the last tequila shot and my steps out the bar door, it stopped being fun. The laughter from my girls, the shrieks of excitement, now seemed so faint and hollow like the taste of the cheap wine that was sitting on my tongue. It had all seemed to blur into something unrecognizable. Like I had stepped off a cliff and found myself falling into a space that wasn't quite mine anymore.

I should've just taken the main road. 

I had told myself that. But my mind was clouded, the alcohol still tickling the back of my throat, making everything feel distant and unreal. I just wanted to go home. I missed the quietness of my apartment, the soft sheets of my bed, the soothing comfort of just being alone.

But the alleyway—it was a shortcut.

The air was heavy. Damp, even for a late-night breeze. It carried a smell of wet concrete mixed with something more metallic and old, almost like rust or iron. Or blood. It made my stomach churn a little, but I tried not to let it show. I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders, as if it would keep the night breeze from touching me.

My heels clicked with every step, in a sharp, staccato rhythm, like the sound of a clock ticking down the minutes. Each step echoing off the walls of buildings that loomed like silent witnesses, their windows staring down at me in judgment of my decisions. For a split second, I wondered if anyone else could hear it. If anyone else was listening.

But it was late. The streets were empty. And no one was around.

And I didn't look back. I didn't want to look back.

I had learned long ago that you don't look behind you when you're already walking forward. But that's when it starts, doesn't it? That prickling sensation, the one that creeps under your skin and tells you that you're not alone.

And I felt it.

Not like a passing thought, or like a fleeting worry that can be dismissed. No, this was something that weighed me down. Something that I was aware of, something just beyond the corner of my vision.

I slowed my pace, but only for a moment. There's something about the silence of the night that makes your senses sharper, makes you question everything around you. I glanced over my shoulder, just a quick look I thought, but yet, nothing.

Nothing but the stretch of empty asphalt and the walls of the alley.

I laughed to myself, it was a little shaky, a little hollow. But it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Nothing else.

"You're just being paranoid, y/n." The words came out dry, almost as if they were meant to convince myself that the street was indeed empty. "It's just the wine. That's all."

But the feeling didn't go away. It only deepened. 

And as I turned back, I could feel it again. That weird, heavy feeling. Something was wrong. I didn't know what, but I could feel someone's gaze on my skin, even if I couldn't see it. I knew it was there. I tried to ignore it.

But I couldn't. 

I couldn't ignore that uneasy feeling that was burning inside of me. My heart started to thud, slowly but heavily, like something was crawling under my skin. I took another step, then another. Then I began to walk faster. I wasn't in a hurry or anything, but something inside of me was screaming at me to get the hell out of there. The noise of my heels picking up, the sound growing louder and louder, as if I were trying to outrun the discomfort that was settling in my stomach. But no matter how fast I walked, no matter how hard I tried to push the feeling back, it followed me. 

And then—there it was again. A sound. Just one. A footstep. Light. Almost too soft to be real. But it was there, like someone was stepping on a twig, just behind me.

I froze.

I couldn't stop myself from looking behind me again.

There, just at the edge of my vision, a shape emerged—slight, but it was there. A man—I think— standing a few paces behind, walking with a slow, measured pace, almost like he was trying to give me space.

But space isn't comforting when you don't know who it is that's giving it to you.

The air between us felt thick, like something just waiting to be caught.

I quickened my steps again, trying to breathe past the tightness in my chest, trying to dismiss it. It was just someone on a late-night stroll. Or maybe it was a man wanting to go to the nearest pub to drown out his sorrows. Or maybe he was just heading in the same direction as me.

That's what I told myself. That's what I wanted to believe. 

But the footsteps behind me kept their rhythm, matching mine. Each step falling into sync with mine, like they were wired to keep pace.

It felt like I was being stalked by the darkness itself.

I reached the end of the alley, where the world opened up into the glow of streetlights. The security of the building was just ahead, the front door waiting for me.

Almost there. Just a few more steps. Just a little farther.

I could see the front door of my building from here, the lights beaming from the lobby just ahead. I was almost home. I was almost safe.

I reached for the door handle, the cold metal biting into my palm, and I shoved the door open with more force than I intended to. The building's lobby greeted me with its usual quiet— but safe, familiar feeling.

The security guard didn't even look up from his phone. Clearly unaware of my presence. Or maybe he was just ignoring it.

I'm fine now. I'm safe.

But I didn't feel fine. And I definitely didn't feel safe. And I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was still being watched. That something was still following me, even in here.

I made my way toward the elevator, running now, pressing the button so hard I thought the glass would crack. When the doors opened, I stepped inside, pressing myself into the corner, feeling the walls close in around me.

You're safe now. There's nothing to worry about.

But I couldn't make my body relax. It was like I was trapped in a place between sleep and waking, where things aren't quite real but they aren't exactly an illusion either.

The elevator hummed as it climbed, but the sound didn't soothe me. It just made the seconds stretch longer, feeling like minutes.

I tried to steady my breathing, but I felt like I couldn't. My chest was tight. My body was still too aware of that presence—his presence.

The doors slid open as I reached my floor, and I stepped out, walking quickly toward my apartment. I told myself it was over. I am home now. Safe. But if that's the case, then why do I feel so afraid?

I unlocked the door, stepping inside, and closing it behind me. Making sure that I locked both of the locks on my door. The normal, yet familiar quietness of my apartment surrounded me like a warm blanket. I dropped my purse on the counter, my shoes beside it, before walking towards my bedroom.

I should've felt relieved. But I didn't. I couldn't.

Just as I stepped into my room, something froze me in my place, a chill creeping over me as the blood drained from my face, leaving me pale as if I'd seen a ghost.

My balcony door.

It was wide open.

I don't remember leaving it open. In fact, I know I didn't. I always made sure to close it. I always made sure to double-check it before I left. Always. But tonight...I must've forgotten. I must've.

Or maybe it was the doing of the wind, just the draft that the air carried in.

But either way it was wide open now, the curtains billowing in the breeze.

But I didn't move. Not at first at least.

The night outside was still. The air thick, almost as if it had been holding its breath.

But as I stepped closer to the door, my body stiffened. The faintest sound came from the hallway behind me, the unmistakable sound of footsteps.

Getting closer, and closer, and closer.

My stomach dropped. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I just stood there, frozen, my body refusing to obey my mind.

I slowly turned around, my eyes scanning my surroundings. But nothing.

But as I turned back around, I heard it again. Closer this time.

My pulse quickened, my mouth going dry.

And that's when I heard it. A voice.

Low. Drawling. Barely above a whisper.

"I saw you earlier," it murmured. I didn't turn around, but I could feel the words. They slid down my spine like silk dipped in something more... dangerous. "With your friends. You looked stunning." he breathed out, his voice a slow, velvet drawl, heavy with something darker than desire itself.

I don't dare move.

I don't dare breathe.

As a chill spread through me, cold and deep, like something had reached into my chest and frozen the blood in my veins. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, like they could feel him before I could.

I couldn't make myself turn around. My body refused to obey me, even though I knew he was standing behind me. But then again, did I even want to?

"That dress," he went on, his voice curling around each word like it was secret for only my ears to hear, and maybe—probably— it was. "It makes you look like you're caught in the middle of a dream. A dream that's almost too perfect, too beautiful to be real."

He was standing close enough now that I could feel the heat of his body against my own, there was a darkness that clung to him, threading its way into the air between us.

 "It glitters on you like you're caught in the middle of some kind of spell. Makes you look like something ethereal, something more than just human. Like you're made of light, and y/n I'm drawn to it. Almost like a craving." he said, his words teasing, but with something darker beneath the surface.

I hadn't even told him my name. And the way he said it, almost in a possessive way. Like he owned that name. Or even that he owned me. 

The words curled around me like smoke, thick and suffocating, each one laced with an invitation that I didn't want to accept. His breath was warm against my neck, and the world shrank around me until all I could hear was the thud of my own heartbeat.

"I want you to be mine now, I need you to be mine," he whispered, his voice barely audible, almost like it was a promise and a warning, all in one breath.

The words fell heavy, but with a strange, unholy sweetness. They wrapped around me, tighter than anything I've ever felt. As if they were choking me with something that felt like hunger, something that pulls at me from the inside. I felt them sink into me, deeper than I ever wanted them to.  

And for the first time, I didn't know if I wanted to fight or give in.

Even after a moment, his breath still lingered on my neck, warm and thick, as if it were made to burn into me, to keep me from moving, from thinking, from fighting, from resisting.

My body was frozen, but my mind was scrambling, wild with thoughts I couldn't quite catch, like wisps of smoke that were slipping through my fingers. I couldn't tear my eyes from the door. The wide, open balcony door—just a few feet away from the outside. 

"I'm sorry, but I told you," he whispered, the words teasing now, as if we were no longer strangers. "I need you to be mine." His voice slithered around me, a soft, seductive pull. I couldn't help but wonder: was I already his? Was this what it meant to belong? To feel wanted? To be needed?

I couldn't breathe. The weight of the air pressed against my lungs, thick and unyielding, the walls of my apartment suddenly feeling so small, so claustrophobic.

And then I felt it—his hand, so cool against the back of my neck, his fingers brushing my hair away gently, almost tenderly, before he pressed something soft and cold against my face.

The scent hit me first—a sharp, chemical bitterness, like something that didn't belong in the world I knew. Something like medicine. Like poison.

 I tried to pull away, to scream, to fight, but the air around me went heavier, thicker. It wasn't just the rag anymore—it was the whole room, as if it were closing in on me, folding in on itself, suffocating me. The walls felt closer, the shadows darker, as if they were creeping toward me. My lungs burned. And I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to breathe. My chest felt too tight, too small for the panic that was filling it, and still, the world blurred at the edges, slipping out of focus. My heart thudded against my ribs, a frantic beat that didn't match the calmness laced in his voice.

I gasped, but it was a weak sound, a breath that barely made it past my throat. My limbs—why wouldn't they move? My body felt heavy, slow, like it was no longer mine to command. The rag pressed harder against my nose, the sickly bitter smell seeping into my lungs, coating my throat as a sharp scent coated my tongue. It tasted like metal, like something old and disgusting, and it clawed at my throat, begging to be released.

I tried to pull away once again, but my muscles betrayed me, refusing to answer the frantic commands my brain was sending. The rag was cold. But it wasn't just cold, it felt wrong, like something foreign invading my body, invading my thoughts. I couldn't think straight. The world was slipping—no, falling—away from me.

"You might not remember this, y/n," he murmured, almost soothingly, as his other hand gripped my shoulder, keeping me still, anchoring me put. "But you'll never forget me, I promise. And you're not going to want to."

What does that mean? What does he mean?

I don't know if I'm screaming anymore. I don't even know if I can. My head is spinning. My body is numb. My thoughts are a blur of fragmented images—of the alley, the streetlights, the man behind me, his touch, the rag, and... the door. My balcony door. It wasn't open when I came in. Was it? Was it?

The air feels colder, though. The chill from the night is creeping in around me, seeping through my clothes. But that's not what's cold. It's the feeling. The feeling that I'm no longer in control. The feeling that I'm slipping away from myself.

I struggled against him, against the weight of his arms, against the weight of the darkness pressing down on me, slowly trying to consume me. But my limbs felt numb. 

My mouth was dry. My head spun in lazy, uneven circles. My knees buckled, and I felt his arms catch me, steadying me with a strength that was too calm, too sure for someone who had no right to be near me. He held me close, and I could feel his body heat through my clothes—like fire, but not warmth. It was a dangerous kind of heat.

The air around me felt too suffocating, and I was drowning in it. The more I tried to fight, the more I felt my body betraying me. My vision was slipping—swirling, spinning—like the whole room had turned into liquid, everything blurring into a dream—no, a nightmare that I couldn't escape. No. Please, no. I wanted to scream, but the words stayed lodged in my throat, tangled with the darkness crawling over me.

The edges of the room blur, bend, distort. I know I should move, I should do something, but my body refuses to listen. My feet feel rooted to the floor, and the walls seem to press in around me, their sharp angles becoming soft curves, like the room itself is closing in, folding around me. The faintest sound, a creaking of the floorboards behind me, echoes in my skull, but everything is distant, muffled, like I'm underwater. His voice, still low and whispering in my ear, is the only thing that feels real.

"Just breathe, baby. Just breathe," he cooed, his voice wrapping around me like a soft, cruel lullaby that I didn't want to hear, its sweetness making my skin crawl. "You're safe now. You're mine now. And I won't let anything happen to you." The words were thick with something darker, something I couldn't quite name. He wanted me to breathe, wanted me to take in the poison that was slowly sinking into my lungs, and I could feel myself weakening with every ragged breath I tried to take.

I try to, but the air... it's wrong. Each breath feels like I'm drowning in it, filling my lungs with something dark, something toxic. I can taste it in the back of my throat. It coats my tongue, sticks to the roof of my mouth. My stomach churns, but I can't even make myself gag. My body won't respond.

I could hear him, but the words were now fading. The world was fading. Everything was stretching thin. The air tasted like it had turned to ash, and I couldn't tell if I was hearing him anymore or if it was just my mind echoing back his words to me. The room was now blurred, the edges of reality bleeding into one another like watercolor. 

"You're mine now," he whispered, his voice sinking deeper, darker, wrapping itself around me like a noose. "You're mine." It was a promise. It was a command. It was all I could hear.

I try to call out, try to say something—anything—but my voice is just a rasp, a faint whisper against the storm in my head. My body is betraying me. My limbs feel like they belong to someone else, someone I don't recognize. Who am I anymore?

I should fight. I know that. I should try to run, do anything to get away from him, but my body betrays me. I try to push him away, but my hands are sluggish, like I'm moving underwater. It's all happening too slowly. I can't make sense of it, of what's happening, of the way the world around me is sliding—no, melting—into something that feels like nothing at all. Like I'm falling, but there's nowhere to fall. Like I'm being swallowed by the night, by the silence, by this strange, suffocating fog that's stopping my thoughts.

And then there was nothing. The world stilled. The room went quiet.

But I didn't let myself drift. I couldn't. Not yet at least. Not until I knew what he'd do to me. What he wanted from me.

With the last bit of energy that I could muster up I fought against the heaviness in my limbs, against the pull of darkness closing in on me. But that was no use. Everything seemed to stop. As it had become too much—too much to hold on to. I was losing my grip. I knew I was.

It's too much. I can't breathe. I can't think. The world is fading, and I'm sinking into it, deeper and deeper, like I'm falling into a void.

And then, there's nothing.

Nothing but the dark. Nothing but his voice, his hands, his presence wrapping around me, smothering me, holding me down, until all I can feel is the weight of him,m the weight of surrendering.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice soothing, almost affectionate, but there's a something to it now, a finality. The words hang in the air almost like a trap. But I can't tell for sure.

I felt the unrelenting darkness take over, as the world slipped away entirely. A quiet, suffocating weight filled the space where reality had been, and I let go, not by choice, but because there was no other option. I didn't know where I ended and the darkness began.

I gave in.

"You're mine now," he whispers once again, and the words are an inevitability. A claim that is final, no matter what I do. It doesn't matter if I scream, if I fight, if I beg for help, for mercy. There is no escape.

 I give in. 

I have to.

[tolerateit]

surprise songs so far

17th March - Tim Mcgraw

17th March - Mirrorball

18th March - State of Grace

18th March - This Is Me Trying

24th March - Our Song

24th March - Snow On The Beach

25th March - Cowboy Like Me (with Marcus Mumford)

25th March - White Horse

31st March - Sad Beautiful Tragic

31st March - Ours

1st April - Death By A Thousand Cuts

1st April - Clean

2nd April - Jump Then Fall

2nd April - The Lucky One

13th April - Speak Now

13th April - Treacherous

14th April - The Great War (with Aaron Dessner)

14th April - You're On Your Own, Kid

15th April - Mad Woman (with Aaron Dessner)

15th April - Mean

21st April - Wonderland

21st April - You're Not Sorry

22nd April - Today Was A Fairytale

22nd April - A Place In This World

23rd April - Begin Again

23rd April - Cold As You

28th April - The Other Side Of The Door

28th April - Coney Island

29th April - High Infidelity

29th April - Gorgeous

30th April - I Bet You Think About Me

30th April - How You Get The Girl

5th May - Sparks Fly

5th May - Teardrops On My Guitar

6th May - Out Of The Woods

6th May - Fifteen

7th May - Would've, Could've, Should've (with Aaron Dessner)

7th May - Mine

12th May - Gold Rush

12th May - Come Back...Be Here

13th May - Forever and Always

13th May - This Love

14th May - Hey Stephen

14th May - The Best Day

19th May - Should've Said No

19th May - Better Man

20th May - Question...?

20th May - Invisible

21st May - Red

21st May - I Think He Knows

26th May - Getaway Car (with Jack Antonoff)

26th May - Maroon

27th May - Holy Ground

27th May - False God

28th May - Clean

28th May - Welcome to New York

2nd June - I Wish You Would

2nd June - The Lakes

3rd June - You All Over Me (with Maren Morris)

3rd June - I Don't Wanna Live Forever

4th June - Hits Different

4th June - The Moment I Knew

9th June - Haunted

9th June - I Almost Do

10th June - All You Had To Do Was Stay

10th June - Breathe

16th June - Mr Perfectly Fine

16th June - The Last Time

17th June - Seven (with Aaron Dessner)

17th June - The Story Of Us

23rd June - Paper Rings

23rd June - If This Was A Movie

24th June - Dear John

24th June - Daylight

30th June - I'm Only Me When I'm With You

30th June - Evermore

1st July - I Miss You, I'm Sorry (with Gracie Abrams)

1st July - Ivy (with Aaron Dessner)

1st July - Call It What You Want

7th July - Never Grow Up

7th July - When Emma Falls In Love

8th July - Dorothea

8th July - Last Kiss

14th July - Picture To Burn

14th July - Timeless

15th July - Starlight

15th July - Back To December

22nd July - This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

22nd July - Everything Has Changed

23rd July - Message In A Bottle

23rd July - Tied Together With A Smile

28th July - Right Where You Left Me (with Aaron Dessner)

28th July - Castles Crumbling

29th July - Stay Stay Stay

29th July - All Of The Girls You Loved Before

3rd August - I Can See You

3rd August - Maroon

4th August - Our Song

4th August - You Are In Love

5th August - You're On Your Own Kid

5th August - Death By A Thousand Cuts

7th August - Exile

7th August - Dress

8th August - I Know Places

8th August - King Of My Heart

9th August - New Romantics

9th August - New Year's Day

[cepalliumtm]

Pretty For You

yan!popular girl x gn!reader

CW: yandere tendencies, obsession

a/n: honestly wanted my own take on the yandere popular girl trope. also fun fact: this used to be a yan!pretty boy drabble lol. having a blast with this so just... enjoy. would i do more? i have no idea.

You hated that she was so beautiful. You hated how her smile would light up the room, how her voice sounded like the first day of spring, and how she even had a pleasant aroma. She's the definition of a princess funny how it sounds.

And somehow, she decided her "prince" is you.

You're just another pebble in the sand compared to a polished marble, another face in the crowd. Just like the others, you've had an eye for beauty, albeit you try to find a way to keep it at an arm's distance in fear of breaking it in your hands. You've always accepted that you were a dime a dozen, not particularly outstanding although not ugly. Just plain… you.

Watching what you could call the school idol from across the room, you've accidentally learned about her through passing conversations from your classmates and people passing through the halls. How could you not? Somehow she was the hot topic ever since she transferred, and in your tiny town it was a big deal.

But she wasn't the type you'd pay attention to. The difference in status is just too great, considering that she's the school beauty and you're a nobody.

Perhaps it was pity that caused her to get so attached to you.

You honestly had no clue what you were thinking when you saved her from the other girls that were picking at her, even though you're not exactly the hero type. Something about her looking pathetic like that, teary eyed and helpless, possibly irritated you to the point where you had to do something. You really should've only passed her by.

Because she has a bad habit of latching onto things too hard.

Now, the school idol follows you around like a lost puppy, begging for your attention like a dog would for their treat. You probably could've gotten away with trying to teach her tricks too. Like 'stay', or 'sit', or 'keep away from me'. You probably should've, given her tendencies. But looking into her sweet and pathetic stature, and how could you do anything else?

Her sweet demeanor is literally draining you of your energy. Your friends feel it too.

And it doesn't help that she's as beautiful as a princess. Your very own princess.

You're suffocating under the expectation of being the best already. Even before she bested you in terms of popularity, looks, and now she sweettalks the teachers to improve her grades, and it works. Even budging the most hardened of hearts is her specialty, no sweat.

Imagine your shock that wow, of course she's also rich. How else could she have the time to maintain her looks? Just looking at what she has makes you sick; you almost want to strangle her and drown her in the piles of gold, bathe her in the sweetest of poisons, hoping her pretty face would be tainted by the bruises left from your touch.

All. For. You.

And she smiles. Smiles at all the love she can provide for you. Maybe she's impressed you so much that you'd want to stay with her, be with her forever. After all, she's been so lonely; she's never had anyone else over. And now you… if she could have you, she would trade in everything else in the world. There's nothing for you to be envious over.

It's all for you if you just accept her.

And you couldn’t. Not at all. Not after all the pain and suffering you've given her. Not after all the time you spent, neglecting her because you couldn't stand her face. Not when she manipulates the situation around her to her advantage against you. You're sick of all of it. There's nothing more you want to do than to call it off.

Of course, she cries. Begs for you to reconsider. Makes a scene so the other students could see how much of a bully you're being. How bad of a friend you've been to her. All your bad deeds, your jealous thoughts and your struggle to surpass her when from the snap of her fingers she's handed anything she wants, it all floods back to you. And you know if you reject her again, there's no telling what she would do.

A princess always gets her happily ever after, with everything she wanted and the prince of her dreams. Can't you be hers?

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 . ( a collection of dialogue prompts from the film the hobbit : the battle of five armies . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

he hit it ! he hit the dragon .

his arrows cannot pierce its hide . i fear nothing will .

we cannot turn back .

[ name ] ! what are you doing ? you were supposed to leave !

i came to help !

who are you that would stand against me ?

now that is a pity . what will you do now ?

you are forsaken .

you cannot save him from the fire .

tell me , wretch , how now shall you challenge me ?

you have nothing left ... but your death .

[ name ] . look at me . you look at me .

you are not alone , [ name ] .

[ name ] , come on , we're leaving .

they are your people , they must go .

i know how i feel , i'm not afraid .

i don't know what that means .

keep it . as a promise .

that is where you are wrong .

i'll catch my death in this cold .

it's all right , darling .

i have said it many times , this is a man of noble stock .

i'm not the master of this town . where is he ?! where's the master ?!

enough ! look around you . have you not had your fill of death ?

winter is upon us . we must look to our own .

we must look to our own . to the sick and the helpless .

those who can stand , tend to the wounded .

we must salvage what we can .

i tried talking to him , he won't listen .

he doesn't sleep , he barely eats ... he's not been himself .

it's this place ... a sickness lies upon it .

behold the great treasure hoard of [ name ] .

no one rests until it is found .

take only what you need . we have a long march ahead .

we can take refuge inside the mountain .

what gold is in that mountain is cursed .

we will take only what is promised to us .

you saw something out there .

they bore a mark i have not seen in a long time .

[ name ] , it is your king's command .

i command my own heart .

spells will not save you .

i am not alone .

you should've stayed dead .

do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here ?

dragon sickness . i've seen it before .

it is a fierce and jealous love , [ name ] .

perhaps it is best it remains lost .

i'm going to plant it in my garden .

it's a poor prize to take back to [ location ] .

there's gold enough in that mountain for all .

get some fires going .

[ name ] , you take the night watch .

do not tell me what they have lost .

i know well enough their hardship .

they have much to be grateful for .

the children , the wounded and the women come first .

all quiet , nothing to report .

we did not look to see you here .

i heard you needed aid .

i came to reclaim something of mine .

i ask that you honor your pledge .

i will not treat with any man while an armed host lies beyond my front door .

be gone , ere our arrows fly !

this does not concern you .

we are , in fact , outnumbered .

we attack at dawn . are you with us ?

true friends are hard to come by .

i have been blind , but now i begin to see .

i have been betrayed .

[ name ] , the quest is fulfilled .

is this treasure truly worth more than your honor ?

this gold is ours , and ours alone . by my life , i will not part with a single coin .

i will not part with a single coin . not . one . piece of it .

you started this , [ name ] . you will forgive me if i finish it .

i'm not doing it for you .

i'm not afraid of [ name ] .

how came you by this heirloom ?

they are taking us for fools . this is a ruse . a filthy lie .

you would steal from me ?

i may be a burglar , but i'd like to think i'm an honest one .

you have no claim over me , you miserable rat .

i was going to give it to you .

you are changed , [ name ] .

do not speak to me of loyalty .

did you not hear me ? [ location ] is surrounded .

life is cheap . but treasures such as this cannot be counted in lives lost . it is worth all the blood we can spend .

you are lesser now than you have ever been .

i will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us !

it is not in my blood , [ name ] .

will you follow me ... one last time ?

what took you so long ?

this was their plan all along .

i think [ name ] has fled .

keep low and out of sight . if you see something , report back — do not engage , do you understand me ?

don't be ridiculous , you'll never make it .

they'll see you coming , and kill you .

they'll never see me .

i'm not asking you to allow it , [ name ] .

you will not turn away . not this time .

today , tomorrow , one year hence , a hundred years from now . what does it matter ? they are mortal .

there is no love in you .

what do you know of love ? nothing .

you think it is love ? are you ready to die for it ?

we'll live to fight another day .

you will die last .

don't move , don't move . lie still .

i wish to part from you in friendship .

you're not going anywhere , [ name ] , you're going to live .

you did what only a true friend would do . forgive me . i was too blind to see it .

i'm so sorry that i have led you into such peril .

i'm glad to have shared in each of your perils , [ name ] .

go back to your books , and your armchair . plant your trees , watch them grow .

if more people valued home above gold , this world would be a merrier place .

i cannot go back .

[ name ] ... your mother loved you . more than anyone . more than life .

they want to bury him .

if this is love , i do not want it . take it from me , please . why does it hurt so much ?

songs will be sung , tales will be told .

well , i think i'll slip away quietly — can you tell the others i said goodbye ?

you can tell them yourself .

if any of you are ever passing [ location ] , tea is at four . there's plenty of it , you are welcome at any time .

it's here i must leave you .

i quite liked having a wizard around .

don't take me for a fool .

i've kept my eye on you ever since .

i'm not dead . presumed or otherwise .

[twst-drabbles]

Dire 10

Summary: As usual, Dire is procrastinating his search for the way to your home. Honestly, you'd usually just settle for some verbal threatening, but clearly that's not working. You decided to go a bit physical this time.

(Nothing graphic, the Janitor isn't beating him to a pulp so no blood. Just pushing him around until he falls over and pressing their shoe against his neck. You know, that kind of stuff. Oh and someone walks in.)

"So, about that progress." You almost closed the door too hard behind you, but still the noise was enough to make Dire hunch his shoulders. "Your research. How's it going?"

"W-whatever could you mean?" Dire faced his body towards you, but his eyes were nervously scanning the wall off to the side, fanning himself with those fancy, practically glittering claw rings of his. "I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"…you're fucking with me." It's been months since you've had an update of any kind regarding the subject. You made sure not to be insistent upon it, demand update after update because you didn't know shit about advanced magic. You've barely managed to catch up to the current level that the first years know! You have enough base knowledge to know that it's not easy stuff, so you always give Dire leeway when he looks away and mumbles his excuses.

…but now he's pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about. He's not tentatively giving you an excuse, he's trying to stay out of it entirely. Playing up his birdbrained self.

He's procrastinating.

"Well, if you're not clear then…" Dire's mouth grew tinier and tinier as you marched towards him, "what are you doing?"

Why do you even bother with this headmaster? Of course you should've known better than to give him that many olive branches.

"Now now, there's no need to get violent," Dire practically shrank into himself as you got closer and closer. Rather than attempt to run away, he tried to protect his body with his coat. "H-how about I give you extended vacation days?! O-or even a higher raise and an added bonus on top of that?! Oh but if that's not enough than I can easily procure some interesting magical artifacts if that's to your--oh!"

You seized his shoulder and forced him to face you, the gold lights of his eyes nothing more than shaking pinpricks. "Clearly I'm not getting through your thick head."

Then, you kicked his feet and let him tumble to the floor, his hat rolling away, revealing messy black hair. Before he could scramble his way back up, you slammed your foot just above his shoulder. He froze, and that was all you need to press the heel of your shoe against his bobbing throat.

Now Dire can no longer look away from you. His face blossomed into a bright red flush as his hands cradled your ankle, no gripping or pushing away. Good. He knows when to behave when you're well and truly pissed.

"Honestly, I'm starting to think you're craving this," you dug your heel in deep for a second, smiled at the choking Dire before you, "Is that why you've stopped giving a shit about finding a way to my home? You wanna pretend you don't know anything, just so I can tear off that incompetent head of yours?"

"I-If you would j-ju--"

"I didn't say you could breathe." You stepped down harder, fully cutting off his breath and watching as he flailed about. But still, he didn't push your off. No magic, no incantations. Nothing. "You want my respect Dire? Perhaps even my favor? Then keep your end of the deal."

Just as you lightened the weight off your foot, the door to Dire's office slammed open.

"Headmage Crowley, I'm here with the documents Kalim forgot to send yester--huh." Jamil walked right in, paused by the scene unfolding before him. You with your foot still on Dire's throat, eyes thinned into a glare that never failed to grip a small part of Jamil's insides hostage, and Dire, gasping, shivering and flushing like he was a bug pinned down by needles.

For a moment, Jamil's face contorted into a horrified expression, but was quick to school himself back into his seemingly mild-mannered self with a cough. He frowned and sent a glare to the both of you as the tips of his ears turned red. He opened his mouth, as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Jamil's jaw closed with a click, massaged his temples, and exited the room.

Any other day, this would amuse you. Well, actually it still does, because there's nothing more fun than messing with someone who insists on keeping everything inside until they explode, but Dire is still here and you're not done yet.

"So, what do you have to say?"

"…I'll continue looking for a way home," Dire conceded.

"Glad you see things my way."