#people say they’re toxic so keeping it quiet for now

[mashedpotatosinacup]

WRITING MORE SCREAM S/I LORE RAHHH

[darnell-la]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ)

pairing: project x!logan howlett x government employee!reader

warnings: toxicity, confusion, no confection, hard to get, trapping, neck kisses, making out, choking, breaking in, blood, animalistic activities, emotions, etc.

note: Logan would burn the world if the person he loved died.

We’ll try to give you guys more action in part four. Hope you guys are keeping up!

———

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Logan called the school for the gifted, telling him he needed time to process what he went through.

Of course, Logan was lying. After that night with y/n, she was trustworthy. She had run away, disobeyed him, and yelled at him, but at the end of the day, she curled up next to the man who had just put her in her place.

Logan had to work hard with the young lady. Making her breakfast every day as well as lunch in dinner was light work. She had to eat, so she still tried escaping for the first week.

After a while, Logan brought her things back from the small town where they now lived. Y/n told herself she eased into the man only because he grew to move towards her instead of giving her punishments anytime she pissed him off, but in actuality, she loved the punishments more.

Logan was confused about why she lashed out at him one night. It had been weeks, and out of nowhere when he finally had the guts to make a small living move, she slapped him.

He let it slide for a second, but she kept swinging and yelling at him, telling him to let her go and that his sex wouldn’t keep her.

After she mentioned how he fucked her, he smirked, knowing that she grew onto the man. “Just say you want me to fuck you again, Bub,”

Y/n had finally convinced Logan to call the school for gifted, asking to meet and talk about what goes on under the grounds of the government.

Logan and y/n still go at it at times. Logan has always had a temper, so when y/n matched his, he couldn’t take it.

She hadn’t tried running away for a while, but her mouth never had an off day. Even though it was known y/n had something for Logan after being forced to stay with him, she still acted out.

“Get yourself dressed before the company gets her, alright?” Logan said, about to turn around and leave, but y/n kept arguing. “I’m leaving with them, and that’s that,” Y/n said, making the man chuckle loudly.

“You won’t goin’ nowhere, woman,” he said as he quickly stalled towards her until she backed up and hit the corned between him and the wooden wall in the kitchen.

“You’re gonna keep your pretty mouth closed, act right, and speak about what they’re doing to those people you so-called care about now, and that's the only thing you talk about,”

“You can’t stop me from leaving, Logan,” she said, making the man wrap his huge hand around her neck, tightening it until she gasped for air.

“You’re just talking out of your ass, right now, y/n, and you know it,” Logan said through his teeth. “I’m not — I-If you were nicer, maybe I’d invite you to come with me, but you’re not. We c-can’t work,”

Y/n knew that even though Logan was a hothead and had mental issues, she’d stay around to help him. After what she allowed to happen to him, she wanted to help him. She needed to help him.

“Oh, we can’t work together, Bub?” Logan asked as he pressed his body against hers, using his free hand to grip her waist. “Huh, Bub, we can’t work together?” He repeated with a heavy breath.

“Tell that to your cunt,” Logan spat in the girl's ear, speaking a shiver down her spine. He knew every inch of her body. She couldn’t hide herself.

Y/n kept quiet as the man tugged on her clothes, stripping her until she was only in her bra and panties. “My fuckin’ cunt. You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Bub,” Logan said in the crook of y/n’s neck before sucking.

Y/n moaned low, hand quickly coming up to run through the man’s hair. She knew she’d stay with the man, and he did too. The love language they had was confusing, but they could live with it.

“Taste too good to be bitchy every second of the day,” Logan pulled back, lips now inches from her own. “Maybe work on your grumpiness, and I’ll be better,” the young lady smirked.

“But you love me this way, and you know it. always want me to fuck you hard and rough — Put you in your place — Put you to sleep,” the man smirked back, knowing she’s passed out plenty of times from how rough he handled her.

“Maybe,” she said before both of them leaned in, smashing on each other’s lips. Their kisses were always rough, wanting to get any frustration and confusion out.

Logan went to pick y/n up until he heard a noise outside. Y/n didn’t hear anything, so she kept kissing the man, trying to crawl on him but he pulled back.

“Hold on, baby,” Logan said, knowing he had heard something. “They wouldn’t be here yet, right, baby?” Logan asked, talking about the professor from the school.

“No, I don’t think so,” y/n said as Logan placed his hand out behind him, telling g her to stay back. “Go get the shotgun, baby,” Logan said, making y/n’s heart drop.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” someone said in the house, making y/n jump, and Logan turn around as he brought out his claws. He recognized that voice.

“Electronic locks wouldn’t stop me, James. I thought you better than that,” the man said. Logan went to attack the man for being here and the closest to y/n, but after red dots showed up on her stomach, he stopped.

“Remember who can regenerate here,” the man said. Logan felt his heart sink, afraid they might shoot her over him. “Good boy,”

“Now, how about you come back with us. Finish what I started,” the man said. “He’s not going back,” y/n quickly interrupted. “Y/n, no,” Logan said, knowing what the man was capable of.

“Listen to your lover while you can,” the man whispered. “What do you mean?” Logan asked. The man stayed quiet and y/n grew confused.

“What do you mean by that?” Logan asked again, keeping his claws out as he tightened his fists. “We can’t take her back. We don’t need her anymore and — She knows too much,”

“W-What?” Y/n said, feeling her eyes water. “You lay a hand on her, and I’ll kill you,” Logan growled. “You never learn, Logan,” the man said before he snapped his fingers.

A gun went off, making Logan jump, thinking they shot at him, which would be stupid. That’s when he scanned y/n’s body.

“You son of a bitch!” Logan went to attack but was shot with a shocker, causing his body to lock up and twitch on the ground.

Logan tried getting up, but they repeatedly shocked him, forcing the man to stay on the ground.

Y/n’s body fell to the ground, hard, almost knocking her out at the way her head hit the floor.

“No! No, y/n! Y/n!” Logan yelled with cracks in his voice. He was in pain, but he needed to get to y/n. “No, you- Stop! Stop!” Logan began to cry as he watched y/n leak on the ground.

She blinked slowly, mouth slacked, and trying to breathe. “Stop!” He cried as the man walked towards him. “A weapon doesn’t need distractions,”

Logan’s growl grew animalistic, almost like he was ready to bite someone’s face off. The man snapped his hands again for his people to grab the man and drag him out of the house.

“No! No! Y/n! Y/n!” He couldn’t stop yelling as he looked back at the woman losing consciousness. Before the man opened his mouth again, he was dropped and the men holding him were thrown across the house.

Logan looked around to see what was happening. Bodies flew everywhere and men screamed. This was a job from another mutant.

“Hank, get the girl, and Jean help him out. Storm, start the chopper back up,” that was Charles's voice. Logan held a bit of relief, but he was still terrified for y/n.

“S-She’s human! S-She can’t take that gullet in her for too long,” Logan said as Charles rolled over to the man with a woman. The woman lifted her hand and took out the shockers that were stuck on his back.

“Hey, hey! Don’t hurt her,” Logan said as he walked over to Hank who was just about to pick y/n up. Logan retracted his claws before picking y/n up slowly, making sure he didn’t hurt her.

“Stay away, baby. We’ve got help,” Logan said, seeing y/n trying her best, but it was hard. Logan quickly exited the house and went into the chopper, seeing y/n down on a table that came out of the wall.

“She’s lost a lot of blood — Jean, knock her out,” Charles said. “Hey, no! No knocking out here!” Logan had turned around, taking his claws back out at what was suggested.

“It’s to slow her heart down so she’s not pumping too much blood. It’s the best we can do right now, Logan,” Charles said.

Logan took a deep breath, taking a look at everyone in the chopper before slowly retracting his claws again.

“Hurt her, and I’ll kill you all,” Logan threatened. “We won’t hurt her,” Hank assured as Jean walked over to y/n and placed a hand on her head until she slowly slipped to sleep.

Logan stood next to her the whole flight, making sure nothing unusual was happening to her. He had taken his tank top off to cover her half-naked body, trying to comfort her even though she was knocked out.

The man was scared, stressed that he could’ve brought this upon y/n, but the more he thought about it, the more he understood that once they were done with her, they would’ve killed her anyhow.

Logan punched the wall at the thought of that. To the thought of someone killing his girl. Y/n was a sweet soul and deserved none of this. If she doesn’t make it, he won’t know what to do with himself.

Escaping and taking her with him was a plan he had thought about for a month straight. It didn’t take long for her to grow on him. He fell hard before he had even spoken a word to her. He loved her. He loves her.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ...

[prince-jjae]

heh, so for kinktober or just a regular fic atp. Can u do toxic relationship w/ yeonjun. Like reader and yeonjun are in a situationship and yeonjun says that him and reader can’t have any strings attached if they’re just gonna have sex. But like reader rlly doesn’t care so they just keep having one night stands with random people at the club. And one day, yeonjun catches her and gets jealous and BOOM raw sex. But then angst bc reader says he doesn’t love her so they’re free to hit on whoever they want. So they argue and reader never sees yeonjun again. BUT LIKE IF U DON’T WANNA MAKE THIS ANGST THEN U CAN MAKE IT A HAPPY ENDING :3 heh, my brain is going brr brr rn. Ok ty! 💕

Escapism.

mdni, nsfw!!

pairings: choi yeonjun/reader

genre: smut, angst. hurt/no comfort??

warnings: fwb?yeonjun, meandom!yeonjun, mentions of beomgyu, mentions of club bathroom sex (Dont!), name calling (slut, whore, etc), unprotected sex (Dont! pt2), gender neutral reader but they have feminine anatomy, jealousy, anger, kinda dubcon if you think too hard about it, player!reader, if i forgot any lmk!

jjae's comments: this is.... insane. I sat down to write this thinking itd be like.. 1k? around the same length of my other fics? but no... welcome to 3k words of pure smut and sadness. i made yeonjun a lot more pathetic in this fic than i think the ask originally intended, but i hope it still reads well!! enjoy!

“No strings attached.” he had said. No strings attached. If that's what he wanted, then why was Yeonjun acting this way? He hadn't the faintest idea, but the sight of you dragging a puppy-looking guy to the bathroom with your finger hooked into the front of his jeans made his chest cave in.

He thought this was a good idea, months ago. Back when you were only focused on him with your puppy-crush. Maybe it was the power he held over you back then that convinced him to do this. The strength he had over your every move made his head too foggy with desire to see the fatal error of his ways. Back then you seemed like just a nerdy college student, out of place and quiet. Just his type. He was glad the work of approaching you had been done for him, smirking at the board with your name scrawled next to his. ‘Just how cliche would this get?’ He wondered at the time. It was practically fate. He spent weeks breaking through your cold and bitter exterior, dead-set on tasting the sweet softness that he knew you kept well-hidden. It was the thrill of the chase. The promise of something forbidden, off-limits. Sure, he could give any excuse he wanted, but getting into your bed with you was always his goal. You were a sweet poison, he soon found. You were the sweetest of nectars, yet shockingly deadly. He was in bed with you, his plush lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your heated skin. He drank in the quiet whimper you let out when his teeth scraped at you with the sharp promise of his canines marring your soft skin. 

“No strings attached.” He had whispered to you huskily, and you dumbly nodded along, eager to please so he would keep going. So he would consume you like the fire you knew he was. He said it more for his own sake than yours, he thought. He knew from the first time he had you under him, obscene sounds coming from where your hips collided, mouth spilling rivulets of drool around his fingers which pressed and prodded at your tongue, that he was thoroughly fucked. 

But now, after months of being your.. What was the right word for it? Was this a situationship? Was he your friend-with-benefits? You two had never talked about it. Hell, you hardly did anything more than moan into each other's mouths and skin. Neither of you were next to one another by the time the sunshine graced your apartment windows. He knew better, now. If he was going to continue drinking in your poison by the mouthful, he needed to be careful. Precise, even. 

Yeonjun sighed, watching you go as he swirled the drink in his hand. You didn’t know he was there. You didn’t even see the text he had sent you 2 hours prior on your phone, you were too busy scanning the crowd. He had texted you the second he walked through the doors into the club he knew you frequented. He was perhaps a little desperate to see you, but he would never tell you as much. Hell, it was hard to even admit it to himself. He craved you like he craved air. 

But you didn't care. You didn't even react to the buzzing in your pocket, sharp eyes intent on finding your next victim. This club was your web, and you were a black widow. He hadn’t known it when he stumbled into your trap all those months ago, but you were vicious. You took control of him like a possession, the thrum of your power over him was buzzing under his skin constantly. Your kiss was a brand, ruining him for anyone or anything else. 

The great player, Choi Yeonjun, reduced to a simpering, desperate boy. How far he had fallen in pursuit of you.

He recognized the man you had picked - your victim for the night - as Choi Beomgyu. He was a friend of Yeonjun’s, actually. They bickered a lot, but they got along well enough. He recalls mentioning you to him before.. Had Beomgyu sought you out because of him? The thought made his stomach churn. Jealousy cut through him like a searing hot knife, the jagged edge catching his anger in just the right way. His eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door, sipping away at his drink the entire time you occupied it. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what you were doing in there, but he needed to see it. He needed to know that you were really doing this. 

He had no right to be jealous, he knew that. Rationally, realistically, this was none of his fucking business. He was the one who suggested you two wouldn’t be exclusive. Why should he be upset now that his own words were haunting him. Was it because he never expected to get this attached? Or was it the realisation that you didn’t feel the same? It was obvious that you didn’t care for him the way he cared for you. He could live with that, he thought. He could live with you not loving him back, but seeing you sneak off with someone new right before his very eyes? This was an anger he was unfamiliar with. He was never on the receiving end of this. Perhaps this was karma, finally catching up to him and providing him the pain he usually dished out freely. Perhaps he deserved this.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, makeup smudged and clothes wrinkled, his heart plummeted to the floor. He glanced behind you, watching Beomgyu walk out with a dazed look in his eyes, shirt halfway undone and hair a mess. You loved pulling on his hair when he gave you head, He thought. The memory of him being the one between your thighs finally snapped the cord in him. 

He slammed his drink down onto the table next to him, ignoring the way the other patrons flinched at the loud crack the glass made against the worn wood. He was already halfway across the floor. You didn’t even notice him until he was on you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the club with the shadow of his rage hanging over him like a cloud. He barely registered you tugging at his arm, trying to get him to let you go, trying to ask him what was going on. Your questions fell on deaf ears. He was on a mission as he dragged you to his apartment for the first time, only a few minutes walk away from the club.

He was going to prove he was better. No one else could have you the way he could. 

Yeonjun liked to believe that he was a gentle lover. That he could be mean when it was required or requested of him, but for the most part, he was a giver. Full of plush words and promises that usually held no actual weight. A phrase echoed in his mind at that, something about truth being singular, and lies being words, words, words. In that case, Yeonjun guessed he was a liar of a lover. It tracked, if he really thought about it. Like now, when he had you pressed into the door the second you two were beyond the threshold, kissing you like a man starved. His hands were possessive, gripping onto your flesh wherever he could. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove- actually, scratch that. He did know. He wanted to erase every memory of Beomgyu’s touch, He wanted to burn it away with his own until only his touch remained on your skin. 

You weren't sure where this animalistic side of Yeonjun came from, but you hardly had it in you to complain. You should probably push him away, demand answers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. The knowledge of this made yeonjun grin against your neck before sinking his teeth into the soft junction between the column of your throat and your shoulder, pulling a pleasured scream from your lips. He practically growled against the skin, fingers trailing down to push aside the skimpy shorts you wore. 

“You let him finish inside?” He grit out, fingers sliding easily through your soaked core. The sound of Beomgyu’s cum leaking onto Yeonjun’s hardwood floor should have made you embarrassed, but instead of shame burning through you, only lust remained. You shivered, nodding at Yeonjun like a bobblehead, mind swirling in the wake of his rough handling of you. He just laughed, but the chuckle he released was devoid of humour. He was angry. You let him fill you? Did you let anyone else do the same?

“Dirty fucking thing.” He spat at you before hauling you up, legs around his waist. He carried you to the bed, flinging you unceremoniously onto the covers. You were still bouncing on the mattress from the sheer force he used to toss you onto it when he descended on you. He was all tongue, teeth and rage as he practically tore your clothes off of you. He hardly gave you any space to breathe, let alone think. Your mind was a useless puddle of mush as he manhandled you, adjusting your body the way he wanted. By the time you could gather the mental presence it took to move your eyes downward, His breath was already fanning hotly at your still-sore cunt. Your eyes widened comically, but he only laughed at you before diving in and eating you with the crazed frenzy of a man who had never eaten before in his life. He had to clean you, had to rid you of any evidence of his friend. You had to become pure again, only for him to defile you himself, make you his the way you had made him yours. He had to show you, even if he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Surely, you'd understand, right? You understood him. He was sure of it.

Your hands instantly tangled in his silky locks, tugging harshly enough to pull a hiss from his lips the second his tongue made contact. You squealed, body still sensitive from your previous orgasm with Beomgyu, but Yeonjun didn’t care. He wasn't doing this for pleasure, he was doing this to make a point. To make you his. He ate you with fervor, a mix of your arousal, Beomgyu’s release and Yeonjun’s drool making his face a fucking sopping mess. It dripped onto the sheets below, but he paid it no mind, allowing you to rock your hips desperately on his tongue and nose as he worked you up again. You were sobbing, fat tears streaming down your face and clumping your pretty lashes together. All he could think about while you bumped your swollen clit against his nose was how badly he wanted to ruin you once he was done. Your wails and pleas fell on deaf ears. He had no plans on slowing down, giving you any breaks. You had teased him enough, he thought, parading around with Beomgyu’s cum still stuffed inside you. He was intent on replacing it with his own. When you finally came, sobbing out his name into the silent, cold air of his apartment, you collapsed, boneless onto the sheets. Your hand clasped at your naked chest, sweat cooling your skin as you scrambled to catch your breath. You couldn't remember a single time when Yeonjun behaved like this, did things like this, ate you like this. Sure, he loved having you on his tongue, but he was always so sweet, drawing out every little hum and movement out for your pleasure. This shift in his demeanour left you confused, for sure, but you found it so hot that you couldn't stop to ask any questions. Your eyes flew open again, desperately clawing at his arms when he shifted your body again. He lifted you with ease, flipping you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing. 

“Can't- jjunnie, please!” You cried, voice slightly muffled by the pillow he shoved your face into. He just sneered down at you, dragging his drooling cock through your soaked folds. He had no mercy for you, not anymore. He leaned down, smirking at the way your breath stuttered when the head of his cock caught your entrance. The feeling of his hot breath on your skin paled in comparison to the mean words he spat into your ear. 

“You’ll fucking take what I give you, slut.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to feel any shame at his words. In fact, you revelled in them, pushing your hips back against him. It caught him by surprise, and you were so wet that he sunk into you with ease with that simple movement alone. A punched out groan fell from his pouty lips, one of his hands gripping your hip in a bruising hold. You were sure his fingertips would leave bruises for you to press on by tomorrow morning. 

“God- You’re so fucking desperate, arent you? Just got your pussy stuffed with cum and you're already begging for more?” He laughed, the sound mean and cruel in your ears as he set a brutal pace. You were so slick that the sounds that reverberated in yeonjuns bedroom was fucking obscene. You felt filthy, dirty, used- and you loved it. You weren’t sure how, but Yeonjun could tell. You knew he could. Maybe it was the way your walls fluttered helplessly around his fat cock, spearing into you with no mercy that gave you away. It didn’t matter, though. You hardly had the mental presence to care about anything beyond the way he stretched you out so so well. “Look at you, fucking pathetic. So eager for dick. Do I not give you enough? Huh? Do I need to stuff you full every hour of the day for you to be satiated?” 

All you could do was claw at his sheets, nodding pathetically along to his words. He scoffed, reaching up to grab your chin and forcing your mouth open. “Speak, whore.” 

You scrambled for words, but the syllables fell through your fingers like grains of sand. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, reminiscent of a fish out of water, before you finally managed out something akin to verbal language.

“Need- please- more- jjunnie-!” Your voice quickly dissolved into a chorus of pornographic ah, ah, ah-’s, and it sent a thrill through Yeonjun’s body. He was doing this to you. In this moment, right here in his bedroom, you were his. He shoved his fingers into your still open mouth, keeping your head thrown back as his hips ploughed into your sopping heat from behind. His thrusts were so intense they were punishing, sure to leave you sore and wobbly on your feet for days. Thinking about you stumbling around, needing his help to walk only made him growl and fuck you harder. He was far too drunk on you, on your moans, on your pussy. He couldn’t help himself.

“Need-? Getting fucked so good you cant speak, huh? Don’t worry, baby.” He grinned, but the smile was sharp and cheshire. It held no warmth for you, not that you could care or open your eyes long enough to even see it. You could feel it in his words, though, in the way he nibbled at your earlobe before shoving you down into the pillows again. “Daddy’s got you.”

He was entirely right, really. You were fucked positively stupid on his dick. You couldn’t deny that. In fact, you wouldn't. “Daddy-” you whined, voice barely audible over the lewd sounds of Yeonjun’s cock sinking into you and his hips snapping against the plush of your ass. “‘s fucking good- fuck!”

Yeonjun let out a breathless laugh before he pulled out of you. You hardly had time to whine at the loss, the aching empty feeling he left you with, before you were being moved again. Now you were on your back, and before you could even get your vision to focus on him, Yeonjun was already balls-deep in you again. With your head thrown back in bliss, throat bared for him, he couldn’t help but sneak down and leave angry, splotchy hickeys along your soft skin. 

“That’s right, baby- fuck… take it. Take it. Gonna fill you up better than he did- fuck!” His hips were beginning to stutter, but his mouth kept running. He was dissolving into horny babble, but he had the presence of mind to sneak his hand down, fingers drawing rough circles on your clit that had you spasming underneath him. 

He had slept with you enough times to know your tells, to know when you were going to finish. The way your head fell back, eyebrows drawn up, pretty lips making that pretty ‘o’ shape- the way you fluttered around him wildly, trying to milk him dry- you were close. He knew it. Just a few more thrusts, a slight change in angle and-

God, you were so beautiful when he had you like this, crying his name again, nails clawing uselessly against his back and leaving angry marks that he loved. 

“That’s it, baby- shit. Take it, slut. Fucking take it-!” He gripped your hips firmly in both hands, using them to move you on him. It made his thrusts hit deeper, and- God, were you squirting? If anything, the revelation only made him rougher with you despite your protests that you couldn’t take it, that you needed him to slow down. He wouldn’t, though. You knew he wouldn't. He only grabbed you harder, cock slamming into your cervix in a way that made you wince before he finally filled you, pressed as deeply into you as he could manage. He pressed into you over and over, as if trying to force his seed even deeper into you. As if he could fuck it right into your little womb. 

After a few more mean thrusts, you began to squirm and whine in his grip. Only then did he snap out of his jealousy-filled rage, looking into your eyes with his own so wide and pretty. There he was, that was closer to the Yeonjun you remembered. You smiled lazily at him, lifting your arms to him. With no prompting, he fell into your embrace. He peppered kisses along any skin he could reach, sighing happily into your skin when your fingers ran through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he liked. You chuckled, but made no move to push him away. That was all he needed for hope to bloom in his chest again. You understood him, right? You knew what he was trying to do, what he needed. He needed you. He needed you more than air. He looked at you expectantly, hoping that you would say what he did not have the courage to. 

But you didn’t say anything. 

You didn’t say anything when he cleaned you up. You didn’t say anything when he carefully brought you to the bath he drew for you. You didn't say anything when he gently scrubbed your body. You didn’t say anything when he helped you back into your clothes. 

You only opened your mouth to deny him when he suggested you sleep over. He didn’t know his heart could shatter so easily with just a few words. He supposed he had this coming. Yes, he was right, earlier. This was karma for all his previous misdeeds. You were karma, and you were cruel.

“No strings attached, remember?”

[bachiras-toaster]

jealousy and it’s consequences : ̗̀➛

BSD MEN x gn!reader

cw: smut, manipulation, obsessiveness, possessiveness, they’re all a little toxic (except atsushi), giving head (ranpo), receiving head (poe), riding (Atsushi), masturbation

synopsis. how bsd men deal with their jealousy after seeing you with their rival.

characters: dazai, chuuya, ranpo, poe, atushi, akutagawa

DAZAI, seeing you with Chuuya

He sees you with Chuuya? He dares you to hang out with him more. He's serious! Go wild. Hold hands, kiss him— Do it all right in front of Dazai. If you have the nerve to do all of those things in the first place, then surely you wouldn't be opposed to not doing it behind his back? If you're going to so obviously make him jealous, do it to his face.

He will take it out on the both of you-- You more-so than Chuuya. Dazai would probably give Chuuya a quiet and humorous warning, telling him that he could only give him so many more second chances before him hanging out with you really started to tick him off. As for you, he's gonna make sure he has you all to himself from there on out. It's clear that you purposefully making him jealous must be the result of him not giving you enough attention. Well, don't worry, because now he is completely focussed on you. He'll make sure that another person won't even do so much as look at you- Even if it means constantly having you at his side in the agency, cornering you and separating you from your coworkers.

The thing is, he'll act really nice about it, telling you how it's just because he wants you all to himself! He can't stand the thought of you around other people, and seeing you hang out with Chuuya just made him realise that. You're the light of his life, believe him. He can't have other people trying to take that away from him.

When it comes to the sex afterwards too, he gets even more needy. He's a lot more touchy with you, desperate to mark and grab any bit of skin that he can. He's whining and crying to you while he leaves his seventh hickey on your collarbone, his saliva pulling from your skin to his lip as he complains about how he feels so lost without you. Do you prefer Chuuya? Be honest with him. If you really loved him more, you'd let him leave more hickeys on you and you wouldn't try to conceal them the next day. You hated seeing how he teared up while doing so, it just meant you couldn't help but softly pat his head and sigh, treating him as if he were a sick puppy.

CHUUYA, seeing you with Dazai

He'd make his annoyance super obvious from the get-go. He probably wouldn't outright say he's jealous, but he'd heavily imply it. Whenever you come back to work, telling him that you had a fun day out with Dazai, you could swear you'd see Chuuya's eye twitch uncontrollably for a second or two. You'd constantly hear those remarks saying "What's so great about Dazai anyway?" or "How funny can he even really be?" Soon, those remarks tumble into off-handed insults, such as "Dazai doesn't have the mental capacity to take care of someone." He would never blame you for hanging out with him, it will always somehow be Dazai's fault. Dazai must have coaxed you and tricked you into hanging out with him!

His solution would simply be spending more time with you. But, instead of closing you off from the world, he shows you off instead. Insists on going out on dates, PDA in public, walking past the detective agency holding hands in the hopes that Dazai would see it through the window and take the hint... You know, the basic stuff.

But when he's fucking you, the jealousy really shines through that man's eyes. He has you pinned down as he thrusted deeper into you, forcing you to choke out his name as a flurry of moans escaped your lips. Are you still thinking about Dazai right now, or have you finally come to your senses? He's so relentlessly rough with you when he's jealous, so you better pray that that jealousy is mild and not angry, because your legs would have a field day. He'd keep going at it until he was satisfied, ensuring that only his name could linger on your tongue- Only then would he accept that you're only his.

RANPO, seeing you with Poe

Questions the hell out of you. Like, you've been spending a lot of time with Poe recently, haven't you? There's a sort of blunt curiosity to him and he just can't help but swarm you with these queries. "Did you hang out with Poe today?" "I heard you and Poe went to the park." "Yeah, I was busy earlier, but I'm glad you found someone else to hang out with. It was Poe, right?"

He would victimise himself a lot, really dramatising the situation. He'll ask you if you really love him or if you think he's actually worth hanging around. If not that, he'd constantly try and convince you why you should hang out with him instead. If he sees that you're about to leave the agency to go to and meet Poe, he'd immediately stop you. Suddenly, it looks like the perfect day to go for a stroll around the park with Ranpo, don't you think? Or go to the movies? Maybe a nice library? You can even choose the place! Just don't choose Poe over him, he will cry when you're not looking.

Giving him head is the only possible solution to convince him that you wouldn't leave him for somebody else. Having you tucked sweetly between his legs as he leaned back in his office chair, his hand gently stroking the back of your neck- He really deserves this after going through the stress of thinking that you and Poe had something going on. He's an arrogant man, but he can't help but worry, you know? But since you can put aside some time in your schedule just for him, then he supposed that he shouldn't be too concerned.

POE, seeing you with Ranpo

He isn't very surprised at the idea that you could choose Ranpo over him, because of course! Anyone would. It's Ranpo, right? The smartest man alive- Who wouldn't choose Ranpo over Poe? If destroys is self-esteem and his self-worth seeing you and his rival get along so well and so easily. He is very aware of the fact that Ranpo is very intelligent, but would he have the brains to take you away from him? Is he that cruel of a person?

He tries everything to win you over from that man. Even if you don't realise it, doing so much as interact with Poe's rival is enough for him to spiral and to cause him to believe that you must already be considering ditching him. What is it that you want? Gifts? He can deliver that to you in truckloads. Do you want a relaxing holiday? He'll write up a cute story for you, no problem. Poe would kiss the ground that you walked on if it meant that you chose him over Ranpo. He would try everything in his power to remove that man out of the picture, but we all know that there isn't a novel complex enough to trap the Ranpo Edogawa.

So now Poe's tucked between your thighs, working his tongue at your senses as begging that you stay with him. The head is good, right? Tell him that it's good. Tell him he's doing a good job. You need to ensure him that you could never leave him for someone else, otherwise he'll keep whining about it against your skin. He'll continuously ask you if you like how he makes you feel so he can ensure that he can keep doing the right things. He's a listener. If he finds out what you like, he'll use it to his complete advantage.

ATSUSHI, seeing you with Akutagawa

Perhaps the least toxic one when it comes to dealing with jealousy. He doesn't blame you, he only blames himself. You know he gets super self conscious, right? There's no doubt that you're only hanging out with Akutagawa because he hasn't been treating you well enough. At first, he would confide in his friends, like Kyouka or Kunikida. Kyouka would threaten to hurt you, but he would frantically beg her not to put you in harm’s way; and Kunikida would tell him that he shouldn't be jealous, and that you're allowed to have other friends. But he simply can't help it.

It would lead him to pour his entire heart into taking care of you. He needs you to know that he loves you completely, and that you're the only one for him. Gifts, dates, compliments, praise, he'll provide it all for you. If you still choose Akutagawa after all of that, he'll accept it, but he hopes you'll choose him in the end.

So now you need to ride him, tilting his chin up so you could stare down at his pretty little face. He'd whine and cuddle you as you bounced up and down on his lap, blushing profusely as he mutters how much he loves you. He'll give everything to you, everything you want. He'll treat you right. He doesn't want to be jealous, he just wants to be yours.

AKUTAGAWA, seeing you with Atsushi

What could that stupid weretiger have that he doesn't? He's threatened to kill Atushi enough times now, so seeing you interact with him doesn't help his bloodlust and the desire to knock his lights out- in fact, it's just a greater motivation.

And his jealousy is so obvious in the way he threatens you too, grabbing you by the collar and telling you he wouldn't hesitate to have the Port Mafia toss you on the side of the street if you continue conversing with the enemy. You need to make a decision: The Port Mafia or the Armed Detective Agency- Akutagawa or Atsushi? The decision is clear, right? He knows that you wouldn’t dare choose the weretiger over him and you were simply doing this in order to get a rise out of him. He knew all too well.

So now, instead of giving you all of the attention you could dream for, he ignores you. He turns away and isolates you until you’re practically begging for his attention once again. It was just a joke, you just wanted a little bit more love— That’s what you would tell him, but it would never be enough to undo the anger in his heart.

There is no jealousy sex that comes afterwards, it’s just plain voyeurism. While he works on something to do with another one of the Port Mafia’s upcoming attacks, he’d tell you to touch yourself while he plans this and if you’re good by the end of it, he’ll finish the job. But now that just leaves you in another seat on the other side of the room, your legs spread open as you tried to stimulate yourself at the sight of him working. Of course, Akutagawa had no intention of actually touching you to serve as punishment-but you weren’t aware of that, leaving you whining and biting down on your lip as you prayed he would look at you for just a second. Even through your masturbation, he still chose not to look you in the eye, which you found was even more agitating than him not touching you instead.

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER FIVE

"baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 14k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an — dare i say... the climax

masterlist

the meeting room at y/n’s company building buzzed with quiet chatter, the kind that filled the air before something important was about to begin. ayesha was the last to arrive, her stride purposeful as she entered, coffee in hand and her iPad tucked under her arm. her presence immediately silenced the room. ayesha didn’t need to demand attention; she simply carried it with her.

y/n sat at the far end of the table, directly across from trent. the space between them felt charged, like an invisible thread pulled taut. her thoughts were scattered, flitting between the memory of his whispered confession at the wedding and the way he kissed her like he meant every word. now, she couldn’t meet his gaze without the echo of when i kissed you, you became mine reverberating in her head.

trent, on the other hand, looked almost relaxed, his arm draped casually over the back of his chair. but she noticed the subtle way his thumb tapped against his thigh—a habit she’d picked up on when he was trying to mask his impatience.

“alright, let’s get started,” ayesha announced, setting her coffee on the table. her voice was brisk, professional. she didn’t waste time on pleasantries, diving straight into the matter at hand. “first, let me say that you two have done a phenomenal job so far. the public loves you together, and the numbers don’t lie—engagement is through the roof. every appearance trends, every post gets millions of likes. you’ve exceeded expectations.”

y/n offered a polite nod, though her heart wasn’t in it. she should’ve felt relief or even pride at ayesha’s praise, but instead, all she felt was the growing weight of her discomfort.

“that’s good to hear,” she murmured, her voice soft.

trent leaned back in his chair, his tone neutral. “so, what’s the problem?”

ayesha glanced between them, her lips pressing into a line. “it’s not a problem, per se. just… feedback. some fans and media outlets have noticed a lack of—” she paused, searching for the right word. “—intimacy between you two. they’re buying the relationship, but they want to see more sparks.”

y/n’s brows furrowed. “sparks?”

“intimacy,” ayesha clarified, her tone matter-of-fact. “the kind that makes people swoon. kisses, lingering touches, moments that feel unscripted. the fans want to believe you’re completely infatuated with each other.”

y/n blinked, the word kisses catching in her mind like a hook. heat crept up her neck, and she instinctively crossed her arms. “kisses? as in… on camera?”

“exactly,” ayesha confirmed, tapping her iPad. “right now, you two look comfortable together, which is great. but comfortable doesn’t sell the way passion does. we need you to push it a little further.”

trent frowned, his jaw tightening. “so, what are you saying? we have to start making out in public now?”

ayesha let out a small laugh, though it lacked humor. “nothing that extreme. but a kiss or two would go a long way. and it needs to feel natural, not staged. that’s why I’m suggesting a little… practice.”

y/n’s heart dropped. “practice?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“yes,” ayesha said simply. “you need to rehearse it so it doesn’t look awkward when the cameras are rolling. think of it like choreography—just another part of the job.”

y/n’s chest tightened, the very idea making her stomach churn. practice kissing trent? the same trent who had kissed her at the wedding with such certainty it left her questioning everything? the same trent who had whispered that she was his like it was a fact, not a feeling?

“this is ridiculous,” trent muttered, running a hand down his face.

“ridiculous or not, it’s what’s needed,” ayesha said firmly. “you two are close. you’ve spent months building this dynamic. you’re almost there—just a little more effort, and it’ll be perfect.”

y/n shook her head, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her notebook. “this is too much. it’s one thing to act close or hold hands, but… rehearsing kisses? that’s too weird.”

ayesha arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “this is what you signed up for. no one said it would be easy.”

trent straightened in his seat, his tone sharp. “we’re doing enough. we don’t need to rehearse anything.”

ayesha gave him a pointed look but didn’t argue. instead, she stood, smoothing out the front of her blazer. “i’ll leave you two to figure it out. just remember—this only works if the public believes in it.”

she walked out of the room without another word, leaving the two of them in a silence that felt heavier than before.

y/n stared at the table, her mind racing. the thought of rehearsing a kiss with trent made her pulse quicken—not out of excitement, but out of sheer anxiety. she couldn’t forget the way he’d kissed her last time, how it felt like he was claiming her. would it be like that again? or would it feel rehearsed, hollow, nothing more than an obligation?

“you good?” trent’s voice broke through her thoughts, soft but laced with concern.

she nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak.

he tilted his head, studying her. “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

she glanced up, her eyes meeting his. “it’s not about what i want,” she said quietly. “it’s about what’s expected.”

trent frowned, his expression unreadable. after a moment, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “for the record, i’m not rehearsing anything in front of anyone.”

her heart stuttered. “you’re not?”

his lips curled into a faint smirk, his voice dipping even lower as he leaned in. “nah. i don’t need a camera to make it real.”

his words sent a shiver down her spine, the heat of his breath brushing against her ear. she swallowed hard, her pulse thundering in her ears.

before she could respond, trent pulled back, his smirk still in place. “just thought you should know.”

she stared at him, her thoughts a jumbled mess. and for the first time, she couldn’t tell where the line between acting and reality was supposed to be.

the private jet hummed softly as it cut through the sky, the low vibration a steady background to the quiet luxury of the cabin. sunlight streamed through the windows, catching on the sleek surfaces and glinting off the silver accents. y/n leaned back in her seat, an oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, her legs tucked under her as she scrolled aimlessly through the playlist on her phone.

trent sat across from her, leaning forward slightly as he tied the laces on his sneakers. his movements were casual, but his eyes kept drifting toward her, taking in the way the sunlight danced on her skin and the way she bit her bottom lip when she concentrated too hard. the intimacy of traveling together—just the two of them—was unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

“you’ve been quiet,” trent said after a moment, his voice cutting through the soft hum of the jet.

she looked up, caught off guard. “quiet can be nice.”

he grinned, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “true, but it’s not as fun.”

y/n smirked, her fingers pausing on her screen. “and you’re all about fun, huh?”

“depends on the company,” he shot back, his gaze steady on hers.

her stomach flipped, but she masked it with a small laugh. “lucky for you, i’m excellent company.”

trent chuckled, his head tilting slightly as he studied her. “i’m starting to see that.”

the playful exchange eased the tension in the air, though the undercurrent of something more lingered.

“so,” she said, deciding to shift the focus, “monaco. have you been before?”

“a few times,” he said with a nod. “it’s a good vibe—fast cars, good weather, expensive everything.”

“sounds about right,” she said, her lips twitching into a smile. “first time for me, though. i’m excited.”

“you’re an f1 fan, right?”

she raised an eyebrow, impressed. “look at you, doing your homework.”

“what can i say?” he shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “i’m a man of many talents.”

“is that so?” she teased, leaning forward slightly. “name one.”

“besides football?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes glinting with challenge.

“obviously.”

“alright,” he said, leaning forward to match her posture. “i’m excellent at reading people.”

she scoffed, crossing her arms. “oh, really?”

“yeah.” he leaned back again, his expression smug. “like right now, for example. you’re trying really hard to act like you’re not impressed by me.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but the warmth spreading through her chest betrayed her. “keep dreaming, alexander-arnold.”

he laughed, the sound low and infectious. “you didn’t deny it, though.”

“anyway,” she said, brushing off his comment, though her cheeks felt warmer. “who’s your team?”

“alpine,” he said without hesitation.

she snorted. “of course. you’re an owner. you kinda have to, don’t you?”

“loyalty,” he said simply, though there was a playful glint in his eye. “what about you?”

“ferrari,” she said, her voice carrying just a hint of pride.

trent groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “you’re one of those fans.”

“what’s wrong with ferrari?” she challenged, sitting up straighter.

“they’re all flash and heartbreak,” he said, shaking his head. “every year it’s ‘this is our season,’ and then…” he made a crashing motion with his hand.

“okay, hater,” she shot back, laughing. “what do you want me to do? switch to alpine?”

“couldn’t hurt,” he teased. “might finally back a winner.”

“oh, you’re full of it,” she said, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“and yet,” he said, his grin widening, “you keep talking to me.”

“because you’re here,” she retorted, though the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.

as the conversation flowed, the topics meandered—music, childhood memories, the wildest places they’d been. trent found himself cataloging the way she spoke, the way her voice lifted when she got excited or how her hands moved when she was trying to explain something.

“alright, one more,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “weirdest habit?”

she tilted her head, thinking for a moment. “i talk to myself. like, full-on conversations.”

he raised an eyebrow. “out loud?”

“yep.” she grinned, unbothered. “it’s helpful, though. keeps me organized.”

“and here i thought i was special, getting all your attention,” he joked, a teasing glint in his eye.

“you might be,” she said lightly, her tone laced with something unspoken.

trent’s smirk faltered for just a second, his gaze sharpening as if trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. but before he could respond, the jet dipped slightly, signaling their descent.

“and we are off,” y/n said, looking out the window with a soft smile as the jet dipped into its descent.

trent leaned back in his seat, his gaze shifting from the window to her face. “by the end of this weekend,” he said, his tone light but mischievous, “you’re gonna be head over heels for me.”

she turned to him, raising an eyebrow as a laugh bubbled out of her. “head over heels, yeah?.”

“just saying,” he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “it’s monaco—good weather, great company, and me. kinda hard not to fall in love, don’t you think?”

she rolled her eyes, but the smile playing on her lips betrayed her. “you watch too many films.”

“like i said y/n i can read people. don't fight it, baby,” he said, flashing her a grin, “i know i am irresistible.”

“you really need to work on your humility,” she teased, shaking her head.

“what can I say?” he replied, leaning forward slightly. “when you’ve got it, you’ve got it.”

y/n turned back to the window, fighting the warmth spreading through her cheeks. “keep dreaming, alexander-arnold.”

trent chuckled softly, watching her for a moment before leaning back again, the grin on his face lingering.

trent leaned back in his seat, watching her. “this weekend’s gonna be interesting.”

she turned to him, her eyebrows raised. “why’s that?”

“just a feeling,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes lingering on hers a moment too long.

as the plane touched down, y/n found herself wondering if trent had been thinking about the kiss as much as she had. something told her she might find out sooner than later.

the room wasn’t massive, but it exuded the kind of luxury you’d expect from a monaco hotel during grand prix weekend. sleek furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sparkling harbor, and, of course, the bed. one bed. y/n stared at it for a moment, her lips twitching like she was trying to fight off a smile.

trent noticed immediately. “go on. say it.”

“say what?” she asked innocently, dropping her bag by the chair.

“whatever you’re thinking,” he said, kicking off his sneakers and leaning against the dresser, his arms crossed.

“i’m not thinking anything,” she said, trying to sound casual. but the gleam in her eye gave her away.

“uh-huh.” he cocked his head, his grin lazy. “you’re thinking about how all those rom-coms got it right. one bed. what will we do?”

she laughed, finally letting the smile break through. “don’t flatter yourself. i’m sleeping on the left side.”

“good, i’m a right-side guy anyway,” he quipped, brushing past her and pulling his suitcase onto the bed.

she shook her head and wandered toward the balcony, letting the sunlight hit her face as she leaned against the glass door. it was still early, the afternoon stretching ahead of them, but her excitement was practically buzzing beneath her skin. monaco. the grand prix. ferrari. it all felt unreal.

trent joined her after a moment, standing close enough that their arms brushed. “you’re vibrating.”

she looked up at him, feigning confusion. “what?”

“you’re so excited, you’re vibrating,” he teased, nudging her gently. “you’re gonna wear yourself out before we even get to the track.”

“i can’t help it,” she admitted, her voice breathless. “it’s monaco. and it’s f1. and—”

“and ferrari,” he finished for her, smirking.

she grinned, turning to face him fully. “as long as i’m in the same vicinity as charles leclerc, i’ll deal with being stuck at alpine with you all weekend.”

his brows shot up, mock offense coloring his tone. “oh, so i’m a burden now?”

“you catch on fast, honey,” she said, her voice sweet as syrup. “my goal is for him to fall in love with me at first sight this weekend.”

trent scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned against the doorframe. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m honest,” she shot back, crossing her arms.

“yeah, well,” he said, his smirk fading slightly, “i wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”

the way he said it caught her off guard—his voice softer, almost sincere. her teasing smile faltered, and she blinked up at him, her heart giving an odd little flutter. “don’t say that.”

“why not? it’s true,” he said simply, his gaze steady on hers.

she gulped, suddenly feeling too warm despite the gentle breeze wafting in from the balcony. “because... it’s not.”

he tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face. “what do you mean?”

she hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor as she spoke quietly. “i don’t know. i just... i’ve never felt like someone people would fall in love with.”

trent’s expression softened, and he took a small step closer. “y/n.”

“it’s fine,” she said quickly, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. “i’m being dramatic.”

“you’re not,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “and i don’t know who made you feel that way, but they’re dead wrong.”

she looked up at him again, his face so earnest it made her chest ache. she wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. instead, she just nodded, offering him a small smile.

“good,” he said after a beat, his voice lighter now. “because if anyone’s falling in love this weekend, it’s you. with me.”

she laughed, grateful for the shift in tone. “you wish.”

“no, seriously,” he said, his grin returning. “by sunday, you’re gonna be looking at me like i’m the ferrari.”

“delusional,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“confident,” he corrected, winking.

they lingered there for a moment before he clapped his hands together. “right. let’s shower and get ready. you can drool over leclerc later.”

trent emerged from the bathroom, the faint scent of his cedarwood soap lingering in the air. his white shirt, crisp and simple, stretched effortlessly across his broad shoulders, tucked neatly into his light khaki pants. a navy alpine hat completed the look, the brim casting a shadow over his sharp features. he looked casual, understated—but impossibly good, the kind of good that made y/n’s breath hitch before she caught herself staring.

she pretended to adjust the strap of her bag, glancing away quickly, but he noticed. of course, he noticed.

“what?” he asked, a teasing edge to his tone as he stepped into his sneakers.

“nothing,” she said too quickly, the faintest hint of color blooming on her cheeks.

he smirked, tipping his hat slightly as he gave her an appraising look. “you sure? because you look like you’ve got something to say.”

“i don’t,” she lied, her fingers now fiddling with the halter tie of her dress.

trent’s eyes fell to the movement, and for a second, he forgot how to form words. the dress—a watercolored masterpiece in hues of soft blues, pinks, and greens—clung to her curves like it was made just for her. the halter neckline tied elegantly at the back of her neck, leaving her shoulders bare, while the flowing skirt swayed gently as she moved. her braids were styled in a bohemian half-up, half-down look, with two delicate plaits framing her face. she looked radiant, ethereal, like a walking daydream.

“wow,” he breathed, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

her eyes snapped back to him, narrowing slightly. “what?”

he shook his head, his smirk softening into something warmer, almost reverent. “you’re... beautiful.”

her lips parted in surprise, and she quickly looked down, her fingers brushing over the skirt of her dress. “it’s just a dress,” she mumbled, but the shy smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“it’s not just a dress,” he said, stepping closer. “and it’s not just you wearing it—it’s the whole thing. you look... unreal, y/n.”

she glanced up at him through her lashes, the warmth in his eyes making her chest tighten. “you clean up nice too, you know.”

he chuckled, adjusting the brim of his hat. “yeah, but it’s different for me. i just throw this on and call it a day. you look like a work of art.”

she didn’t respond, her cheeks burning as she brushed past him, heading for the door. “we should go,” she said, her voice light but hurried.

“i’m just saying,” he called after her, grinning as he grabbed his phone and followed her out.

the drive to the paddock was filled with her giddy excitement and his amused commentary. she couldn’t stop fidgeting, her hands smoothing over her dress, her fingers adjusting the braids framing her face every few minutes.

“you’re going to wear yourself out before we even get there,” trent teased, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“i can’t help it,” she admitted, her voice tinged with nervous energy. “this is monaco. this is f1. do you know how long i’ve waited for this?”

“about as long as you’ve waited to run off with leclerc,” he joked, earning a playful glare from her.

“don’t be jealous,” she shot back, folding her arms. “i can admire other men. it’s healthy.”

“admire, sure. but you’re already planning how to get him to fall in love with you,” he pointed out, a mock pout on his face.

“and you’re acting like that’s a bad thing,” she said sweetly, her grin widening. “i told you, trent—you’re just my ticket in.”

he shook his head, laughing. “unbelievable. and here i was thinking you liked me for my charm.”

she tilted her head, pretending to consider. “well, you’re a decent placeholder. but leclerc? leclerc is endgame.”

“you’re killing me, y/n,” he groaned, pulling into the paddock parking lot.

as they stepped out, the hum of engines and the chatter of the crowd surrounded them. trent walked beside her, his hand brushing hers as they made their way toward the alpine garage. but even with the buzz of monaco around them, his eyes kept drifting back to her—the way her dress caught the light, the way her braids swayed with each step, the way her excitement lit up her entire face.

“you’re really not gonna let the leclerc thing go, are you?” he asked as they reached the entrance.

she looked up at him, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “not until he signs his name across my heart.”

he groaned again, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “just don’t forget who got you here.”

“how could i?” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder. “you’re my ticket, remember?”

and even though he laughed, a part of him couldn’t help but wish she meant something more.

she rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, grabbing her things and disappearing into the bathroom. by the time they were dressed and heading out to the paddock, she felt lighter. trent had a way of doing that—making the weight she carried feel a little less heavy, even if he didn’t realize it.

as they stepped into the car waiting to take them to the track, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “thanks, by the way.”

he looked at her, puzzled. “for what?”

she shrugged, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “for being... you.”

he didn’t say anything, but the small, knowing smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

the hum of activity in the alpine garage was mesmerizing—engineers poring over screens, mechanics prepping tools, and the occasional roar of an engine reverberating through the space. y/n stood at the heart of it all, her wide eyes soaking in every detail, her posture attentive as an alpine engineer explained something about tire temperatures and aerodynamics. trent leaned against the edge of a table, arms crossed, watching her with a mixture of amusement and awe.

she wasn’t just nodding along politely; she was fully engrossed, asking thoughtful questions and leaning in to hear every word over the noise. when the cars roared to life, she clutched the headphones around her neck and slipped them on, her face lighting up like a kid on christmas morning.

trent pulled out his phone, unable to resist capturing the moment. he snapped a quick photo of her, the oversized alpine headphones dwarfing her head, her sundress flowing around her as she leaned slightly forward to get a better view of the cars leaving the garage. her expression was a mix of awe and excitement, and he couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at his lips as he looked at the picture.

“you’re such a tourist,” he teased, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

she turned, her face glowing with excitement. “i am a tourist! this is so cool, trent. you have no idea.”

“oh, i’ve got some idea,” he said, gesturing to the way she practically vibrated with energy.

she giggled, pulling her phone out to post the photo he’d taken of her, captioning it with a simple, best day ever.

“you’re really going all in, huh?” he asked, his voice warm as he stepped closer to her. “when you told me you liked f1, i thought you meant casually. like... you’d catch a race here and there.”

she turned to him, arching a brow. “what? you thought i was a casual fan?”

“not fake,” he clarified, lifting his hands defensively. “just... casual. you’ve never taken this kind of interest in football.”

“that’s because i’ve been around football my whole life,” she said, tilting her head. “i know how it works. but this?” she gestured to the garage, the pit crew bustling around them. “this is fascinating. it’s not just the drivers—it’s the strategy, the technology, the speed... everything has to be perfect. one tiny mistake and it’s game over.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “i mean, football’s kind of like that too.”

“not the same,” she argued, her lips quirking into a playful smile. “don’t get me wrong, football’s great and all, but there’s something about f1 that’s... different. it’s like this mix of art and science, and i just love it.”

he watched her as she spoke, the way her hands moved animatedly, the passion in her voice making his chest tighten. it was rare to see her this open, this excited, and he found himself hanging on every word.

“so what you’re saying is,” he began, a teasing lilt in his voice, “you’d rather be dating a driver than me?”

she laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. “oh, absolutely,” she said, deadpan, before softening. “but you’ll do for now.”

“wow,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “i feel so special.”

“you should,” she shot back, smirking.

just then, the cars roared back into the garage after their laps, the sheer power of the engines making her visibly shiver with excitement. trent glanced down at her, the way her eyes lit up and her lips parted slightly as the mechanics swarmed the car.

“you’re really into this, aren’t you?” he asked softly, more a statement than a question.

she nodded, not taking her eyes off the cars. “i feel like i’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”

trent leaned closer, lowering his voice. “you’re gonna have a hell of a time explaining to ferrari how you spent the morning in alpine’s garage.”

she turned to him, her smile playful. “it’s called getting the best of both worlds.”

he shook his head, laughing under his breath. “you’re spoiled.”

“you love it, boyfriend” she teased, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.

and as he looked at her, with her glowing skin, her excitement palpable in every fiber of her being, he couldn’t bring himself to disagree.

the evening in monaco was everything y/n had imagined and more—breathtaking, glamorous, and full of life. as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky turned a deep shade of indigo, streaked with the last golden traces of the day. the lights of the city shimmered against the calm waters of the harbor, casting a romantic glow over everything. yachts dotted the water like floating mansions, their sleek lines and gleaming surfaces reflecting the luxury of the place.

trent, as usual, was by her side, dressed in a simple but sharp black shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and a pair of dark jeans that fit him just right. his hair was slightly tousled from the breeze, and his smile was relaxed, yet there was something about tonight that made his usual confidence seem a little softer.

“you look beautiful as ever,” he said as they stepped out of the car, his voice filled with admiration. y/n was wearing a floor-length dress that shimmered with tiny gold threads woven through the fabric. the halter neck drew attention to her shoulders and the curve of her back, while the slit on the side revealed just enough of her legs to keep things teasingly mysterious.

“thank you,” she replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes scanning the cityscape in awe. “this place... it’s unreal.”

“yeah, it’s something, huh?” trent agreed, his gaze following hers as he took in the beauty of monaco with new eyes. “i’ve been here a few times, but it never gets old.”

they walked arm in arm through the bustling streets, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilling out from the open-air cafes and bars they passed. the air smelled of saltwater, expensive cologne, and the faint scent of florals from nearby gardens. everything about the night felt alive, full of possibility.

y/n could hardly believe she was here. this wasn’t just any night—it was a night in monaco, with trent, of all people, by her side. the whole experience felt like something out of a movie. and as they passed through a narrow alleyway that opened up to a terrace overlooking the bay, the moment felt so surreal that she had to pinch herself to make sure it was real.

they settled into a small, elegant restaurant perched above the water, the soft hum of the city below them blending with the soft jazz music that played in the background. candles flickered on each table, casting a warm glow over their faces. as they sat down, y/n noticed how the light seemed to catch trent’s eyes, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

“this is perfect,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe. she had never been one for extravagant nights out—her life was usually quieter, filled with studio sessions and late nights working on songs. but here, in this moment, she felt like she was living a dream.

“glad you think so,” trent said, his gaze lingering on her with something more than just the usual flirtation. there was a tenderness in the way he looked at her, as if the beauty of the night, the beauty of monaco, was nothing compared to the beauty he saw in her.

the waiter arrived, offering them drinks, and trent ordered something for both of them without hesitation. y/n was still taking in the view when she heard him laugh softly.

“what’s so funny?” she asked, glancing at him.

“you look so... content,” he said, the words carrying a sincerity that made her heart skip a beat. “i think i’ve finally found a way to impress you.”

y/n smiled, shaking her head. “you’ve been impressive since the start, trent. but this... this is special.”

“well, i’m glad i could do it right for once,” he replied, his grin widening as he raised his glass in a playful toast.

“here’s to special nights,” she said, clinking her glass against his.

they sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, letting the noise of the city fade into the background. y/n’s thoughts wandered back to everything she had been through with jadon, all the tension and confusion. but here, in this moment, with trent’s steady presence beside her, it was easy to forget about all of it.

the night stretched on, and as they walked through the streets of monaco hand in hand, she felt a connection to him that was deeper than just the shared moments of the day. she wasn’t sure what this was, but she knew she didn’t want it to end. for once, she allowed herself to feel completely lost in the beauty of the evening, in the beauty of the company beside her.

underneath the stars, in the city that never slept, y/n finally let herself feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

the next day dawned bright and clear, the sun rising over the horizon, casting a golden hue over the sparkling water. the air was warm but not overwhelming, a gentle breeze ruffling the palm trees along the coastline of monaco. today was all about relaxation, fun, and escaping the world for a little while—trent had arranged a private yacht for the day, and y/n couldn’t contain her excitement.

as she stepped onto the deck, she squinted at the vastness of the sea, the water so blue it almost seemed unreal. the yacht, sleek and luxurious, was the epitome of comfort and style. a few crew members greeted them with smiles and drinks, and y/n instantly felt like she was in a dream.

trent, dressed casually in a white t-shirt and navy shorts, was already at the bow, his arms resting on the railing as he watched the waves. there was a sense of peace about him today, a break from the high-energy environment of racing and public life. when he saw her approach, his lips curled into a soft smile.

“you ready for this?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

“more than ready,” y/n replied with a grin, her heart racing a little at the sight of him looking so effortlessly handsome. she felt like she was getting to know him on a different level every time they spent more time together, and today was no exception.

they spent the morning out on the water, the yacht cutting through the sea with ease. y/n was in her element, the ocean air filling her lungs, the sun warming her skin. they chatted about everything and nothing—music, life, their dreams, their pasts. as she listened to trent speak, she found herself laughing more than she had in a long time, the sound of her laughter blending with the gentle rhythm of the waves.

at some point, trent suggested they both jump off the yacht for a swim, and y/n eagerly agreed. with a playful smirk, he dove off the side, the splash sending droplets of water flying into the air. y/n followed soon after, her body hitting the water with a graceful dive. they swam side by side, laughing and talking as the world seemed to melt away around them.

after a while, they returned to the yacht, soaking wet but exhilarated. they lounged on the sunbeds, drying off under the warmth of the sun. y/n felt a peacefulness that she hadn’t experienced in ages. being here, with trent, surrounded by nothing but the vastness of the sea and the calm rhythm of the world, made everything else feel distant.

“this is perfect,” she said, her voice relaxed and content as she leaned back, her arms stretched out above her head.

“i’m glad you’re enjoying it,” trent replied, his eyes scanning her with an unreadable expression. there was something different in the way he was looking at her today, a deeper understanding in his gaze. “i’ve always liked the sea. it’s peaceful, you know? no noise, no chaos—just... you and the water.”

“yeah,” y/n murmured. “i feel the same way. i think that’s why i like being by the ocean so much.”

they both fell silent for a moment, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water against the hull of the yacht. it was a comfortable silence, one that felt natural and easy between them.

“you know,” trent said, breaking the quiet, “i never thought i’d enjoy a day like this. just... doing nothing.”

“it’s not nothing,” y/n replied softly, her eyes meeting his. “it’s everything. sometimes the best days are the ones where you don’t have to do anything except be present.”

he smiled at that, his expression softening. “you’re right. it’s just... being with you here, like this. it feels... real, you know?”

“i know,” y/n said, her heart fluttering slightly in her chest. the way he spoke, the way he was looking at her—it felt like the beginning of something more than just a day spent together. it felt like the start of something that could change everything.

they spent the rest of the day on the water, drifting lazily from one beautiful spot to another, taking in the sights and enjoying each other’s company in a way that felt effortless. trent was more relaxed than she had ever seen him, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a quiet calmness. and y/n, for the first time in what felt like ages, felt like she could simply be herself—no expectations, no pressure, just her and trent, enjoying the simplicity of the day.

as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, y/n found herself lying next to trent on one of the sunbeds. she had her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for a brief moment, the world felt completely still.

“i’m glad we did this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“me too,” trent replied softly, his hand lightly brushing against hers. “i think this is one of my favorite days.”

“mine too,” y/n murmured, her eyelids fluttering closed as the warmth of the day and the softness of his touch made her feel safe and content.

as the yacht slowly made its way back to the harbor, the sounds of the city growing louder in the distance, y/n realized that this day had been more than just a chance to relax. it had been a moment of connection, a step closer to understanding what they could have together. and as trent’s hand gently intertwined with hers, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was the start of something bigger than either of them could have predicted.

race day arrived with a palpable buzz in the air, the streets of monaco crowded with fans, cars zooming by, and the sound of engines roaring in the distance. the day felt electric, like the entire world was on the edge of something incredible, and y/n couldn’t help but feel her excitement build as she stood next to trent, her hand firmly clasped in his.

the paddock was a whirlwind of activity, engineers rushing around, teams prepping their cars, and journalists snapping photos. yet, amidst the chaos, it felt as though everything had slowed down when she looked at trent. the two of them, hand in hand, moving through the throng of people, a quiet bubble of space surrounding them.

as they approached the ferrari garage, trent squeezed her hand gently. “i thought you might want to watch with your favorite team today,” he said with a grin, his voice low and teasing.

y/n stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening in complete surprise. “wait—what?” her voice caught in her throat, and she felt her heart leap into her chest. she glanced at the garage in front of her, and her excitement erupted, almost too much to contain. “you’re—seriously—i can watch with ferrari?” she asked, a laugh of disbelief escaping her.

before she could process the words, she was already launching herself into his arms, her hands clutching onto his neck as she practically leaped into his chest. trent’s hands immediately went around her waist to steady her, his grip instinctively tightening as she buried her face in his neck, her body shaking with happiness.

he chuckled softly, a warm sound against her ear, the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he held her close. “didn’t expect that kind of reaction, did you?”

“this is—this is everything, trent!” y/n laughed, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. “i can’t believe you did this for me!”

“well,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes, “you’ve been talking about ferrari non-stop since we got here, so i thought... why not give you the chance to see them up close?”

her joy was overwhelming, and without thinking, she found herself leaning up and planting a quick, impulsive kiss on his lips. it wasn’t the kind of kiss she had planned—it was a rush, a burst of emotion she couldn’t contain, a kiss sparked by the pure joy of the moment. it was soft at first, but as soon as their lips met, something inside of her snapped. the kiss deepened, the overwhelming happiness and excitement flowing into that single, unexpected moment.

trent froze for a split second, as if unsure what to do, before his hands moved instinctively to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. the kiss felt electric, something neither of them had anticipated, a perfect mix of surprise and desire.

it didn’t last long—just a few seconds—but when they pulled away, both of them were breathless. y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing, trying to figure out what had just happened. her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and she couldn’t meet trent’s eyes, feeling the heat of the moment linger between them.

trent cleared his throat softly, his own breath coming in slightly quicker than usual. “uh... i didn’t... expect that.”

“me neither,” y/n whispered, still stunned by what had just happened. she tried to compose herself, but her hands were still trembling slightly as she pulled back. “i’m sorry. i just—i don’t know what came over me.”

trent laughed softly, running a hand through his hair as he tried to regain his own composure. “don’t apologize. i... didn’t mind,” he said, his voice a little lower than usual, almost playful, but there was a hint of something else there too—something softer. “but if you kiss me every time i do something nice for you, i’m gonna need a little more incentive.”

y/n’s eyes widened slightly at the teasing in his tone, and she couldn’t help but laugh nervously, trying to cover up the sudden fluster of emotions she felt. “oh, please. i’ll leave you to your ferrari then. i’m sure you’ll get plenty of incentives to do nice things for me,” she teased back, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

but deep down, her heart was racing for an entirely different reason. it wasn’t just about the kiss—it was the connection, the intensity that had been building between them for days, and how, in that moment, it felt like everything had shifted. but instead of overthinking it, she allowed herself to simply enjoy the magic of it all.

“you’ll get plenty of ferrari time, trust me,” trent said with a wink, his voice lighter now. “but let’s head over and get you situated first, yeah? we’ve got the best view in the house.”

y/n nodded eagerly, still reeling from the kiss. she squeezed his hand tighter as they approached the ferrari garage, both of them aware of the sudden shift in their dynamic, but neither of them quite ready to say anything about it.

as they entered the garage, the team was already prepping the cars for the upcoming race, and y/n felt her heart flutter in her chest at the sight. the red and white cars gleamed under the lights, and she couldn’t wipe the grin from her face. trent had outdone himself, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like they were just friends or casual acquaintances—it felt like something more.

y/n stood alone in the ferrari garage, her heart still racing from the thrill of being surrounded by her favorite team. the energy in the air was electric, and she soaked it all in—the mechanics hustling around, the cars revving, the intensity of the moment. it was everything she’d hoped for, and more. but as much as she tried to focus on the race prep, her mind kept drifting back to trent.

she hadn’t realized how much she’d gotten used to his presence until it was gone. a part of her missed him more than she expected. even with all the excitement around her, there was this undeniable pull, an ache she couldn’t ignore. she turned to the intern who had been helping her, still trying to maintain her excitement. “thank you for everything,” she said with a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes completely. “i’m gonna go check in on my boyfriend, if that’s okay.”

the intern gave her a nod, clearly understanding y/n’s need to leave. “of course, go ahead. enjoy!”

y/n didn’t waste another second. she quickly left the ferrari garage, the buzzing atmosphere fading as she stepped back into the corridor, and made her way toward the alpine garage, knowing exactly where trent would be. her steps quickened, her heart picking up pace with each one. she could feel him pulling her back, and before she knew it, she was standing just outside the alpine garage.

her eyes scanned the area until she spotted him—trent, focused on the engineers, his back to her as he listened intently to the discussions. without a second thought, she crept quietly behind him, the sound of her steps muffled by the noise of the paddock. standing just behind him, she reached out, her fingers slipping through his, the soft touch almost an unspoken request for connection.

trent froze at the unexpected warmth of her fingers, his body stiffening before he turned, surprised to find y/n standing there with a playful smile. his gaze softened immediately, and his lips parted in surprise. “y/n,” he said, his voice low, almost in disbelief. “you... you’re here?”

y/n shrugged, the smile never leaving her lips. “missed you,” she said, her tone casual, as if they’d said it a million times before. there was an ease in the way she spoke, as though her words were just the simple truth, something that had become second nature.

trent’s heart skipped a beat. “i missed you too,” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. but then his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes scanning her face. “but what about your ferrari?”

y/n laughed softly, shaking her head as she leaned a little closer, her fingers still intertwined with his. “i would rather watch with you, if that’s okay,” she said, her voice soft but certain. “if you don’t mind, that is.”

trent’s chest tightened, but it wasn’t from surprise—it was from something else. something deeper. he wanted to say something, to respond with words that made sense, but instead, he found himself smiling at her again, as if this moment was exactly where he wanted to be.

he stepped closer, his hand squeezing hers gently, as if to reassure her that this was exactly where she belonged. “of course,” he said, his voice quieter now, the air between them thick with an unspoken understanding. “it’s more than okay. you know that.”

y/n’s smile widened, the connection between them deepening with just those few words. she squeezed his hand back before leaning in just slightly, her cheek brushing against his shoulder as they stood there together in the alpine garage, the world continuing to buzz around them, but for a moment, everything else faded away.

“thank you,” she whispered, the words so soft they could have been lost to the noise around them, but trent heard them, his heart stirring in response.

“no need to thank me,” he said quietly, his thumb grazing over her knuckles. “this... this is where i want to be.”

y/n tilted her head slightly, glancing up at him. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he answered, his voice warm, the sincerity in his words clear. there was no pretending, no games—just the truth, raw and honest. “with you.”

she felt a flutter in her chest at his words, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the heat of the sun overhead or the intensity of the race. for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“so, you’ll watch with me then?” trent asked again, his hand still firmly in hers, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

“yeah,” y/n said softly, her smile finally matching the joy in her heart. “i’ll watch with you.”

and as they walked side by side into the alpine garage, the world of racing, the paddock, the noise, and the excitement all seemed to blur into the background. for that moment, it was just the two of them, and it was exactly enough.

after a long, thrilling day in monaco, the buzz of the race still lingered in the air, but the hotel room offered a sanctuary of quiet. the lights of the city stretched out beyond the massive window where y/n stood, her silhouette bathed in a soft glow. monaco's music drifted faintly from the streets below, but inside, the silence between her and trent was almost deafening.

y/n’s thoughts were a tangled mess. the adrenaline from the day still coursed through her, but it wasn’t just the race, the excitement, or even the glamour of monaco that had her heart racing. it was trent—the way he smiled at her, the way his touch lingered a second too long, the way his presence filled every empty corner of her mind. it was becoming harder to ignore the feelings she had fought so hard to suppress.

trent, standing by the bed, had been quiet, his movements deliberate as he shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. his gaze kept flickering to her, the tension in the room palpable. he didn’t say anything at first, but y/n could feel the weight of his eyes on her.

in the window’s reflection, their gazes met. his stare was intense, burning, and y/n’s breath hitched. her body tensed under the force of his attention, her heart hammering against her ribcage.

she turned slowly, her chest tightening as she faced him. “what?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, though she wasn’t sure if she wanted an answer.

trent took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “nothing,” he murmured, though the way his gaze darkened told her everything. “you’re just… standing there like you’re trying to drive me crazy.”

her lips quirked into a small, teasing smile. “you’re imagining things.”

“am i?” he asked, his voice low, rough. the way he looked at her now was different—more certain, more determined.

she didn’t answer. couldn’t. the space between them seemed to shrink with each breath, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like it might snap.

trent crossed the room in a few measured strides, stopping just short of her. his hand lifted, brushing against her bare shoulder, and y/n shivered at the warmth of his touch.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice softening.

she nodded, though her throat felt dry. “yeah,” she whispered. “it’s just been a long day.”

his hand slid down her arm, his touch light but firm. “long but good?”

“really good,” she said, her voice barely steady.

trent’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, he seemed hesitant, as though teetering on the edge of a decision. then, as if something inside him snapped, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers softly—testing, tentative.

y/n froze for half a second, her mind screaming at her to stop, to think, but her body had other plans. she kissed him back, her lips parting slightly as his deepened the kiss, his hand cupping her jaw to angle her closer. her fingers found the fabric of his shirt, clutching at it as if he might slip away.

his kiss was slow but deliberate, every movement purposeful, every touch igniting something deep inside her. the heat between them was undeniable, and as his lips trailed to her jaw, down to her neck, she tilted her head, giving him more access.

“trent,” she whispered, his name slipping from her lips like a prayer.

he groaned softly against her skin, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush against him. “you drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

her breath caught, and she laughed softly, though it came out shaky. “you’re not exactly subtle, either.”

he pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes searching hers. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint.

she didn’t answer with words. instead, she tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers and sliding it off his shoulders. her fingers traced the lines of his chest, the heat of his skin burning under her touch. “does that answer your question?”

trent’s restraint snapped, and he kissed her again, this time harder, more desperate. their bodies pressed together as his hands roamed over her, exploring, claiming. y/n’s back hit the window as he pressed her against the cool glass, his lips never leaving hers.

her hands slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck as she pulled him even closer. the room seemed to fade away, the only thing grounding her being the feel of him—his lips, his hands, the way his body seemed to fit perfectly against hers.

“you’re unbelievable,” he muttered against her lips, his voice low and filled with need.

“you’re one to talk,” she shot back, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him in for another kiss.

trent chuckled softly, his lips curling into a smirk. “you’re gonna be the death of me, y/n.”

“maybe,” she whispered, her voice teasing, her breath warm against his skin. “but what a way to go.”

and just like that, they were lost again, their lips crashing together as the night stretched out before them, filled with nothing but the sound of their breaths, their whispers, and the unspoken promise of something neither of them could deny anymore.

the morning after was a blur for y/n. she woke up wrapped in the warmth of the sheets, a soft light filtering through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. everything felt surreal. the scent of trent still lingered on her skin, a reminder of last night—the kisses, the touches, the way everything had shifted between them. she felt like she was floating, as if her feet weren’t quite touching the ground.

it was the kind of happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. for the first time in ages, y/n felt at peace, like she was exactly where she needed to be. in that moment, nothing mattered except the way trent’s body had fit so perfectly with hers, how she had melted into him, and how, for a few hours, the world had felt small and warm and right.

but as she shifted slightly, rolling onto her side to look at him, the cloud of happiness hanging over her began to crack. trent was still asleep beside her, his body relaxed, the soft rise and fall of his chest calming her own heart. he looked peaceful, his hair a little mussed, his face softened by sleep.

y/n sat up slowly, her fingers running through her hair as she tried to collect her thoughts. she shouldn’t have let herself get this carried away. the night had been amazing, but it was just that—one night. she could already feel the walls inside her starting to rebuild, the defense mechanisms she’d spent years perfecting slowly creeping back.

her heart skipped a beat when trent stirred, stretching lazily before his eyes fluttered open. he blinked a few times, his gaze softening when he saw her sitting there, still in a haze, the warmth of the room reflecting in her eyes.

“morning,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep, a half smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“morning,” she murmured, her own voice hoarse, though she tried to hide it.

he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her more fully. “you sleep well?”

she nodded, her heart in her throat. “yeah. better than I have in a while.”

his smile widened, but there was something distant in his gaze—something that made y/n’s stomach tighten. he seemed content, comfortable, and in that moment, she couldn’t help but think about the words that had been left unspoken.

“good,” trent said, his voice soft, almost absent. he seemed lost in his own thoughts for a moment before he finally broke the silence.

“it was... good, last night,” he said, sitting up slightly, his hand brushing through his hair. there was a casualness in his tone, an almost too-casual air that made y/n's chest tighten. “just a... casual thing, right?” he added, his eyes meeting hers, but there was an unreadable expression on his face, like he was waiting for her response, as though he wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

y/n froze. her breath caught in her throat, and for a long moment, she couldn’t find the words. she had imagined this conversation would go differently, but she hadn’t prepared herself for the weight of it.

“yeah,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. she couldn’t bring herself to correct him—not when the truth was that part of her wanted it to be more, but she couldn’t say that. not yet. not when she wasn’t sure what this even meant.

he looked at her with a faint smile, his expression light, almost relieved. “right,” he said, as if it had all been settled in his mind. he reached over to the bedside table, grabbing his phone and scrolling through something, clearly shifting his attention. it made y/n’s heart sink, the distance between them suddenly feeling so much wider than it had been last night.

“i’m glad we’re on the same page,” trent muttered, his eyes still on his phone, though y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing now.

the weight of his words hung in the air like a cold draft, and y/n had to look away, pretending like it didn’t sting, pretending like she wasn’t suddenly questioning everything she thought she’d felt. she had known the risks—known that trent was the type to keep things casual—but for some reason, hearing him say it out loud, so casually, made her chest ache.

“me too,” y/n said quietly, her voice barely audible even to herself.

trent didn’t notice the shift in her mood, still distracted with whatever was on his phone. y/n tried to steady her breath, trying not to let the hurt show on her face. it wasn’t about him, not really—it was about her. she had let herself get caught up in something, and now, she was paying the price for it.

the silence stretched on, the weight of it pressing down on y/n’s shoulders. she felt like she was suffocating under the pressure of her own emotions. she had given him a piece of herself last night, something she rarely did, and now it felt like it meant nothing to him.

“well,” trent said after a moment, breaking the silence with an air of finality, “we should probably get ready for the day. the yacht club waits for no one.”

y/n froze, his words cutting through her like ice. the yacht club. of course. not a casual day to relax or something intimate—it was always about appearances.

she nodded, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “yeah, of course.”

she stood up from the bed, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling cold suddenly despite the warmth of the room. trent didn’t seem to notice, too wrapped up in whatever was on his phone, and y/n couldn’t help but feel like a fool. she had wanted this to be different. but now, she realized just how much of it had been her own hopes clouding her judgment.

as she walked to the bathroom, she couldn’t stop the way her heart clenched. trent’s words echoed in her mind, over and over again. just a casual thing, right?

and for the first time in a long time, y/n felt the weight of being undeserving of anything more.

y/n felt the bile rise in her throat as she walked into the bathroom, her hands shaking as she gripped the sink. the weight of what had just happened hit her like a wrecking ball. she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. how had she let herself get here again? she had convinced herself it was different this time, that it was more than just another one-night thing. but the moment trent had spoken those words, it all came crashing down.

it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her, leaving her sinking into an abyss of sadness and self-loathing. the warmth of the bed, of his arms around her, felt like a lie now. she had let herself feel too much, let herself believe in something that wasn’t real. and she had been so stupid. she had fallen for it again. she had given him everything—her body, her heart, her trust—and all he had done was take it.

her stomach turned, and she leaned over the sink, the tears welling up, blurring her reflection in the mirror. how could she have been so foolish?

the realization hit her like a wave crashing onto rocks. she was just another hookup. it was the same story, over and over again, with every guy she let close. they take what they want, and then they walk away, leaving her broken and used.

she stood there for what felt like an eternity, the sobs wracking her body, her chest tight with the weight of the heartbreak that felt so familiar but still so crushing. why couldn’t she be enough?

by the time trent was out of the shower and getting dressed, y/n had managed to pull herself together, wiping away the tears and quickly splashing cold water on her face, trying to hide the redness. but the heaviness in her chest was undeniable. she couldn’t bear to face him right now. how could she look at him? how could she pretend she was okay when all she wanted to do was cry?

when he entered the room, still pulling on his shirt and looking distracted, he paused when he noticed she wasn’t moving, still standing by the window, staring out at the bright monaco skyline, as if she were miles away.

“hey,” trent said, his voice light, but there was a hint of concern when he noticed how quiet she was. “you okay?”

y/n didn’t turn around. she kept her back to him, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the window frame. she couldn’t bring herself to face him right now. how could she, when all she felt was emptiness and betrayal?

“yeah, I just… I don’t feel well,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loud would shatter the fragile hold she had on herself. “I’m… I’m going to stay back.”

trent was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentle but tinged with confusion. “oh,” trent said, straightening his cuffs. “you sure? the yacht club’s one of the best of monaco. it’s your chance to experience it to the fillies. it’s gonna be fun—you don’t want to miss it.”

her chance? the words stung, but she swallowed it down, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I’m too sick, trent. I’m sorry.”

there was a pause, then a small sigh from him. y/n could hear him walking over to his bag, zipping it up, the sound of his movements in the background. “alright,” he said, his tone softening just a little. “if you’re sure. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“feel better, okay?” he added, while press ing a chaste kiss on her head and y/n could hear the lightness in his voice, like he had already moved past whatever this moment was. just a casual thing, right?

she didn’t respond. didn’t want to. didn’t have it in her.

when she heard the door close behind him, the tears that had been held back finally broke free. she sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, letting herself fall apart completely. the ache in her chest was unbearable. how many times would she let herself be treated like this?

the day stretched on as she lay there, heartbroken and hollow, crying uncontrollably. she didn’t care that it was race day. she didn’t care that the sun was shining, that monaco was alive with excitement. all that mattered was the silence left in the wake of trent’s absence.

y/n let herself cry, letting the sadness and the anger and the betrayal flood out of her. how had she let herself get this far, let herself care about him, only to have him walk away like it meant nothing?

the feeling of being nothing but a fleeting moment, something to pass the time, was suffocating. she had wanted so much more. but once again, she wasn’t worth more than a casual fling, a one-night thing.

and with each passing second, the hole inside her seemed to grow bigger, deeper. she thought about what she had done, how she had let herself believe in something that had never really been there. how had she been so naive?

she buried her face in the pillow, silently pleading with herself to stop, to let it go—but it was too late. everything had already broken. and now, all she could do was cry.

trent leaned against the railing of a yacht in monaco, his eyes scanning the turquoise waters as a warm breeze ruffled his shirt. the city’s energy hummed around him—laughing voices, the rev of engines, the clink of glasses—but it barely registered. he had busied himself for days, hopping between events, brushing shoulders with national teammates and celebrities, pretending to enjoy the chaos of the grand prix weekend. yet, there was a persistent knot in his chest, one he couldn’t shake.

it always came back to her.

he hadn’t heard from y/n since that morning when she said she wasn’t feeling well. she hadn’t replied to his texts or picked up his calls, and the silence was starting to eat at him. at first, he chalked it up to her needing space. after all,

the words echoed in his head like a taunt now. he frowned, taking a sip of his drink as one of his teammates clapped him on the back, dragging him into conversation. “where’s y/n?” the guy asked, looking around. “figured she’d be glued to your side this weekend.”

trent’s jaw tightened. “she wasn’t feeling well. stayed back at the hotel,” he replied evenly, though the words felt hollow.

“shame. she’s stunning, mate. i’m a huge fan. didn’t know you had it in you to land someone like that,” another player teased, grinning. “i can tell your whipped for her”

the question hit trent harder than it should have. he forced a chuckle, brushing it off with a noncommittal shrug. “just keeping it light, you know?” the words tasted bitter, but he said them anyway. it’s what people expected from him, wasn’t it? detached, easygoing, never tied down.

but as the hours dragged on, the usual distractions didn’t work. by the time he returned to the hotel, his patience was fraying. the suite was silent, the air eerily still. his eyes immediately fell on her phone, sitting abandoned on the nightstand. his heart sank.

she wouldn’t just leave without her phone, would she?

panic began to creep in as he moved through the room, checking for any sign of her. her bag was gone, but the small, familiar things she always carried—her lip gloss, a half-full water bottle, a pair of sunglasses—were still scattered around. it was like she’d vanished mid-thought.

trent sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face. his mind raced with questions. where had she gone? why hadn’t she said anything?

this wasn’t him. this frantic, restless feeling—it wasn’t who he was. he was always the one in control, the one who kept his distance. but now, with y/n’s absence hanging heavy in the air, he felt like he was losing his grip.

he picked up her phone, staring at the blank screen as if it could give him answers. her last message played on a loop in his head: i’m not feeling well. had he missed something? had she been trying to tell him more?

his stomach twisted as guilt settled in. the memory of her standing by the window that morning, her back to him, came flooding back. she’d been quiet, distant, but he hadn’t pushed. he’d taken her words at face value and left, convincing himself that giving her space was the right thing to do.

but what if it wasn’t?

trent stood abruptly, pacing the room as his frustration mounted. this was the opposite of what he’d promised himself. he didn’t get attached. he didn’t let anyone in enough to feel like this—unmoored, desperate, helpless. but y/n had slipped past every defense he’d put up, and now, with her gone, the void she left behind was unbearable.

he grabbed his phone, scrolling through their messages, rereading her last text for the tenth time. his fingers hovered over the call button, but he knew it wouldn’t help. her phone was here. wherever she was, she didn’t want him to find her.

the thought sent a sharp pang through his chest. trent sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands, as the weight of it all hit him. he had no idea where y/n was, no way to reach her, and the realization was suffocating.

for the first time in as long as he could remember, trent felt completely out of control. and it terrified him.

the night in monaco felt different to y/n. the glamour of the city, the lights flickering like stars above her, did nothing to lift the heaviness that had settled in her chest. it had been building all day, the weight of the realization that she was just another fleeting moment to trent. she felt like she was suffocating under it.

trent, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious. before he left, he tried to pull her closer, but she didn’t respond in the way he expected. there was no playful teasing, no soft laughter—just a wall between them, one he couldn’t see, one she had built up with all the hurt she felt.

as she left the room, her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. she stepped out into the cool, crisp night air, breathing in deeply, trying to steady herself. the streets were alive with the hum of activity, but it felt like the world was moving in slow motion around her. she had been here before—alone, questioning everything, wondering how she always ended up in the same place. why was she always the one left behind?

she wandered down the streets, her footsteps echoing against the cobblestones, each one feeling heavier than the last. she walked with no real destination, just trying to distance herself from the hotel, from trent, from everything that had happened.

eventually, she found herself near the docks, an alcove tucked away from the busy streets. she sat down, letting her legs dangle over the edge, staring out at the water. the calmness of the sea did nothing to ease the storm inside her. her heart felt raw, exposed, vulnerable. she had given so much, trusted so much, and for what? another empty promise?

how did she get here again?

y/n thought back to the way she had felt when she first met trent, how easy it had all seemed. it was different then, right? but now, the more she thought about it, the more it all felt like a game to him. she had wanted to believe in the tenderness, in the soft words they shared, but in the end, it was just another night. another night of being used, being tossed aside.

and for what?

her mind kept going in circles, the same questions, the same doubts. had she meant anything to him? or was she just a distraction, a pretty face to keep him entertained while he was away from his usual life? she wanted to believe that they had something real, but everything he had done—everything he hadn’t done—told her otherwise.

a tear slipped down her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly, embarrassed by how weak she felt. this wasn’t her. she had always been strong, always been the one who kept her heart guarded, kept it safe. so why had she let him in? why had she been so stupid, so naive?

she stared down at the water, her reflection barely visible in the ripples. did she really become forgotten once again?

a deep sigh escaped her lips as she pulled her knees to her chest, curling in on herself. her heart was a heavy weight in her chest, a burden she couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried. all the walls she had built around herself seemed to have crumbled with trent, and now she was left standing in the ruins, wondering if she would ever be able to rebuild.

she stayed there for what felt like hours, just lost in her own thoughts, until the sounds of the docks started to fade, and the city’s lights blurred into the distance. her mind was spinning, her heart aching, and no matter how much she tried to focus on anything else, all she could think about was how much she had trusted him—and how much it hurt to realize that trust had been misplaced.

finally, she stood, her legs shaky from sitting so long. she didn’t want to go back to the hotel, didn’t want to face him, but she had no choice. her steps were slow, heavy, as if the weight of the night had settled into her bones. she wasn’t sure what she was going back to—more lies, more pain, more broken promises. but she knew one thing for sure: she had to face him, even if her heart was already shattered beyond repair.

y/n stepped through the lobby doors of the hotel, her body heavy with exhaustion. the night air clung to her skin, and though monaco's glitz and glamour buzzed outside, she felt none of it. her hands were shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, and her head hung low, a visible shield against the world.

the elevator ride felt interminable, and when the doors opened to their suite, she braced herself. trent was sitting on the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly. the moment he saw her, his head snapped up, relief flashing across his face before it quickly hardened into something sharper.

"where the hell have you been?" his voice was low but taut, like he was holding himself together by a thread.

y/n didn’t answer immediately, her fingers working at the hem of her jacket as she stepped inside, letting the door click softly shut behind her.

"seriously, y/n. you left your phone here. you disappeared for hours, and we—" he paused, standing now, his brows furrowing. "we had appearances today. i tried calling you. multiple times.”

she shrugged, the movement slow and detached. "guess i forgot." her voice was soft, void of its usual spark, and she avoided his gaze entirely as she walked further into the room.

"forgot?" trent repeated, disbelief laced with irritation. "this isn’t just about forgetting your phone, y/n. you were gone. i didn’t know where you were. do you have any idea—" he stopped himself, exhaling sharply. "you can’t just disappear like that. especially not today."

"oh, right," she said bitterly, finally looking up at him. her expression was tired, but her voice carried a quiet sting. "the appearances. i forgot that’s what this was."

trent froze, her words sinking in like a stone thrown into still water. she wasn’t yelling or defensive; she sounded… defeated. like she didn’t even have the energy to fight him.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" he asked, his tone softening slightly.

she let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. "it doesn’t matter, trent. i was gone. i’m back. let’s just drop it, yeah?"

"no," he said firmly, stepping closer to her, his eyes searching her face. "no, i’m not dropping it. you’ve been off since this morning, and now you’re acting like this whole thing doesn’t matter. what’s going on with you?"

"nothing," she said quickly, too quickly. "i’m just tired."

but trent wasn’t convinced. the way her shoulders slumped, the way her voice wavered—it wasn’t just tiredness. it was something deeper. and it didn’t sit right with him.

"y/n," he started, his voice quieter now, but she cut him off.

"i’m fine, trent. just let it go." she moved past him, heading toward the bedroom, her movements sluggish.

he stood there for a moment, watching her retreating form, his frustration mingling with concern. this wasn’t like her. she wasn’t just fine—he could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. something was wrong, and it gnawed at him that she wouldn’t let him in.

“you’re not fine,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand over his face. he wanted to push, to demand answers, but the way she had looked at him just now—like the fight had already drained out of her—made him pause.

in that moment, for the first time in forever, trent felt completely unsure of what to do. and it terrified him.

the hum of the plane was constant, filling the quiet tension between them. trent sat in the aisle seat, his elbows resting on the armrests as he stole glances at y/n beside him. she was pressed up against the window, her headphones on, her gaze fixed on the endless expanse of clouds outside. her face was void of its usual light, her features distant and unreadable.

he had tried to speak to her earlier, but every attempt was met with short, clipped responses, or worse—silence. and now, watching her, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something was deeply wrong.

she hadn’t been herself since monaco, since—

trent stopped his thoughts abruptly, shifting in his seat. he didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to believe that that night had anything to do with this. everything had seemed fine until then.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly, leaning closer, his voice cutting through the low hum of the cabin.

y/n didn’t turn to him. didn’t even flinch. she simply nodded, her fingers fidgeting with her headphones. “i’m fine,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

but she wasn’t fine, and he knew it.

“you’ve been quiet,” he said, his tone careful, like he was afraid of pushing too hard. “more than usual. is it something i said? something i did?”

her chest tightened at his words, her stomach twisting painfully. she shook her head, still staring out of the window. “it’s nothing, trent. just tired.”

tired. she kept saying that, like it could explain the hollowness he saw in her eyes, the way she avoided his gaze, the way she had disappeared without a word in monaco.

trent leaned back in his seat, his jaw tightening. he hated this, hated not knowing how to fix whatever had gone wrong. “you disappeared for hours,” he said softly, almost to himself. “i thought something happened to you.”

“i’m here now,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion.

“but you weren’t,” he pressed, frustration creeping into his tone. “you just left. didn’t tell me where you were going, didn’t answer your phone. and now—” he stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “now you’re acting like i don’t even exist.”

her throat tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. acting like he doesn’t exist. she wished he didn’t, wished she could erase the memory of his hands on her skin, his voice murmuring soft words in the dark. but it was there, imprinted on her, and it made her feel sick.

she closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to stay composed. “i said i’m fine, trent. can we just drop it?”

but he couldn’t drop it. not when every instinct told him that she was hurting, that something was deeply wrong. “you can’t just shut me out like this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “i care about you, y/n. i—”

“stop,” she cut him off, finally turning to face him. her eyes met his for the first time, and the pain in them made his chest ache. “please, just stop.”

trent stared at her, his words caught in his throat. he didn’t understand. everything had been fine. better than fine. they had laughed, talked, connected in a way that felt natural, effortless. and then—

then they had slept together.

he pushed the thought away again, refusing to believe that it was the cause of this sudden shift. but the way she looked at him now, like being near him was unbearable, made doubt creep into his mind.

when the plane landed, y/n stood quickly, grabbing her bag and avoiding his gaze as she moved toward the exit. trent followed close behind, his mind racing.

outside the terminal, the cold uk air hit them like a slap. trent pulled his jacket tighter around himself, watching as y/n stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, her eyes downcast.

“so… what now?” he asked, his voice cautious.

she glanced at him briefly, her expression guarded. “i’ll be busy for a while. i need to work on the album.”

“busy?” he repeated, frowning. “for how long?”

“i don’t know,” she said, her voice flat. “a while.”

trent’s brows furrowed, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “y/n, can you just—”

“trent, please,” she interrupted, her voice cracking slightly. she swallowed hard, shaking her head. “i can’t do this right now.”

he stared at her, the words dying on his tongue. there was something final in her tone, something that made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“is this about monaco?” he asked finally, his voice quiet.

her body stiffened, and she let out a shaky breath, her eyes darting to the ground. she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see the tears that threatened to spill.

“i have to go,” she said instead, her voice barely above a whisper. she turned away before he could respond, her steps quick and purposeful.

trent watched her go, his chest tightening with a mix of confusion and helplessness. he didn’t understand what had gone wrong, didn’t know how to fix it. but as he stood there, the weight of her absence already settling over him, one thing was clear—this wasn’t just about monaco.

trent watched her walk away, the hollow space between them growing wider, feeling the unsettling ache of losing something he didn’t fully understand.

next

© PDRIESTA 2025

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

how to write a character who suffers a PTSD from their past toxic relationship, how they can react / what they might say in certain situations

trigger warnings for abuse, domestic violence, ed

how they can react in certain situations

✘ avoid making eye contact, but will look up to meet caretaker’s eyes immediately if caretaker tells them to — for instance, caretaker is concerned about whumpee who keeps their gaze on the floor all the time; so, without thinking, caretaker says, “ look at me”. it doesn’t matter if they say it in a soft, comforting tone, they immediately regret it because whumpee quickly jerks their head up to meet caretaker’s eyes, fully thinking caretaker will hurt them if they don’t obey.

✘ whumpee is used to receiving orders. they don’t understand the concept of saying no and not being punished for it. so anything caretaker asks them to do (keyword; ask, whumpee can absolutely say no), whumpee will comply whether or not they want to (but they will do their best to make sure it looks like they want to).

✘ avoid staying in a crowded room or even an open space. whumpee will most likely seek comfort from some quiet corner where they’re away from anybody and nobody can bother them.

✘ an open space where there’s no one around can also bother whumpee, because it’s not just about being surrounded by a lot of people that’s triggering to whumpee. being alone in an open space can make whumpee feel extremely exposed, like an easy target.

✘ so mostly, whumpee will seek some quiet corner where they are alone and aren’t easily seen.

✘ they don’t like being the center of attention or being talked about. because this can also make them feel vulnerable, uncomfortable and exposed.

✘ physical touch that comes with no heads up, the ones that catch whumpee off guard, can result in a terrible reaction from whumpee, even if it’s an act of affection (a hug, a friendly pat on the shoulder, etc), because whumpee has already associated all kind of physical contact with pain and violence. so if someone touches them, they reflexively expect it to hurt.

✘ being jumpy in general. they may flinch away at any loud noise, any physical touch.

✘ lack of opinions in general. if they have to engage in a conversation where more than two people are talking about something, whumpee will remain quiet. not because they’re shy but because they 1.) think their opinions don’t matter 2.) are afraid they might say something wrong that’ll get them punished 3.) don’t want to risk speaking out of turn.

✘ whumpee expect themself to be punished if they make a mistake, doesn’t matter how small the mistake is — for instance, whumpee accident knocks over a glass of water, causing it to shatter, and immediately starts to panic, because they believe they will get punished for it.

✘ the rules whumper previously set for whumpee may still be effective for whumpee, even if they’re with caretaker now; whumpee still follows whimper’s rules because 1.) it’s an old habit 2.) they just want to stay safe.

✘ they can react poorly to food. whumpee may have no appetite at all, and can develop a wave of anxiety that can lead to nausea if they’re forced to eat. (this doesn’t mean caretaker is supposed to just let them starve though, only that it can be challenging and caretaker has to be very careful about how they approach this, how they handle the situation to help whumpee.)

✘ insomnia. whumpee having trouble sleeping at night, this can cause them to feel tired during daytime.

things they can say in certain situations

✘ “it’s okay.”

✘ “I’m used to it.”

✘ “I can be good. I’ll be good.”

✘ “I don’t deserve this.” (on being shown kindness)

✘ “it’s what I deserve.” (on being hurt)

✘ “why are you kind to me?”

✘ “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” (on making a mistake)

✘ “please, don’t be mad at me.”

✘ “I’ll do better next time.”

✘ “you’re not angry?”

✘ “it’s up to you”

✘ “either is fine with me.” (on being asked to pick something or to give an opinion)

✘ “it’s my fault.”

[amberlynnmurdock]

All Mine

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Reader

Summary: Dex initially declines going out with you and your friends, but when he starts thinking of scenarios of men trying to flirt with you, he somehow finds himself in the bar to make sure that doesn't happen.

Genres: Angst

Warnings: 18+ content, SMUT, possessive!Dex, jealous!Dex, and I guess toxic!Dex? LOL just be prepared bc this might be the wildest fic ive written

ALSO shoutout to @mayajadewrites for helping me with getting the plot going, you GENIUS <3

Notes: I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS ONE let me know what you think! Enjoy! <3

When he sent his reply to you, Dex stood quietly on his balcony, thinking of ways he could take it back. 

“Thanks for the invite,” he typed regretfully, his anxiety getting the better of him, “but I think I’ll pass for tonight.”

“Are you sure?” He read your text in your sweet voice. “I want to see you.”

He knows you want to see him—he wants to see you just as badly, but the thought of socializing with people other than you was a less-than-ideal situation for Dex. He only preferred to be around you and only you. Part of him didn’t want to share you with other people, the other part simply didn’t want to be around them. 

“Next time,” Dex lied, a pinch in his heart. “I promise.” 

He waits five minutes, and then ten minutes, and when twenty minutes pass by, he knows the conversation ends there. Dex slides the door open and reenters his apartment, sitting quietly at his kitchen table, phone in front of him. 

Scenarios start playing in his mind: you’re only going out with your friends. He’s met some of them and doesn’t care for them at all, but at least he knows you’ll be with them and only them. What bar did you say you were going to? The Black Dog? It slowly dawns on him that other people you don’t know will be around you too, and it bothers him that he can’t control every action of every person. What if some guy tried talking to you? Offered to buy you a drink? Flirted with you? Or worse, what if you liked it enough to never talk to Dex again?

He can’t imagine another guy having good intentions like Dex has good intentions with you. Dex wants to keep you safe from people like that, people he doesn’t know. People who may have ill intentions for their own selfish needs. 

And how can he make sure that you’re safe from people like that, sitting alone in his apartment here, away from you? 

If there’s one thing that will get him out the apartment, it’s the thought of someone trying to take away his North Star from him. 

◎◎◎

Dex arrives at the bar before you do. He’s in his denim jacket and baseball cap. After quickly ordering a club soda from the bartender, he makes his way to the back and chooses a quiet corner to sulk in, to hide, to watch from afar. It’s what he’s most comfortable doing, it’s what he does best. 

He doesn’t touch the club soda at all, bubbles wasting their air in the glass. He watches the people that are in the bar with disdain. They’re all fools, he thinks to himself, but which one will be the unlucky one who tries to talk to you?

The next time the door opens, you walk in first followed by your friends and Dex sinks deeper in his seat, tilts his head down so his cap is hiding his face. He watches you from underneath, bringing the glass of club soda closer to him. His heart may be hard but his eyes go soft every time he looks at you. You’re laughing with your friends, and you look beautiful in your black sweater and jeans. You and your friends find a table in the middle of the bar and that’s when Dex takes note of the people that surround you.

Right now, no one’s paying mind to your table except for him. He smiles to himself each time he sees you laugh—tries to share in the moment with you even though you don’t know he’s there. He wonders what you whisper to your friend at one point. Whatever it is, your friend laughs and hits your shoulder. You have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc in front of you—Dex knows it’s the only white wine you’ll drink—and when you finish it, you look around for your server. 

The bar is much more crowded now and Dex has to move down a seat or two to keep his sights on you. He takes a deep breath and looks down when he sees you get up from your seat to go to the bar. When your back is to him, he looks up and watches as you patiently wait for a bartender’s attention. 

There are plenty of people at the bar, so many that not everyone is sitting on a stool. People squeeze in, lean on the counter, and move chairs out to fit more of their friends into conversations. You’re leaning with your left elbow on the bar, and Dex watches as you wait. Someone behind you accidentally pushes you, and both you and Dex react at the same time. You, startled from the contact, and Dex, sitting up more straight in his seat. He relaxes his shoulders after a few moments when he sees the person scoot their chair away from you, and you seemingly unbothered. 

You glance at your phone, scroll through something, and lock it again before putting it in your back pocket. Dex wonders if you re-read your messages like he does. He hopes so. You sigh, looking around the bar again—you weren’t having any luck getting a bartender’s attention.

And like a cloudy night ruining his view of his North Star, a man in a black jacket and boots stands directly in front of you. He’s got dark hair and a 5 o’clock shadow. Dex straightens in his seat again, high on alert. The man walks by you slowly in a calculative way. He doesn’t go unnoticed on Dex’s radar, not when he’s so close to you. The man walks by and inserts himself between a group, about five people away from you.

Dex feels his muscles tighten and he grips his glass of club soda hard. He has to let go of it so his entire focus is on the scene before him. Good thing he decided to come tonight—he knew this would happen. Dex watches you and then watches the man watching you. He doesn’t like how focused he is on you, how bad of an actor he is when he pretends to look around the bar just to look at you again. Dex takes a deep breath as he sees him slowly weave his way between people to stand next to you. He’s got something in his back pocket he keeps fiddling with. 

You’re oblivious, minding your business, waiting patiently for the bartender. At least Dex is there to protect you if anything were to go awry. He couldn’t have anything happen to you—the mere thought of it made him nauseous, losing someone so important to him, again. 

The man daringly asks the people who are standing next to you to move so he can have their spot. Dex’s throat goes dry as he sees the man brush his shoulder against yours purposefully. You glance up and move as much as you can, but the man moves closer to you again.

“Sorry, crowded bar,” the man says to you. At first glance, he’s handsome, but there’s something aggressive about his nature. 

“It’s alright,” you say shrugging your shoulders. You pretend to check your phone for something.

“You come here alone?” He asks you.

“No, I’m with my friends,” you smile, gesturing your head in their direction. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Really? You’re the first girl who’s ever turned down a free drink at a bar,” the man says, confused by your rejection. Perhaps even a little insulted. 

“I bet I’m not the first girl who’s rejected you point blank, though,” you say, hoping he gets the message. He’s taken aback by your words, and he doesn’t stop there.

“Bet you just haven’t had a guy like me dick you down to make you nicer.”

Dex doesn’t know what the conversation is, but from your body language and expression on your face, he knows it can’t be good. Whatever it was this man was saying to you, it was diminishing your light—his light—it was an attempt to take his North Star away. Dex stands up from his seat. 

It’s not until the man places his hand on your shoulder and then your neck that Dex feels his rage and jealousy course through his veins, so much so that it’s made him finally get up from his seat and walk straight toward you. The path to what was unfolding in front of him was like walking through a dark tunnel, and like a phantom appearing out of thin air, Dex walks up to the man, paying no mind to you, takes him by the collar of his cheap jacket and pushes him away from you.  

“Stay away from her,” Dex says in a cool tone, chest heaving, hands shaking from adrenaline. 

The man walks right up to Dex, and it’s comical that he thinks he even stands a chance. Dex glances around, the things around him becoming all too obvious. A napkin dispenser. A shot glass. A butter knife. They’re all too easy. 

“Dex,” he hears you call his name, and now there’s too many people looking at them, and the man in front of him is anticipating his next moves and for nothing because just as quickly as Dex made himself known, he’s out of the bar pushing past everyone and walking down the street. Away from those people. Away from you. He hears the door open behind him, unsure if it’s you or not. 

He couldn’t even look at you—ashamed of his actions, ashamed he let you see him like that, which wasn’t even his worse but damn near close to it. He’s leaning forward against a brick wall, catching his breath from the adrenaline of seeing you being touched by another man, trying not to black out from his rage. But you’re right behind him, shocked he was there to save you. What Dex wasn’t expecting were your arms snaking around his waist, resting your head against his back. 

Was it possible you weren’t mad at him for being like that?

“No one’s ever been protective of me like you,” you sigh against his back. Dex is shaking from the adrenaline but he finds it in him to stop and focus on your arms around him. He places his hands on yours and sighs. “Guess you decided to come after all?” You ask him. “I didn’t even see you walk in, but what hell of a timing that was.”

“It was timing,” Dex agrees with you and lies. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Look at me, Dex,” you say gently. Dex turns around in your arms and you reach up to take off his baseball cap to see his face. “Thank you.”

There’s something in his eyes you can’t read but you agree when he asks to go back to his place.

◎◎◎

“You know, if you wanted to hang just the two of us, you could’ve said so,” you say as you walk inside his apartment and throw your jacket on his couch. Dex turns around and locks the door, feeling calmer than he did before but still on edge. He places his baseball cap on the counter and hangs up his jean jacket. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your night with your friends.”

“It was sort of ruined anyway, but somehow got even better now that I’m here,” you smile. “Seriously, it’s crazy you were there in the nick of time.”

“Yeah,” Dex trails off. “I know.”

“You still seem on edge,” you say softly, “are you okay?”

Dex looks away from you and places both his fists on his hips. He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I—.” How does he say it, without saying it? That he nearly wanted to kill a man for touching you? He almost lost it in front of you and almost lost you?

“I couldn’t stand seeing someone touching you like that,” Dex explains. “I can’t get it out of my head.” 

“Try not to think about it,” you whispered and placed your hand on his face. Now Dex met your eyes. “Focus on me.”

It wasn’t until now he realized he was still shaking from the adrenaline. He never got it out before—the anger and jealousy were still bottled inside, running through his veins with no relief, because seeing you being touched like that by some man triggered something in Dex so strong that not even acting violently could calm him down. It festered in his chest like a sickness that could only be cured by your reassurance, your touch, your presence. 

And here you were in front of him, doing and giving him all of that. It’s what made it so easy for Dex to come to his conclusion that you were, in fact, all his—every part of you, everything, you were his alone. No one else ever had this effect on him the way you do. 

“I just want you to be safe with me,” Dex said, “only me.”

You smiled, even if you didn’t know the depths of his words. They came off to you as sweet nothings but to him it was law. It was no other way. It was unchangeable. 

“You’re mine,” Dex said in a guttural voice, his eyes half moons as he looked at you, “all mine.” His anger and jealousy started to shift into something else the more he looked at you. The more you absorbed his words and listened to him. He knew he had your full attention and he wanted more. The pit of this started beneath the button of his jeans. It was deeper than his heart. 

“Make it so,” you squint your eyes in return, succumbing to his intense gaze. 

Dex placed both his hands on your arms and traced the length of you slowly. You took a step closer to him so your chest was touching his. 

“I control myself so well around you,” Dex says in a low voice, “but right now I don’t want to.”

“So don’t,” you smirk, running your lips lightly against his. 

Dex swallows hard before his fingers find the hem of your sweater and pull it over your head. You stand in front of him in nothing but your jeans and bra and to Dex, it’s still not enough.  Dex runs his fingertips on your sides and slides his hand to your back, swiftly unclasping your bra. You shiver against his touch which is all too sweet.

“Dex,” you say in a low voice, “so don’t.” You repeated what you said before, hoping he got your message. 

Dex lifts an eyebrow and takes a deep breath, his dark eyes looking you up and down before relying purely on instinct. Dex lifts you up into his arms and you wrap your legs around him as he carries you to his bedroom and gently throws you on his bed. You land on your back and spread yourself on his fitted sheets, sheets he knows will be in ruins when he’s had you how wants. 

“I’m the only one who can see you like this,” Dex says. He takes his shirt off and reaches down to unbutton your jeans, slowly sliding them off your legs. You’re shaking. You nod at his words, whatever he says, that’s okay. 

Dex leans over you, his dirty blonde hair pushed to one side, his dark eyes looking at every inch of your skin. You don’t feel self-conscious, you feel seen. Dex kisses your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, and soon he’s peppering kisses between your breasts and down the length of your torso before he kisses the part you’re aching for. 

“I’m the only one who can touch you like this,” Dex says softly as he looks up at you from below. He places his hands on either of your thighs and spreads you open, so he’s face to face with your wetness. “And this,” he says, placing a thumb on your clit and putting not enough pressure on it, “is mine.”

“Okay,” you nod and close your eyes. Dex takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours while he kisses your sex and drags his tongue slowly over your folds. You press your head deeper in his mattress and take a long, deep breath. Dex begins to lap at your folds, licking you slowly and then faster, and when he gently wraps his lips on top of your clit and begins to suck on your sensitive bud, you let out a soft moan. 

“I’m the only one who can make you sound like that,” Dex looks up momentarily before he continues eating you out. He looks up at you with his mouth on your clit and closes his eyes again. He keeps licking up your wetness and feels his cock harden in his jeans, aching to replace his mouth with it. But not yet. 

“Dex,” you beg softly, “kiss me.”

Dex stops licking you up and moves up on his bed to be face to face with you. His lips are shiny from your wetness, but you don’t care. Dex slowly leans down and touches his lips to yours. You hold his face in your hands and hold him there for a few moments, opening your mouth to let his tongue in, you taste yourself on his lips. Dex deepens the kiss and you wrap your legs around him again. He places his hands under your back and lifts you, urging you to lay on your chest. You rest your head on his pillow and listen as he unzips his pants and throws them off.

  He puts his hands on your waist and lifts you so your ass is up. Dex spreads your legs and slowly slides in two fingers inside your pussy.

“So wet,” Dex whispers, “just for me.” He continues sliding his fingers in and out of your pussy. He pushes your hand to the side and leans down to kiss you in the crook of your neck. It sends butterflies to your sides, the feeling of his soft lips kissing you sweetly. And the sweetness is gone when you feel Dex’s cock slowly enter inside you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Dex.”

“Say my name,” he whispers in a low voice in your ear.

“Dex,” you moan again as he begins to rock his cock back and forth inside of you slowly, feeling your tightness wrap around him. Dex’s arms are on either side of your head, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. He fastens his pace thrusting inside you, feeling you move against him. You feel so wet and so tight around him, he bites your shoulder softly and says your name. 

“You’re taking me so well,” Dex whispers, “You’ll always be mine.”

“Yeah,” you moan, “you feel so good, Dex.”

“Fuck,” he lets a curse slip out as the more he thrusts his cock inside you the more wet you feel. “Taking me so well,” he says in a deep voice. 

“I’m so close, Dex,” you moan, and when you say this, Dex completely pulls out and you feel the absence of his size, absence of his closeness. Dex doesn’t want to finish with your face away from him. He wants to look into your eyes, see your face as his cock brings you to orgasm. Gone was the dominance, the real Dex wanted this to be special. 

He flips you over onto your back and spreads your legs and wraps them around his waist. Before he enters you again, Dex is breathing heavily, and he reaches up his fingers to caress the side of your face. Your lips are parted—you’re out of breath too—and the gravity of tonight’s earlier situation hits him. He never wants you to feel unsafe again. The only way that can happen is if Dex is in your life.

“You mean a lot to me,” Dex says, and it really is the closet thing he can say to those three dating little words. You smile at him, place your own hand on his face too. You don’t need to say anything. He knows you feel the same. And Dex slowly pushes himself inside your pussy again, feeling your tightness clench him and his size fill you up perfectly. Your face contorts with pleasure and you breath a heavy sigh. The tip of his cock hits your sweet spot each time he thrusts inside you. “You’re mine,” Dex says again as he picks up his pace. 

“Oh, Dex,” you pull him even closer as he continues pounding you into orgasm. Dex's eyes are dark as he holds this intense gaze with you, watching you orgasm like his life depended on it. Your so tight and went around him, when you finally come down from orgasm, Dex finally lets himself reach his own climax. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Dex’s own face contorts and it’s the sexiest you’ve ever seen him, coming so undone like this. He spills his cum inside you on his final thrust and feels his seed fill you up. You feel him spurt deeply and it feels euphoric to feel all of him inside you like this. 

If your relationship wasn’t clear before, it sure was now. You belonged to Dex and he you. As much as you were his, he was all yours. 

[a-simple-imagine]

mean girls mob au

A/N - forever thinking about my mean girls mob au. where everyone is some sort of career criminal but regina george is the worst one around so here’s some 2am thoughts .

characters - regina, gretchen, karen, cady, janis, damian and reader

WARNINGS - mention of violence, murder, and general illegal activity. weapons mentioned including knives and guns. toxic relationships. mutual obsession. dark themes idk

Regina George. she/her. leader -

she was born into this life. maybe directly her parents. maybe a close relative but either way she has known nothing but riches her entire life. her family is loaded. massive houses. expensive cars. she doesn’t know the meaning of the word struggle because life has just been so easy for her. until it’s not. maybe her father gets arrested for something. or someone close enough for it to have an impact dies. but soon enough reality hits regina that it’s not all pretty dresses and fancy parties. there’s a darker side to it all. her father tried to keep her out of it all but regina is stubborn. and eventually her father realises he needs someone to take over one day. so she’s taught the ropes slowly but surely until mean girl regina george who bullies kids in school and gets everything she wants becomes one of the most lethal women in the country. she’s involved in almost every shady deal that does on around her. drugs. murder. fraud. she’s done it all. it’s the only way to live. she’s very good with a gun but much prefers knives. pretty ones with engraved blades and sleek handles. they’re much more personal. you have to be up close to do any real damage. she likes to see the fear in people. the way their body reacts in their last moments. its a rarity that she deals with things herself but when she does she likes the play with her prey. draw it all out. she loves it. she’s obsessed with the hold she has over other people. some people are desperate to be loved but she couldn’t care less about that. it’s all about control. she wants people to fear her. not a bad word is uttered against regina george. but she’s not alone. she has a crew. and if nothing else, regina george is insanely loyal and pays very very well.

Gretchen weiners. she/her. right hand. -

gretchen is regina’s right hand man. they probably grew up together. her father probably worked alongside regina’s which is how this relationship formed in the first place. they often played together at family barbecues or whatever. through school gretchen knew it was better to stick with regina than be bullied by regina. she knew how ruthless the george family could be. so she’d support regina however she wanted. so from bullying kids to intimidating strangers, gretchen weiners has and always will be right by regina’s side. she would do anything for that woman. all regina has to do is snap her fingers and gretchen would come running. but that doesn’t mean gretchen isn’t ruthless in her own way. she’s the one doing the dirty work. she’s the one making sure everything runs smoothly whether it’s making people disappear or making sure deals go through. gretchen has probably seen much more action than regina. probably killed more people too. she prefers a gun. it puts more distance between what she’s doing but she’ll do anything. although it is all in service of regina. you’ll often find her at the bar in the main club the george family owns. an office upstairs where regina does most of her work. she enjoys getting cheeky cocktails when it’s quiet.

karen shetty. she/her. driver -

now karen met the girls a little later. maybe in high school or maybe a little after. regina probably tried to intimidate her but it never really worked on her. not in the same way it did for others and that was something that caught regina’s eye. now karen is the nicest person around. she is someone who says hi to everyone when she comes in every day. is making cute little friendship bracelets for the bouncers at the club. but her main role is driving. not just a general driver, regina pays boring white men for that, no karen is only for important jobs. she’s absolutely insane behind the wheel. can outrun anyone on the road like it’s child’s play because for her it basically is. she loves playing games. and driving can often feel like a game of cat and mouse. she’s also really handy with a weapon. maybe guns. maybe pretty knives. has a bad habit of causing… accidents but nobody ever stays mad at her. she loves dancing at the club and chatting with gretchen at the bar.

cady heron. she/her. new kid. -

now cady is the new girl in town and therefore has a lot to prove. maybe she gets mixed up with the wrong kinds of people. but she doesn’t stay at the bottom long, no she aimed straight for the top. maybe she had some help along the way. maybe there was a moment where she tried to make deals with regina but they never really worked out. regina never played particularly nice with others. that’s okay though because cady somehow found her way. she leads her own team. but she rules through mutual respect rather than fear at least within her own ranks. she finds a little place to set up shop, her own bar. it’s probably really small but it’ll do for now. but if she wants to stay alive she’ll have to either make nice or beat the competition. and unlucky for her regina is the competition. but she figures the easiest way to destroy regina is to go after the most precious thing in regina’s world.

damien hubert. he/him. bartender -

less important to the world than the others but still plays a role. he’s a bartender. just doing regular bartender work. maybe he has multiple jobs in both regina’s and cady’s places or maybe he’s just in regina’s but either way that’s his primary job. he loves interacting with people can usually tell when people are there for business or pleasure. both clubs work as normal clubs too that regular civilians can attend. he loves a good gossip but more so when it comes from the right kinds of people. he is known for having his ear to the ground. knows everything about everyone and is willing to share any information… for the right price. his side gig is in intel. he sells valuable crime secrets for massive amounts of money. runs a weekly poker night for the scariest/richest people in town. it usually puts all kinds of criminals against each other.

janis imi’iki’. she/her/they/them. artist/art dealer. -

a loner. makes art. probably spends a lot of time in the studio working on original pieces. they’re really talented. maybe they sell under a fake name, maybe they don’t. but they get invited to all kinds of fancy parties for the rich and famous. you can find her works in mansions and town houses but only the mindless drivel that she doesn’t care about. anything important to them is reserved for the people she actually cares about or shared for free through donations or exhibitions. she’s also a renowned art trader. big in the trade of illegal or forged art work. they probably paint a lot of the forgeries. it’s easy work and money. plus scamming rich people is fun. they have a bad relationship with regina. probably started when they were younger. now they just avoid each other or more so janis avoids regina. regina loves to try and provoke them especially if she sees them in her club. they’re probably there to see damien who helps facilitate buyers for their business.

BONUS: reader -

the reader is whoever. maybe this whole world is new to them, maybe it’s not. maybe this runs in their blood but they’ve just never been very good. but the most important thing is that regina is obsessed with you. utterly enthralled. does that mean she’s nice to you?? well, yes and no. she can be really cruel. she probably calls you weak an pathetic. sees you as some whose way out of their depth. likes to make a show of you. humiliate you. she’s probably held a knife to your neck once or twice just to see the look in your eye. she’s in complete control. can do whatever she wants and there’s nothing you can say or do about it. not if you valued your life anyway. she loves to shower you with expensive gifts though. especially clothes and jewellery. likes to see you dressed exactly how she wants. just a little doll to dress up and parade around. but as cruel as she can be regina would also move heaven and earth to make sure you’re okay. everyone knows your off limits. so much as bad word about you from anyone else and she’ll have their tongue cut out. and you go absolutely crazy for it. the dynamic is intoxicating. you love just how far she’ll go. it gives you a level of power that nobody else has. you’re untouchable. everyone is forced to respect you or face regina’s wrath. it takes a while for you to get used to being a part of her world. it was fancy and expensive but also dark and gritty. she tries to keep you out of it. but it’s hard not to notice the little things. splatters of blood. disappearances. you’re not stupid. but you just let it happen because just like everyone else you want to please regina. you want her to like you. to be interested in you. you’re not sure you could go back to before you were the centre of her world. regina teaches you some things like how to defend yourself. maybe how to shoot a gun and it’s exciting. when she’s so close and focused. pressed up against you. guiding your shot. it’s sweet. but you know to some extent that this can’t last forever. something will happen one day. she’ll get killed or arrested or whatever. maybe she’ll have to do something she’ll regret because of you. because while you are her greatest possession you’re also her biggest weakness.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Titania McGrath

Published: May 11, 2024

I was recently invited to Meghan Markle’s mansion in California for a brainstorming session on how to challenge privilege. We chatted over a light luncheon of vegan shakshuka, braised turmeric tofu and some truffle-infused seaweed that Meghan had helicoptered in that morning from Guyana.

The Sussexes do like to keep their carbon footprint to a minimum, so they only ever use one helicopter at a time.

I for one have been shocked that Meghan and Harry’s lifestyle and wellness projects have not been better received. Meghan’s Archetypes podcast with Spotify didn’t prove as successful as she’d hoped, partly because nobody seemed to be interested in what she had to say.

My feeling is that the public needs to get to know the real Meghan. People should realise what a positive influence she has been on Harry. For one thing, his toxic masculinity has all but disappeared ever since she removed his testicles for an installation art piece.

Now, the couple are planning to re-establish their brand in the UK. It turns out that Harry’s decision to write a book slagging off the Royal Family hasn’t endeared him to the British people. The masses are so fickle.

It hasn’t been easy for them. The British media is so inexplicably hostile to Meghan, just because she said they were all evil and racist. In the end, the couple were forced to flee to California to live a quiet and reclusive life. As Meghan said to those 17 million viewers on that interview with Oprah Winfrey, she just wants her privacy.

Even now, the press won’t stop writing articles about Harry. They twist everything he says to try and make him look bad. Some journalists even implied that there was something “weird” about the part of his book where he mentioned that he daubed his penis with his late mother’s favourite lip cream.

After the success of their Netflix documentary, though, Harry and Meghan are keen to branch out into making movies. I hear that they’re considering a feminist reimagining of The Godfather, or possibly an all-black remake of Schindler’s List.

[su-whisterfield]

Nightcrawler Week day seven, free choice, so it’s slash, of course, as I’ve been slashing Kurt/Logan since 1980.

Light, short, mostly safe for work, hurt comfort, following on from Wolverine 1 by Saladin Ahmed and Martín Cóccolo.

Family Affairs.

He jerks out from deep sleep with a gasp and a string of German obscenities.

“Hey, hey,” I reach out to him in the dim light. “It’s okay, Elf, it’s okay.”

A couple of deep breaths. “Ja, ja, okay, I’m okay.” Except he’s shaking an’ he’s clearly ain’t okay. He settles down again, head on my chest, I keep my arm around him.

I know what trauma looks like, been there done that, most recently at the hands of someone I thought was a friend; not sure I’ll ever want to around McCoy ever again, not sure I’ll ever trust him again or trust myself not to end him.

“Want to talk about it, about her?” He’s quiet for a while, I can tell by his breathing that he’s still awake. Bad enough to be betrayed, used, abused by a friend, but Margali fuckin’ Szardos is his fuckin’ mother. Foster mother, splitting hairs, mother enough to count. How could she? She didn’t just turn her son into a monster (this gentle man who so values his humanity), she sold him to Orchis, to the goddam enemy. Bitch. She been on a slippery slope for years now, well, next time she shows her horned head, it’s going to be the last. She ain’t gonna hurt him anymore.

He sighs and sits up. “Sorry.”

“You ain’t got nothing to say sorry for, Elf.”

“I woke you,” he knows I don’t sleep well.

“Nah, I was awake,” I was thinking about the Mounties that Silas slaughtered. An’ the hunter. An’ my pack. All dead, because of me. But he doesn’t need that right now. I hold my arms open and he gets the hint and lies down again.

See, I know my lad, know him well, he don’t bottle up shit like most of us. Wears his heart on his sleeve, always has done. And he cares, cares about all of us, his team, his people, those Mounties, Dave the hunter, even my pack.

But what his mom did to him, it’s eating him up, that’s what the nightmares are about, and he needs to talk it through.

So he talks, I listen. He cries, I hold him. He talks some more.

He came up into the mountains to find me, because our people need me, but he needs me too.

Then he tells me about Mystique and Destiny.

“Yer joshin’ me!?”

“Nein,” he’s smiling, I can hear it in his voice. “She is my papa, not my mutter.”

I let that wash over me for a while. They’re a nasty pair, Raven an’ Irene, made all the worse whenever they’re together. They make the lives of everyone around them miserable and neither him nor their adoptive daughter, Anna Marie, our Rogue, owe them anything.

“You sure?”

He raises his head from my chest, the dressing is shocking white against the blue. “It is her truth, at least for now, whether it stays the truth, I don’t know.” He trusts her no more than I do. Good.

“How?” I’m having real trouble getting my head around this. “What about what’s his name? Aster?”

“Azerael.”

“Yeah, him. Asterisk.” I’m doing it deliberately now, mangling the name and he’s letting me, the mischief is back in his golden eyes, the smile not just for show.

“You could ask her?” He is well aware of Raven’s history with me. No, no thank you, I’ve had enough of that toxic bitch to last a lifetime. I give him a hard stare. “I mean, you and her were…” he continues, waves his hand for emphasis, he really doesn’t want to say it. Neither do I. “I’m sure she’d love to tell you how she uses men for their… genetic potential .” Little shit is openly smirking now.

“Hey,” I scowl. Time to get off that particular subject. “I thought I told ya’, Misfit. No one laughs at The Wolverine.”

He bows his head and blows a raspberry on my shoulder. He’s been laughing at me all these years, showing no sign of stopping now. I hope he never does.

[babybluebanshee]

Don’t Hug Me, I’m Scared is what happens when two deeply toxic people try and fail to cope with the death of someone they simultaneously loved and viewed as a burden

(within the universe of the show, obviously I don’t mean Joe and Becky. I don’t know their lives)

Meet Roy and Lesley - two young creatives trapped in the drudgery of capitalism. They make each other laugh with songs about dancing files and asides that the boss got where he is because he just wandered into the office and didn’t leave. They want to break away from the world of vending machine coffee and office small talk and create something, something that will make a difference. But making your favorite idea takes two things they don’t have - money and confidence. So, for a while, their dreams stay dreams. And then one day during an office retirement party, they decide sick of waiting. They propose marriage and a business partnership. They’ll make their dream a reality even if it kills them.

At first, things are fine. They create a lovely little program about a duck and a monster man, teaching children about the world through song and laughter. Sometimes Roy wants to cut a few too many corners, is a bit too obsessed with saving money, but he means well. Lesley’s ideas are sometimes a bit too out there - Roy has to remind her a lot that they’re writing for children, it doesn’t have to be that deep - and she doesn’t always take criticism well, but she’s just dedicated to the craft. They always make up no matter how many fights they have. Around the same time they finally have a finished project, ready to be pitched, Lesley announces she’s pregnant.

They’re thrilled to be parents. When David is born, it almost makes them forget how many times the show has been rejected, how many retools they’ve had to do to make their ideas appeal to someone, anyone. Funds are tight, tensions are high, but surely having the sweet, innocent face of a baby will help them calm down. Lesley decides that’s what’s missing in the show - a child character, to ask questions and be guided by his loving adult companions and a constantly changing array of musical teachers. David becomes a character in the show, a representation of every child they’re trying to help teach.

But it quickly becomes clear that there’s something not right about David. He doesn’t smile as much as other babies, doesn’t babble or imitate sounds he hears. When other children are starting to talk, David stays quiet. Leslie explains to her other mum friends that he’s just a great thinker. It takes him a long time to walk, and when he does, he’s very clumsy. Roy laughs it off, saying he’s no prima ballerina himself. The boy will get the hang of it. But symptoms keep piling up - David sometimes rocks back and forth and stares into space. He doesn’t look people in the eye when they speak to him. He moves his hands around in odd ways and repeats words over and over. He covers his ears whenever he and Lesley go to the park because it’s too loud, complains his clothes hurt, food feels weird. He hates being hugged. His parents try to be understanding, but as stressed as they are, something has to give.

Roy gets angrier. He grows to resent his son and all his mystifying quirks. He just knows that the boy is doing it on purpose, and if he would just listen to his father and stop acting so strange, then everything would be fine. Lesley, meanwhile, shuts herself off. She hides away and daydreams about how things are “supposed” to be - her show is supposed to be famous by now. David is supposed to be normal. Her marriage is supposed to be strong. Her life is supposed to be better. And she can’t stand being reminded that none of that is true.

Then the unthinkable happens - David dies. While his mother was hiding in her fantasies and his father was stewing in anger, David wandered out the front door, chasing a bird. An oncoming driver didn’t stop in time.

After the doctor gave them the news, Roy and Lesley got a phone call - their show has finally been picked up. Each iteration of the show is Roy and Lesley refusing to properly process their grief and accept that their negligence lead to David’s death. He’s immortalized in the show forever, but in different ways. He’s no longer a human who lived and felt and was real. He’s a character that Roy and Lesley can make do and be whatever they want.

Roy uses the show to vent his frustrations, to punish David for all he put him through. He polices David’s actions, telling him the right way to create and feel and eat and dream, the way ROY thinks he should. After all, if David had only listened to him, he’d still be alive. As Red and Duck start questioning his decisions, asking him to stop being so aggressive and overstimulating, he eliminates them. The avatar of David is left all alone to face his father’s mounting violence and cruelty. We see Roy’s understanding of how the show was created - he plucked Lesley from obscurity and gave her everything, without him there’d be no show, and Lesley would still be making files dance as their coworkers looked at her in annoyed confusion.

Lesley uses the show as a way to fix things. David is still alive and she can make sure he grows up right - he learns about making friends and driving a car and grown up things like bills and insurance and getting a stable job. All the teachers are gentler, kinder. What she would have been if she could. And everything resets at the end. Even when things become horrifying, even when everyone is lost and scared, even when faced with death, Lesley always has backups. No mistakes this time, she just knows it. And if the avatar of David ever starts asking questions, ever starts wondering what’s beyond this house, where Lesley can keep him safe? She can always distract him, tidy up, and start over. Lesley’s thoughts on the show’s creation is that, if it wasn’t for her, Roy would have been perfectly content to waste his life as an office drone because he didn’t have the courage to break out.

It doesn’t matter which of them is right. All that matters is the show. And no matter what they do, David is still gone. All they have left is this puppet they seem to have very limited control over. It’s clearly taking its toll on them, physically. They’re barely human anymore. No matter how they twist and turn, they’re still just dancing in chains.

I wonder what will happen.

[desmon1995]

The Warriors and their Odyssey of misogyny

I can’t stop thinking about how The Warriors is more relevant now than ever, especially in the wake of the 2024 election. This isn’t just a story about gang conflicts and survival—it's a brutally honest reflection of the world that marginalized people have to navigate every day. At its core, it’s about fighting through a sea of misogyny and toxic masculinity to survive in a system that’s dead set on crushing those who don’t fit its narrative.

Let’s start with Luther. He’s a white incel in every sense—angry, destructive, and, above all, ready to deflect blame the moment he’s caught in his own violence. After killing a black female activist, he immediately accuses the Warriors. Cleon, a character who knows what it means to fight for your community, begs for reason, for justice. But it’s hopeless—Luther’s lie spreads through his gang the Rouges, and every gang believes him. They want to believe the white man’s narrative. This is how the Warriors become outcasts, hunted by everyone.

What’s chilling, though, is how The Warriors dives deep into the nuances of toxic masculinity, showing it in forms we recognize all too well.

First, we have the Turnbull ACs—the poster boys of hyper-masculine violence. They’re the first to pursue the Warriors, and they’re more than willing to turn their hunt into something brutal. The ACs don't just want revenge; they want to dominate, to assert their power over the Warriors in every violent way possible. All in the name of Cyrus, no less—a symbol of a leader they’ll never understand. And they’re acting this way because of a lie, blindly following a dangerous white man’s narrative without question. It’s the rawest depiction of machismo and rage—almost an anthem of how Men of Color end up perpetuating harmful Eurocentric viewpoints just be a part of a society that hates them too.

Then come the Orphans. The Orphans are all talk, acting like the typical online "alpha males" we see on Reddit or Twitter. They talk big about their strength and what they’d do to women, but they’re nothing but insecure. The moment a more feminine-presenting Warrior flirts with them, they back down, only to puff up again when Mercy questions their manhood. It’s pathetic, really, but also painfully real. As soon as the Warriors fight back, the Orphans crumble, showing us exactly how performative their masculinity truly is.

Then there’s the Hurricanes—the only group to stand with the Warriors. They’re queer, and they know what it’s like to be outcast, to run because society sees you as something to be destroyed. The Hurricanes offer a quiet, resilient kind of mentorship, showing the Warriors that they don’t have to run—that they can fight. The solidarity here is beautiful, and historically resonant. Queer rights and women’s rights are so deeply intertwined because they’ve both faced the brutal crush of patriarchy, especially from those determined to keep the world “pure” and “safe” for white, conservative ideals. The Hurricanes help the Warriors see their own power, and it’s their influence that eventually allows them to survive.

But the most frightening group? The Bizzies. They’re the “nice guys,” the false allies who sing about being there to help. In their song “We Got You,” they say everything marginalized people want to hear. They’re supportive, kind, and reassuring—until they get you in a dark place, where your screams can’t be heard. Cowgirl lets her guard down with them, only to find out that their support was a façade. The Bizzies are insidious because this happens all the time in real life. Fake allies talk about helping marginalized people but vanish or even turn hostile the moment things get difficult. In 2024, we’re reminded every day that this kind of allyship is hollow.

A recent Vulture review questioned why most of the male characters in The Warriors are “bad” and argued that this one-sided view “limits” the story. But here’s the thing: this isn’t one-sided for those of us who are marginalized. For women, queer folks, and people of color, this is our reality. The Warriors reveals what’s true for many of us: that we have to rely on each other, and that the fight for our own freedom is in our hands because no one else will fight it for us without diluting or dismissing it.

In a way, The Warriors is the sequel to Hamilton we need in 2024. It’s a call to action, a piece that understands what it means to exist on the fringes of a world that was never designed for you. For those who think this story isn’t “realistic,” I urge you to think about what it means to live without the privilege of being heard, of being believed. This is the life marginalized communities face every day—the struggle of knowing that no matter how loud we shout, society might never listen.

We’re the ones who have to make our voices heard. And The Warriors reminds us that we’re not alone in this fight.

[seraphicsage]

Reader and cat blanc being psychotic and fluffy, kissing and being extreme and toxic so you’re both crazy and it’s only you two left

A/n this is the unhinged crazy shit that makes my brain go brrrrr (i’ve got problems shush). Not my best work, I’m not used to actually channeling my slight psychopathic tendencies and unhinged shit into my writings so this was a first! And I would love to have more so I can channel it into stuff (since yk can’t really talk about that stuff with people) and to get better at writing it for people like me!! So do keep it coming if you liked this!

And please please give me some feedback, good and bad just please be specific!!

Finally. It’s just us. It took far too long to get here, to destroy everything so that all that’s left is our own private utopia, but it was worth it.

We’ve made our own makeshift home to sleep in and be together out of the ruins of Paris. An old mattress on the floor, and some blankets that chat found for us. What more do we need?

We wake up our first morning alone, I bask in the sweet emptiness of it all. No noise. No one telling me what to do. No one thinking they’re better than me. I’m free. For once even the voices in my mind are quiet, satisfied. Everything is quiet. It’s blissful.

Well quiet except him. He’s purring next to me. Chat. He did this, for us. He destroyed everything for us. For me. Just because I asked him to. I look at his sleeping face and wonder what else he’d have been willing to do. Everything apparently.

This is the kind of control I always dreamed of possessing. And he gave it to me, just like that. Completely willingly. The kind of power I never thought I’d achieve.

He’s given me the whole world, I realise, lying there, staring at him. He saw what I wanted, what I needed, and sacrificed every part of him to give it to me. Now that, is devotion.

I see his eyes begin to flutter open and confusion fill his face before he remembers yesterday’s events. Satisfaction fills his eyes as he looks at me again.

I feel his hands move to my waist, gripping tight as he smiles gently at me. You’d almost think him sane by his face. But I’ve never been fooled by that act, and even if I started to slip, the tight grip he has on me brings me back to reality fast.

He leans down and presses light kisses to my shoulder, it quickly becomes almost obsessive and I can feel him loosing control, I grip his hair to keep him from going far but I don’t stop his assault on my shoulders and face.

“It’s just us now. No one can hurt us. We’re free.” I say to him, though I’m not sure he’s listening. “Only I can hurt you now.” I whisper. I know he can hear me, but even that doesn’t deter him, in fact I think I hear him purr just a little louder.

Chat lost his grip on reality long ago, though I tried to keep him together while the others were still alive. Now that it’s just us I can feel him letting go completely. Honestly, I feel myself embracing it too. I’ve been walking on the line of insanity for years thanks to my family, even being accused of being a psychopath once. Now I can let it go, no more faking it.

I look around me, at the stone statues of Paris’ so-called heroes, surrounding our new home, frozen in a state of fear and panic, and I realise that this is what I’ve been dreaming of. I deserve every moment of this, finally they all got what they deserved.

[nayatarot777]

how can you feed your spirit? • pac

if you’re interested in a personal video reading, my patreon readings, or my youtube readings, then find the links to all of those things on my website here!

• pile one •

you guys may feel like you really have a hole in your soul or a hole in your spirit due to someone who lacked so much empathy. someone who had so much hidden envy or jealousy towards you. someone who showed you fake love to get what they wanted from you. it doesn’t matter who this person is - they could be a fake family member, a fake friend, a coworker, a bitch-made partner who saw multiple things in you that they were threatened by and jealous of. your guides are telling you to not be afraid to use your voice and speak up about this and how they’ve hurt you. whether they see it or not, getting out what you want to say will heal you a lot. you could put them on blast online. because this person holds a lot of secrets - and therefore made you feel like you had to hold onto secrets due to the effects of this person’s bs behaviour towards you. don’t be afraid to speak up about thus. you will have support and you will have people who are a circle of protection for you. i’m hearing that this person literally tried to end you in some way. for some of you literally and for others of you figuratively, with the way that they tried to crush your spirit any chance that they could. i’m gonna put it out there - this person is highly narcissistic. they don’t feel guilt or remorse for what they did. they don’t feel bad at all. they don’t have a heart. they’re probably the types of people who come across like they don’t even have a soul and that’s why yours triggered them so much. this is someone who doesn’t feel anything, so don’t feel bad for putting this person on blast. you hold a lot of knowledge on this person that they want you to keep quiet about. they expect you to hold the burdens of what they did to you in silence as if they’re owed that. they’re owed nothing. especially not from you. any anxiety that you’ve been experiencing due to this person and what you had to endure, you can relieve through divination (tarot in particular), just like how what you’re doing now. there may still be things that you’re not entirely clear on and divination will give you more of an objective and birds-eye view of this person and this situation. it’s time to write or speak about what you experienced with this person. and doing this online could definitely be the best method of doing so. it’s time to change the dynamic between you, because you’re holding burdens that shouldn’t and don’t belong to you. they belong to this person. so take them off of you and give it to who’s supposed to have it.

• pile two •

you guys could definitely have a fear of having responsibility over your own life. it seems like you reject opportunities that allow you to take a more authoritative approach and become the ruler of your own life. perhaps because you’ve been infantilised by parents or caregivers so much. and while they could’ve done this out of love and care for you, they haven’t done you any favours by doing this since you’re now someone who doesn’t know how to lead yourself without someone else telling you what to do. for others of you, these people infantilised you by instilling fear of the world and of life in general into you so that you’d always be dependent onto them. because that’s how they keep you tethered to them - even if they’re toxic or maybe even abusive towards you. a lot of you could feel like you’re a lot younger internally than you are physically, and this is the reason why. the first thing that you need to do is to practice some type of self-love. if you’re into witchcraft, do some self-love spells. i’m also seeing that a lot of you need to drink more water. as a way of easing yourself into responsibility in life, you could start with something small like caring for a plant daily. or taking responsibility over your health by setting an exercise routine or going for daily walks or something like that. you just need to find something that allows you to step into your power. any fear that you have towards stepping out of your comfort zone needs to be addressed. you need to look within yourself and do some ‘shadow work’. what about the world or what about life scares you so much? there may also be some responsibility that you have in terms of spiritual gifts. especially if you’re a tarot reader yourself or if you’re just clairvoyant or something similar. you may be rejecting these gifts but you shouldn’t. your power is in this, and every-time you reject these gifts, you reject your strengths. i’m also hearing that you could take more responsibility over your diet too. to choose healthier food options - especially if you’re from a family that doesn’t prioritise something like that. you need to stop rejecting yourself and your own power. if you have parents and family who genuinely love you and don’t just view you for how doing everything for you can feed their ego and their sense of self-importance, then they’ll understand the natural part of life where you have to grow into your own person. if not, then they’ll just try to reject and negatively influence any type of authority and leadership that you take for yourself over your own life - but this is needed.

• pile three •

you need to put yourself on a higher pedestal, pile three. you need to elevate the viewpoint that you have of your true self. you have experiences of being vilified for speaking up for yourself and saying exactly what you mean, and that’s caused a lot of shame within you - simply just because you spoke truths and people didn’t like it (probably because you were exposing their bs), but if you allow yourself to shut yourself up and not use your voice, you’re letting these people silence you completely and to destroy the strength of your voice that you have. you’re the person who’s not afraid to say what everyone else is thinking - but what everyone else is too afraid to say. the strongest person in the room will always try to be taken down by others who are intimidated by them. if people didn’t see you as a force to be reckoned with, they wouldn’t feel threatened by you in the first place, right? this vilification may have really affected your confidence and your ability to see yourself in a positive light. and perhaps your ability to listen to your intuition too, due to being gaslit out of what you know that you know. it’s time to step into some bravery and not be afraid of being seen as the villain by those who are the actual villains themselves. perhaps there are some things that you need to address about your home life or within your family. they probably won’t like what you have to say and they probably will try to paint you out to be the bad guy like always, but there’s going to be more strength that you find in yourself speaking your truth and being known as the villain instead of suppressing yourself. for a lot of you, your family has implemented so much rage, anger, and sadness within you. you’re going to be vilified either way so you might as well live in your truth, right? you have more of a higher perspective than any of these people and you know the truth about whatever situations people try to push you away from seeing and speaking about. when you speak the truth, you unmask the people full of negative energy, behaviour, and mindsets. and i’m hearing that for some of you, you could feel like this person or these people are literally evil - the devil incarnate, even. you don’t have to listen to the shit that comes out of these people’s mouths about you, but they’ll always be listening to what you have to say out of fear of you exposing them some more. do it 🤭.

• pile four •

the first thing that i’m seeing for you is that you should focus on healing yourself sexually. you could be a very sexual person or sexually open behind closed doors, but you still have some sexual shame from expectations and familial or societal pressures put onto you. accepting yourself for your sexuality (in whatever way that is), or accepting your naked body is important. i’m also seeing that some of you might hide who you truly are or how you truly feel behind anger as a defender mechanism. you might always be ready for battle with other people when you feel tried and tested or triggered by something, but it’s time for healing and not war at this point of your life. you could be self-destructing through your anger and defensiveness - and while this is understandable, it’s not healthy for you to consistently be in this energy. there’s also something or someone that you need to clear out of your life. could be a parent or a guardian, but it’s time to clear someone or something out of your life that makes you feel criticised and ridiculed. this person puts a lot of pressure onto you and forces you to hide who you truly are for the sake of their acceptance. if this is about a parent or a family member, then understand that their love shouldn’t be conditional. that means that their love is self-serving. they’re not loving you because you’re their child or because you’re someone who deserves love (which you do). they’re loving you in exchange for what they can get to fulfil them and their ego. it’s self-serving “love” that’s expressed for the sake of themselves and not you. if this isn’t about necessarily clearing this person completely out of your life, then you need to clear their criticisms out. i’m hearing “speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil”. put up boundaries and conditions in the same way that they do to you. let them know that if they’re going to say certain things to you, then they’re not welcome in your space and nor are they welcome to speak to you (and neither is anyone who’s willing to listen to and relay back to you their bs). also, maintain spiritual protection. burn incenses, white candles or tea lights, do protection spells. i feel like there are people sending you evil-eye and talking shit behind your back, even if you don’t actually see or hear this. but this could be affecting you negatively energetically. do some sort of spiritual protection or return-to-sender and leave them to stew in their criticisms of you that are actually just criticisms of themselves that they’re projecting out onto you.

[purrincess-chat]

I’m quite out of the loop and haven’t seen the special yet but… why are some Ladynoir stans saying again that they’d like to see Marinette and Adrien cheating? Is there still a lot of people in the fandom seeing the sides as separate ships? Like, do they not realize that no side of the square really died since they’re the same two people in all sides? Adrinette dating means that Ladynoir are also dating even if they don’t know? What good would cheating even bring for their relationship…

I'm uncertain if the amount of people saying this has reduced after s5 or if I've just blocked everyone saying it bc my experiences lately have been rather quiet actually 😅 Gonna go with the latter in this case.

But here's the thing because you're absolutely right, and I think a lot of people need to realize that the love square as we knew it has changed. All of the dynamics have been flipped on their head and even then, they aren't the same as before.

We now have:

Mutual friendship LadyNoir

One-sided/secretly reciprocated MariChat and Ladrien (in that the heroes love the civilians but the civilians don't know that the hero is their bf/gf)

Openly dating Adrinette

None of those dynamics were present before in the love square. Or at least not present in the way they are now. LadyNoir have both moved on from each other (and the biggest and whole entire joke/point of the show is they moved on from each other WITH EACH OTHER). The entire crux of the love square is the fact that they are the same two people, but they don't know it. The dynamics just offer different perspectives and wacky scenarios for us as the audience to see them in. They help to characterize them at a deeper level to provide a more complete picture of not only their relationship but who Adrien and Marinette are as characters.

And ya know what? After 5 seasons, things are finally evolving. S6 is going to look and feel different than anything we've seen so far and not just because of the new animation. The characters are growing up and maturing. We can't expect them to stay the same forever, and when the characters evolve so too do their relationships. There is absolutely nothing wrong with platonic LadyNoir. Adrinette dating, yes, even with the secrets, is not toxic or wrong or bad or in need of fixing. And cheating, even if they are at a technical level, still romancing each other, is a really weird and high key gross thing to want. Because we know they're the same people but they don't. Because they don't exist in a vacuum, and especially after the events of the special/s5 why the absolute hell would they cheat?

SPOILERS FOR THE LONDON SPECIAL

Adrien lost his dad and is grappling with the fact that he wasn't there to stop it. He's going to cling to everyone he has left in his life, and that includes especially his girlfriend who he literally sprinted to see. Adrien, who stepped off the train with red, puffy eyes into the arms of someone he sees as a mother figure and still teared up because of how heartbroken he was but who immediately smiled and lit up the moment he saw his girlfriend, is really gonna cheat with the girl who rejected him for literal months? While he still actively blames himself for not being there to help her in the final battle? Nothing gets the party going like immense trauma, I guess???? Definitely puts me in the mood 🙄

If this special proved anything to me, it's that Adrinette isn't going anywhere any time soon. Marinette was literally planning to sacrifice herself if she had to so he could be happy. From her pov, she is protecting him by keeping the truth from him, and regardless of how you personally feel about that choice, she is doing it because she loves him and doesn't want him to have to digest the fact that his father was a literal terrorist while at the same time digesting the fact that he's an orphan. And in more ways than one, it's because of his existence that both of his parents are dead now, even if it was their choice and Adrien himself didn't do anything directly.

Marinette is willing to sacrifice anything and everything for him to keep him safe and happy. Yes, the secret is going to be a plot point for the love square, but I feel like it's going to have the opposite effect than most people expect in the long run. Marinette herself said the secret lives with Ladybug, which tells me she's going to carry on as Marinette with him as if everything Ladybug said is true. She may question her decision the entire time, but she at her core, doesn't want to hurt him. And I think that intent is and is going to be very important moving forward through this plot.

And I think the fandom as a collective, but especially people who just really don't get it, need to accept that things have changed and the show, characters, and dynamics we have come to know and love are different now. And that's okay. Just because Adrinette is together and the dynamics are different now does not mean we can't still enjoy the other sides. It doesn't automatically make things boring or perfect or without conflict. And it's possible to have conflict in two characters who are romantically involved without having either of them cheat or having them break up. They can weather conflicts together and strengthen their relationship, and to me, that is more satisfying than 5 more seasons of will-they-wont-they. They did. And we need to accept it.

[magicaii]

Need a spinneraki non-villain au where both of them are shut in losers. Like, shuichi is a college drop out who’s been a NEET for the past two years and has convinced himself that he will never fit into society so why even bothering trying and doesn’t even care enough to outside anymore and tomura never made it to college at all and just lives off of his rich dad’s (afo) income as he does nothing but stay home to game and browse the internet all day cause he’s addicted to league of legends and he’s a closet scaly.

so imagine tomura and shuichi meeting cause they ended up in the same game because tenko misclicked and chose the wrong tier, and because he’s a bit of a toxic gamer, when he notices shuichi’s character choice he turns on vc just to say, “seriously? fucking zilean in the jungle? you’re never gonna make it out of iron asshole” and he only said it be to be dick and ruin some guy’s day, but he actually ends up advising the guy to choose a better character because he’s weirdly innocent and clueless for a league of legends player and it completely takes tomura aback. he finds out the guy is a complete newbie, which kinda explains it.

and during the game, spinner (his online name) keeps asking him questions since he’s apparently just decided that tomura has signed up to be his guide. and tomura kinda just goes along with it, and they’re the only two talking in vc anyway, although he’s far from nice about it. (think: what the fuck? USE YOUR SKILL or SUPPORT ME IN TOP LANE IDIOT)

so after the game tomura is about to move on with his day but then spinner sends him a friend request and he’s like ??? why does this weirdo think I’d wanna be his friend. but the request comes with a message and it says “haha thx for the help today? I’m kinda new at this… wld appreciate some more guidance n stuff… hope I can be as good as u someday lolz” and now tomura is half convinced this guy is just a fucking troll or something, cause there’s just no way. but what the fuck else is he doing anyway? so they exchange discords to chat.

spinner is strange. sometimes spinner will say things like “why is everyone so nasty in this game :((” and tomura will be genuinely confused because?? everyone knows league of legends is a toxic cesspool?? one day he finally asks what spinner’s deal is and why he started playing, and spinner goes “well tbh I was looking for friends”. tomura just deadpans that he’s definitely looking for them in the wrong place. spinners like, “I thought it would be easy to talk to people since there’s a voice chat but turns out people just use it to yell at each other and get into arguments. why would anyone do that lol, crazy” tomura just pauses cause he doesn’t really know, either. he’s been getting into arguments with random people in voice chat for years, it’s practically become a routine at this point, but he never stopped to think about it much. it’s pretty much become his only source of social interaction apart from his dad. with a pit in his stomach, he just replies “maybe they’re lonely.”

sometimes weird background sounds will come out of tomura’s mic, and spinner, after a while, finally asks, “so I’ve been wondering for a while. sometimes it sounds like someone is being murdered in your basement, what is that” and tomura’s like “oh don’t mind that lmao, it’s just my dad. he’s an investment banker or some shit and he gets fucking tilted at the stock market. idk I mostly tune it out now” and spinner just goes really quiet and says “umm. ok!”