#why? because the world is ending that's why so let's have what little joys we can still find

[10thmusemoon]

Title for the ask game!

"Good Graces"

lmao prim why does this feel like I'm seeing beyonce at the grocery store??? i love your fics!

okay hm content warning for angst, major character death, bad end

Shenbros that grow up alongside YQY and that somehow makes everything worse.

YQY still makes the unforgivable mistake of saving Shi Wu, Shen Jiu still steps in, but now he has Shen Yuan attached to him too. The two get taken into the Qiu household, QJL still develops an obsession with torturing Shen Jiu but now uses Shen Yuan as collateral.. If he doesn't behave, if he isn't perfect, well then, QJL will just see how his little brother does instead. Throughout this all, the two grow even closer, SJ doesn't let the resentment fester because SY is the only thing he still has, the only thing that keeps his sane. SY bandages his wounds in the night, holds him close, brings him into QHT's circle of safety with clever words whenever possible. He is the only good thing in the world now that Qi-ge is gone. They just need to wait for him to come back, and things will be fine.

And surprisingly, he does! This universe smiles down on SJ for once and shows him mercy. YQY looks like a prince standing behind his shizun, regal in his fine robes, and handsome in the way that well fed nobles can be. SJ tries to focus on the negotiations, but his eyes keep drawing back him yqy's face, awe and hunger at war. It's because of this that he misses the way SY goes stiff, head swiveling between the cultivators in silently growing horror.

The negotiations are easier than SJ ever thought they would be, his and SY's lives are traded from one hand to another like any dirty coin. The only difference being now they are indentured servants, their contracts having an actual time limit, the conditions of which only require them to be CQMS disciples until YQY becomes the new peak lord.

Which is...fine. More than fine, even! SJ is convinced that if he really wanted to, he could convince YQY to runaway with them afterwards. When he tells this to SY he's shocked by his insistent refusal.

"No, we have to stay at CQMS. No matter what."

Whatever.

For 15 solid years, SJ's life is good. He stakes his claim on YQY as soon as he realizes there are people interested in him, shamelessly making himself at home by his side. SJ excels at QJP, determined to be the one YQY can rely on. If SY insists on staying at CQMS, then SY will just have to make it theirs.

(years down the line is experiences gleeful joy at seeing people's face twist when it's revealed he's yqy's spouse.)

SY in all of this, is living in crisis mode! His brother is the scum villain and is going to get qi-ge killed! Why the FUCK did Airplane never mention any of this!!??? No matter how badly he wants to fuck off to the beast peak, he doesn't! He stays firmly on QJP, taking on all the duties that deal with the new disciples to keep them as far as fuck as he can from Shen Jiu's clutches!! When YQY and SJ finally ascend as peak lords, naturally he continues handling any responsibilities of SJ's that deal with one-on-one contact with kids. And honestly? That's the ideal! SY's cultivation has never been as strong as SJ's, he's not the one meant to be the protagonists' narrative foil after all! He can coast by on teaching the fundamentals!

In SJ's eyes, SY continues to be his filial younger brother, taking on the burden of the tasks SJ hates. He spoils him, when possible, in the way only SY and YQY ever seem to understand. They are the only two good things that have been and always will be his. He doesn't need anyone else.

And then NYY arrives, and no one is more surprised than he is that he looks forward to teaching her the guqin, delights in how quickly she picks up the erhu. He doesn't understand why SY looms nervously whenever she's near, is irritated when he starts to suspect why. It's their first huge blow up.

And then the boy arrives.

He can't explain why this particular disciple is so repulsive. Why the dirt seems to stick to him, no matter how clean he is. Filthy fingerprints on grasping hands. Wretched thing has a certain look in his eye, a hunger SJ knows will be ruinous, insatiable. Just the way he trails after SY is enough to make him spit! And SY has always been a soft-hearted idiot, falling for the urchin's sob story! Just as obsessed! If they don't nip it in the bud now, they'll be rumors about them. The kind of things that pull righteous cultivators down from the heavens!

YQY listens to all of this indulgently, combing oil through SJ's hair and kissing his temple. As always, no matter how hard SJ tries to hold on, yqy always manages to pull him from his mood.

"What's wrong with having a favorite?" "It's not the same and you know it!" "He's just a child, if you let Liu-shidi back on QJP, it won't even be an issue."

Lots of grumbling about toads wanting swan's flesh. They both know the root of the issue is just that SJ can't let anything that's his slip out of his grasps. His love is all consuming, kept close to his chest in the fear that it will be stolen away.

LQG is not allowed on QJP, instead, SJ starts to teach more. Tries to test LBH relentlessly, waiting for him to fail so he can prove a point. This makes things worse between the brothers, more and more arguments come up until they resort to childhood tactics of wrestling across the floor of the Bamboo house and ripping out hair. SY breaks a hair pin he knows YQY gave him, SJ tears one of SY's manuscripts on abyssal fauna in half. The fallout is ugly enough that Binghe and NYY run all the way to QDP, breaking past the sect leader's chief of staff about the impending death of YQY's husband and/or brother in law.

Kneeling in front of an amused yqy, bruised and with bald spots, both brothers Shen explain their case, each threatening YQY not to show favoritism to the other. The proposed solution is to have LBH spend some time on Qiong Ding Peak, at least until he's qualified to go on night hunts on his own. SJ is fully convinced he's won, is ready to smugly denounce any comments about Qi-ge's blatant favoritism.

Neither expect SY's eyes go wide, for him to lean forward until he's crawling to yqy's side in excitement. Luo Binghe's praises fall from his mouth like honey. SY's running to his room for a brush and paper, outlining lesson plans and tasks LBH can take on to learn about all the good CQMS does for the realm. To SJ's revulsion, SY badgers YQY until he promises to include one on one lessons. QDP already has a head disciple, there's no harm in it, right?

In Shen Yuan's eyes, a light from the heaven's has shined down on him. Invisible to all, the system flashes an exclamation point above yqy's head, offering an alternative option to saving the sect.

[MISSION OBJECTIVE: SHIBOS GOOD GRACES]

[DO YOU WISH TO ACCEPT? Y/N ?]

It's perfect! No matter how much SQQ hates LBH, the combined forces of SY and YQY will stand united against him! The sect will be saved and SY will never see his white lotus darken! Maybe, and he's nearly salivating at this point, LBH might even consider staying at the sect and becoming the next QJP lord! It will take, of course, years to soften up SJ to that point. But really, when has he ever said no to SY when it truly mattered? He just needs to suck up and live in Shen Jiu's pocket for a little, it's fine! This will be easier than the time he accidentaly came back with several short haired monsters after a mission with LQG and needed a place to keep them! And now they farm them for brushes!

SY sleeps soundly for the first night in years, comforted in the knowledge that LBH's work ethic and stubborn tendencies will surely endear himself to YQY eventually. And then, one day, he knows with certainty, that if he's not there to protect LBH, YQY surely will.

The Immortal Alliance Conference is as disastrous as it was always going to be. There is a countdown floating ahead of Shen Yuan that only he can see. Sweat is pouring down his face as he fights his way after demons he once dreamed about. SY lost track of his brother ages ago, the two separating to different crisis points to save as many disciples as possible. At the three minute mark, bright blue laughing kaomoji offer their congratulations, informing him that the inmun requirements for SHIBOS GOOD GRACES have been met.

SY nearly collapses with relief, his steps slowing down a fraction, just enough to catch his breath. Fuck teaching the fundamentals to scholars nerds did not help him retain cardio! The times is in it's final seconds when he makes it into a clearing, eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief when he passes Xiu Ya embedded into the forehead of a Black Moon Rhinoceros Python's skull. Then, just further ahead, Shen Yuan's heart falls nearly out of his chest.

There are tears streaming down Luo Binghe's face as he tips backward off the cliff. The huadian beneath his messy hair shines a bright red, the soft glow reflecting off Yue Qingyuan's black pauldron. The sect leader, his da-ge, is slumped against Luo Binghe, arms in a tight embrace, an unfamiliar sword piercing him in the back as the two tumble towards an abyssal rift.

The wail of a dying beast pierces through SY's stupor, SJ stands with a blackened hand outstretched, only steps away from following the only man he's ever loved. Shen Yuan moves faster than he ever has before, half blinded by notifications he's never seen before. Something about heartbreak points, swords, and narrative foils. He doesn't care! He doesn't care! SJ is writhing in his hold screaming like a madman, over his shoulder Luo Binghe is getting smaller and smaller, Yue Qingyuan's robes fluttering around them like broken wings. Screams echo through the clearing long after the rifts have closed.

"I'M SORRY I'M SO--"

"QI-GE YOU BASTARD! YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T LEAV-"

-

Five years later, Luo Binghe returns to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, notably missing the great Xin Mo sword. The protagonist kowtows in the bamboo house, forehead touching the floor and arms extended out to present a mahogany box of bones and a long sword with a plain scabbard before an alter. Shen Yuan kneels next to him, chest shaking with labored breaths, he follows suit with is forehead pressed to the floor. From his peripheral, he can see the way Binghe's shoulders have started to shake, a puddle of tears collecting just beneath his face. A tally of points starts to flash above the boy, Shen Yuan closes his eyes, another useless apology passes through his mind.

"Gege was right, Qi-ge came home."

[sanders1665]

Childhood memories.

It was such an ordinary and unremarkable life back then,

The kind you only truly appreciate once it’s gone.

"It's grim up north," they used to say on T.V.,

But I have cheerful memories of roast beef Sundays

And fish-and-chip Fridays wrapped in yesterday’s newsprint.

We lived in terraced houses with chimneys that coughed into the gray sky,

Where the toilet was in the back yard, beside the coal shed,

And the coalman’s boots left black trails once a week

As he filled our bins for the living room fire.

Milk bottles clinked on the doorstep each morning,

Their foil tops pecked open by sparrows,

And on Friday and Saturday nights, we stayed up late,

Gathered around the fire, watching our dad make toast

On a long fork, while Mum buttered each slice.

Old men roamed the streets with horse-drawn carts,

Shouting “Rag bone!” or “Any old iron!”

We played hopscotch on pavements cracked with time,

Skipping rope or kicking tin cans down cobbled streets,

The clatter echoing like a rhythm of childhood freedom.

Follow-the-leader was our favorite game,

Leaping fences, scaling walls,

And darting through alleys with wild abandon.

Wholesome mischief marked our days,

And we froze mid-step if an old codger bellowed,

"I’ll tell your parents!"

Summer meant chasing the chime of the ice cream van,

Begging Mum for pennies to buy a swirl of joy.

Grandma stayed every other month,

Her visits punctuated by whispered talk of rows with Grandad.

Sometimes, I stayed with them in their little house down the street,

Where Grandma let me brush her hair

And Grandpa taught me cursive,

Patiently guiding my hand as he unraveled the mystery of time.

I only later realized why we often stopped at the cemetery—

To visit their parents and theirs before them.

I thought we were just walking; I never knew we were remembering.

When the streetlights flickered on, it was time to go home.

I can still hear my father’s voice booming through the alleys,

Calling my name into the evening echo.

Brass bands marched on Sundays,

Their music halting our play as we watched in awe.

I was ten when I had my first kiss,

On a beach in Hastings,

Where Harold fell to William long before I was born.

There were pigeons everywhere back then,

Starlings and sparrows too,

And the world seemed coated in feathers and bird shit.

It rained so often, I almost thought the gray sky permanent,

And we bundled up in layers, jackets over jumpers over t-shirts,

Our breath misting in the cold air.

Fights with other boys were inevitable,

Knuckles bloodied, eyes blackened,

But always ending in a tearful retreat

To Mum’s shoulder,

Where she comforted and scolded in equal measure.

Dad came home from work with treats in hand,

Toffees jumbled in a paper bag,

Or fresh pastries from the Crusty Cob.

Mum’s slippers, always ready,

Were not just for warmth but for discipline,

Her aim as sharp as her tongue.

Most of our clothes came secondhand or from empty houses,

Treasures scavenged by Dad in his wanderings.

Our town had a zoo where I saw lions and elephants,

And a speedway where engines roared alongside banger racers.

School was ancient and creaked with the weight of history,

Its gothic halls echoing with nuns’ stern voices.

One dared smack my knuckles for asking too many questions,

But the spark of curiosity could not be silenced.

On a school trip to Lytham St. Anne’s,

I broke my collarbone sliding down a wet hill,

And fell for the Irish teacher who nursed my wounds.

Bath nights meant tin tubs by the fire,

The water warmed on the gas stove,

And steam mingling with the scent of coal smoke.

Fifty years have passed,

But these memories remain bright,

Glimpses of a life both simple and profound.

We had little,

But it was enough—always enough.

We didn’t know we were poor,

Because everyone lived the same.

Looking back now, I realize:

Happiness is not in what we lack,

But in what we treasure.

[monstersflashlight]

Hi :) Uhmm ... I like how you write, these past few days it become my obsession and joy. ( I am so sorry, I am so bad at giving compliments!)

Uhmmm .... If I may be so bold I would like to share an idea? I just thought about absolutely cocky and arogant male, womanizer Cerberos. The reader has love/hate relationship towards him. Well and after one wild party, he would corner reader and showed them his true form. And holding onto his word to rock reader´s world (quite literally)

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoy my content, it means the world. Sorry for the long wait, adult life sucks so bad. Also, I added the anon question, hope you don’t mind. The idea that Cerberus is the one you hit on when tipsy sounds so cute to let it pass. I took the liberty to make cerberus a type of monster, so they’re just one of them and not THE cerberus, you know. I imagine they’re like a werewolf but with three heads, and like not human form, just a wolfy-guy with three heads. Each head talks separately, but in this there’s no difference between them to not make it hard to follow, but I think it’s quite good. Hope you enjoy! <3

Three heads are better than one

Cerberus (they/them) x fem!reader || fingering, public sex, dirty talk

When a cerberus started to work on your law firm, you two hit it the wrong way from the start. You were a top tier lawyer and they couldn’t understand that a human could be better than them. Three heads think better than one, how could a puny human like you be better than them? But you were, and it infuriated them. But it also fueled your banter with so much sexual tension you could taste it. But you didn’t do anything about it because everyone at the office knew they were a womanizer, they had a new girl every few days and never dated anyone. They were just there for the sex. Or that’s what everyone at the office said. But dang you wanted to hit it off with them so bad, you needed to know what their three mouths tasted like, how would it be to have three brains focused on your pleasure… That sounded delicious in the best possible way.

So when you catch them and their friends in a bar, after a few drinks, you think it’s time. You approach them and their friends at the end of the bar, ready to do something about your pent up sexual tension. You two have been dancing around each other for what feels like ages, and your tipsy brain thinks the best moment to do something about it is right now, right there. When you get closer, you can hear their friends making fun of them and elbowing them as they all giggle, pointing at you. You add a little bit of movement to your hips and hope it doesn’t look too ridiculous.

“Hi darling, how’s your night going?” You touch their pecs as all three of their heads focus on you. You blush, but keep caressing their torso over their shirt, you squeeze a bit and they slap your hand softly.

“Human, get lost.” You can’t understand how their voice can sound so harsh and so sexy at the same time, you can feel your panties melting. Maybe the alcohol has a part to blame, drinking always made you horny, and today is not different.

You pout, bating your lashes in your best puppy look. “Why are you always so mean?” Their three heads blink slowly at you, almost took out balance by your question.

“What? We’re not mean, you are just too soft,” they answer. You scoff, if they want to play that game you can give as better as receive. Uh, receiving… That’s exactly what you want. In a sexy way, against a wall if possible. They look like they can lift you up and fuck you.

“I’m not soft. I’m human. And you are mean.” You think you heard him say something about how they’re already aware that you are human, but you aren’t sure, the bar is really loud and the world is spinning around you.

“You need to go away before we do something all of us would regret.” Their central head is the one doing the talking, but the other two nod along.

“I don’t want to.” You know you sound bratty and entitled, but you are horny and everyone says they’re a womanizer, why are they not womanizing you? “You don’t like humans, is that it?”

“Trust me, they like humans. They like them reeeeeal good.” One of their friends says behind them. All of them laugh, but your coworkers are looking at you like they are going to dig a hole through your body just with their eyes.

“Come with me.” They sound fed up, like they are going to scold you and it’s going to feel awful. But your tipsy brain doesn’t process it fully, so you follow them without questioning. They lead you to the back of the bar, the hallway that leads to the bathroom. The music is softer there, you can listen to your own brain better.

They push you against the wall, they body pressing against your front. You shiver, anticipation filling your guts and their low growl making you whimper. “We can smell how wet you are, we can almost taste your desire. You are too tempting for your own good, honey.” You think the pet name was condescending every time they used it before, but at that moment, it sounds like a caress.

Their hands found the edge of your skirt as they grab your leg and position it against their hip. You are open and exposed, your skirt riding up and your soaked panties in the open. You whine again. You never felt as dirty and naughty as you do now, it’s maddening. They cress the outside of your thigh as they rock their hips against you, letting you feel their cock through your panties. You moan loudly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” You know you’d be embarrassed beyond belief about it the next morning, but right now you don’t care. You can only think about how good their finger feels inside of you, and how much you wish that was their cock. When they move your panties to the side and push one finger inside your needy pussy, you cry out.

“Not here, little human.” They press against your G-spot, making your knees buckle under you. They grab your waist and holds you pressed against the wall as you pant. “If tomorrow you feel like this again, then we can talk.” They said, their fingers slowly thrusting into you.

“What?” You ask, trying to focus on their words and not the wonders they’re doing on your pussy. Their thumb rolls over your clit and you have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. It feels so good. You start to move your hips at the rhythm of their thrusts.

“We’ve been waiting forever to get your attention, We’re not wasting it on a quick fuck on a bar.” Their voice sounds serious and you feel confused as fuck. What are they talking about? They hate you, they always pick stupid fights with you over the silliest things.

“What?” You ask, trying to grab their hand but holding onto their shoulders, moving your hips faster. The rational part of you is not present, only your whore-ish part.

“We’ve been waiting to ask you out but we thought you wouldn’t want us.” They mutter that under their breath, you barely catch it.

“What?” You ask, once more. Are they saying they like you? They wanted to ask you out? But… But the gossip. They said they didn’t date, you never saw them with anybody, just random hookups. “What?” You ask again.

“You… We… We have a bit of a human kink with you, okay? You are so soft and so pretty. We can’t stop thinking about you. And then you get up in front of the judge and good lord do you look good. You look magnificent.” Their voice sounds amazed, like they are telling the truth and they truly like you. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your question is lost when their thumb starts rubbing against your clit. You think they answer something, but your brain is fuzzy with pleasure. “Stop touching my clit I can’t focus.” You whisper, trying to look at them and see if they aren’t lying. There’s no way they want you, is it?

“What if we don’t want you to focus? What if we want you coming around our fingers until you are crying out how much you love it? How much you like being stretched in public by us?” You moan so loud they have to cover your mouth with their unoccupied hand. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” Your pussy involuntarily clenches around their fingers. “Oh, naughty girl, you do want to get caught. Does that excite you? Do you want everyone to see how improper you really are? You are such a good lawyer but then you part your legs for us in the back of the bar… Such a dirty, dirty woman.” You shiver, your juices flowing around their fingers. You’ve never been as turned on as you are right there, their fingers feel divine and you are so fucking close.

“Please…” Your plea sounds pathetic and you blush, but they just smirk at you, two of their heads attacking your neck at the same time. Feeling the two sets of mouths against your neck combined with the feel of their fingers moving inside of you is getting you so wet their hand is making filthy sounds.

“You are so wet for us, so soft. I bet you taste amazing. We are going to spend so much time licking you. Do you know what they say about cerberus?” You shake your head. “We give the best head because we have three of them. Do you want to feel three tongues against your pussy, honey? Do you want to be worshiped by three heads?” The image they are painting in your head is so good you want to open your legs and ask them to do it right there. But you are so close already, their fingers feel so fantastic inside of you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rolling your hips. They accompany your movement, getting you almost to the edge.

“Are you going to come for us? Are you going to be a good woman and come around our fingers? We can’t wait to feel you around our dicks, bet you are going to feel better than any pussy we ever had. Our first human. Our only human. What are you gonna do, honey? Do you want to suck us off?” You nod eagerly, so close. “Of course you want to, you want to be a good little human for us.” You get the feeling them calling you human is doing more for them than for you. Their human kink is playing in your favor. “Come for us, human.” They whisper against your ear as the other two heads suck on your neck.

The combination of fingers and mouths makes your body shake uncontrollably against theirs, your orgasm so good you almost fall down. You can feel your juices dripping down and soaking your panties and their fingers. They take their fingers away and you watch in amazement as they raise their hand to lick it, all three of their heads getting some. You moan as aftershocks rock your body.

They put your panties back in place and slowly lower your leg. Your legs are shaky and you grab onto their arm. Three heads smile down at you, one of them looking specially smug. They pass an arm over your shoulders and help you walk out of the hallway. “Let us take you home.” They whisper, their hold on you so hard it feels wonderful. It feels so good you could fall asleep right there. They gave you the orgasm of your life and on top of it, they are sweet about it. You judged them so bad you feel like shit. You can always make it up to them at some point. You add it to your mental list of things to do in the morning, even though you know you won’t remember.

“There’s no need.” You try to argue, without any force behind your words. You really want to spend more time with them.

“We want to.” Their voice is final, you know that tone. That’s the tone they use in court, and you know you can’t win against it.

They drive you home as you fidget with your rings, nervous after what happened, after what they said. You want to run, to break the silence, but you are speechless. You don’t know what to say and the alcohol you had is kicking you really hard. You feel sleepy and tired, more than ready to go to bed.

They follow you to your house, opening your door and leading you to your bedroom where they help you get undressed. You think they are going to do something more, but they barely touch your naked body as they cover you with a blanket.

You feel three soft forehead kisses before they say: “We aren’t playing games with you, honey. We want to play with your pussy, yes, but not with your heart. We hope you give us a chance.” You nod, and try to answer, but your eyes are so heavy that you can’t keep them open, your brain shutting down.

When you wake up the next morning with a text saying: “We can’t wait to have you sucking our cock. And then we can go to dinner, we booked the fancy restaurant you like.” You giggle on your pillow and kick your legs. Yeah… That sounds like the start of a very fun game.

[justasecretflower]

Babysitting Ft. The homicipher men

Synopsis- you were tasked with babysitting a baby around 5 months old. How do the homicipher men act around human babies?.. / all set in the real world / happy love ending

incl- Mr. Crawling, Mr. Scarletta, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Silver, Mr. Hood.

Cw/ baby fever,

Mr. Crawling

🖤your sibling just dropped off your niece, a slobbery, chunky, baby 2 minutes ago with a bag of necessities in tow, now, you’re watching Bluey with her on the couch..and so is mr. Crawling

🖤your niece was a little intimidated by Mr. Crawling at first, you picked her up from your sibling, shut the door and as soon as your nice and Mr. Crawling made eye contact, the baby was wailing and Mr. Crawling was stressing

🖤soon, though, you three rested on the couch. Well, you and your niece and mr. Crawling awkwardly sitting on the floor in front of you

🖤he felt a small tug, only to turn his head to see chubby little fingers pulling on his hair. The small creature babbled and cooed, the fingers grabbing and twirling at his hair.

🖤he smiled and giggled, seeing the adorable tiny thing enjoy his hair.

🖤he figured out how to play with the tiny thing. Poke her belly, peak a boo, tickle her a little and throw her then catch her. He loved his little buddy!!

🖤while the baby was asleep, all sprawled out he looked over at you, a happy smile on his face “how” “make?”

🖤”how make..a baby?” You pointed at your nice confusingly he nodded eagerly. You paused and simplified ‘how to make’

🖤he only smiled, looking at the baby, then you again “we make?”

Mr. Scarletta

❤️when the baby gets dropped off he kinda just stays.. away. He's not used to small humans being around.

❤️you encourage him to at least come and hangout. To which he complies, obviously, since he's at your service.

❤️he stands next to you while you spoon feed the baby, and pass over the spoon when your phone rings. At first, he didn't know what to do, he just awkwardly stood by with the baby spoon till he mimics the airplane thing that you did and feeds the baby.

❤️he finds a strange joy when the baby starts babbling, clapping her hands and giggling, as if it made him happy that she was happy.

❤️he has found a new friend! after feeding her he let's you clean her up because he doesn't know how but then afterwards grabs the little thing right out of your hands to go hold her and play with her on the couch

❤️he found it so cute that humans are sometimes this small and weak. He likes it when she wraps her fingers around his finger. He finds it so cute.

❤️cradles the baby, watches tv with her, just gently swaying with the baby, he loves it! sign him up. I know some people will probably think he doesn't like babies, but he does! he likes how small and weak they are. Just little lumps of slobbery chunk that babbles. So cute.

Mr. Silver

🩶fascination. Naturally. What is this small human?

🩶he kinda just..observes. Watches how to take care of such an incapable, small little lump.

🩶he finds them cute though. Likes to see what makes them happy, stresses out when he accidentally makes them cry.

🩶he watches the kids shows and tries to decipher a meaning and see the affect the colors and sounds have on the baby and what it benefits to them.

🩶tries to teach the baby monster language, but is only met with a small, confused head tilt. Gives up on it after you tell him the baby only knows some words in human language. It was hard teaching you monster language, a fully capable adult, it'd be nearly impossible teaching a little, babbling creature.

🩶watches out for dangers while she sleeps, stands over her and watches for any possible threat. Once a fly flew in her general direction. and it immediately got a scalpel thrown directly at it, pinning it to the wall.

🩶definitely protective over her.

Mr. Chopped

🧡not a fan

🧡why do humans have these attention sucking things?!

🧡gets mad at the baby stealing away your attention and especially hates it when you choose to pickup and sway the baby instead of him

🧡No! Not baby! pick up me! carry!

🧡the baby would be interested in him, grabbing at his face and hair, yes, he bit the child, no, he didn't apologize.

🧡just sulks until the baby leaves. You won't get him to watch the baby, try to make funny faces at the baby to play, you will get nothing out of him.

🧡I saw a video with a dude saying he had abortion fever, that's literally mr. chopped. He hates it when it cries, grabs at his face, he all around does not like the baby.

🧡do NOT babysit with him.

Mr. Hood

🤎He get's so soft when he first sees the baby, how cute, how delicate.

🤎he wants to help the baby, get out of his way. Teach him how to do it once and he's on a roll, sit back, don't do anything he's got this.

🤎is it because he wants you to relax? partially, more so because he wanted to hangout with the strange, small little human. He adores the baby sooo much.

🤎he hates it when the baby cries, but is very, very patient and handles the baby extremely well.

🤎probably the most patient, nurturing, and caring of all of the homicipher men, Mr. Scarletta knows how to take care of a baby, just doesn't like to, he just likes playing with them, Mr. Silver kind of sees the baby as a learning experience, Mr. Crawling leaves as soon as the baby cries, and Mr. Chopped is well.. Mr. Chopped.

🤎is like Mr. Crawling, now he wants one. But gets weary when he learns about birth and pregnancy, it seems like a lot on you.

🤎could you two just like...steal one?

tags

[mcflymemes]

THE MUMMY (1999) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!

by the way... why did you kiss me?

it seemed like a good idea at the time.

that's called stealing, you know.

is it dangerous?

stop it! you'll kill them!

get me a glass of bourbon.

this just keeps getting better and better.

this door doesn't open.

who opened that chest?

i only want four!

the map! i forgot the map!

i think he's filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. i don't like him one bit.

i guess we go home empty-handed... again.

look what i got.

i think you found something.

what exactly is this man in prison for?

you just got promoted.

you're with me on this one, right?

keep him busy.

we are in serious trouble.

this creature is the bringer of death.

you must not read from the book!

where are they taking him?

there's only one person i know that can possibly give us any answers.

can you look me in the eye and guarantee me that this isn't all some kind of flimflam?

i'm a very lonely man.

look at my library!

you're gonna get yours, [name]!

never did like camels.

what do you suppose killed him?

time to go.

take my hand, and i will spare your friends.

will you look at that?

do they know something we don't?

i need a new job.

have you no respect for the dead?

i've dreamt about this since i was a little girl.

you dream about dead guys?

patience is a virtue.

any last requests?

loosen the knot and let me go.

i don't think we need to know this.

ooh... that's gotta hurt.

you... i just don't get.

you probably won't live through it.

everybody else we've bumped into has died. why not you?

you're wondering... what is a place like me doing in a girl like this?

yeah, i was there.

can you swim?

of course we don't let him go!

you'll be dead when they do this.

i think i'll kill you.

think of my children.

i only gamble with my life, never my money.

i may not be an explorer or an adventurer, or a treasure-seeker or a gunfighter, but i am proud of what i am.

give me frogs! flies! locusts! anything but you!

compared to you, the other plagues were a joy.

i am so very sorry. it was an accident.

you are a catastrophe.

oh my god, i hate it when these things do that.

is he supposed to look like that?

of course i can swim, if the occasion calls for it.

now, because of you, we have failed.

you think this justifies the killing of innocent people?

what did you say?

i don't want to tell you.

let me get this straight.

you don't have any children.

you lied to me.

i lie to everybody.

what makes you so special?

sorry. didn't mean to scare you.

the only thing that scares me are your manners.

have you got any bright ideas?

i'm thinking. i'm thinking!

you'd better think of something fast.

what are we going to do?

wait here! i'll go get help!

i thought you said you didn't believe in all this fairy tales and hokum stuff.

forget it! we're out the door, we're down the hall, and we're gone!

i told you not to play around with that thing.

you heard the man. no mortal weeapons can kill this guy.

listen! we've got to do something!

is that my problem?

i appreciate you saving my life and all, but when i signed on, i agreed to take you out there and bring you back. end of job, end of story, contract terminated.

that's all i am to you? a contract?

you can either tag along with me or stay here and try to save the world.

do something!

you know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.

what's the challenge then?

rescue the damsel in distress, kill the bad guy, and save the world.

death is only the beginning.

why are you going back?

i'm going downstairs to get me a drink. you want something?

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ short bucktommy angst/whump with a happy ending, coz i love torturing my boys. 8x07 spoilers and verrrrrry loosely insp by a still from 8x08

typing

Why would he type type type and not send anything?

The alarms blare and Buck throws his baking back in the oven and sprints downstairs, but his mind is elsewhere. This? This is all muscle memory at this point. His mind occupies itself with other things, wondering what exactly Tommy might have wanted to say.

Evan. No. Buck. God, he still hates it that he called him Buck.

Can we talk? Tommy always was a man of few words. Or maybe Buck is just a man of many. But what does 'can we talk' even mean? He'd be spiralling just as hard as with the silent disappearing bubble. It's better this way.

MARRIAGE, EVAN??

God, he's an idiot. A pathetic, clingy idiot. Even now he would kill for a second round, just to dig that knife in deeper. At least then maybe, he'd be able to pick up what he'd missed before; where exactly that big dimpled grin and soft eyes had turned to hard words and hidden pain. At least then, he'd be able to fix it.

Hen watches him with a knowing eye.

“Stay strong, Buck,” she reminds him as they pull up to the scene. “Head in the game.”

Buck nods. He drops his phone on the seat and packs it away to the back of his mind, as best he can. Maybe he'll get to whip out the jaws of life. They always make him feel better. Shake it off, Buckley, let's go.

He's the last one out of the engine, and he hits the ground already triaging the scene. His senses expand, cataloguing the vehicles, the passers-by, the direction and nature of the accident. Eddie and Bobby are getting a run-down from a uniformed police officer on scene and it happens a splt second before Buck's mind catches up.

“A silver-” he overhears - “oh-”

He can see it in his minds eye, almost feel it even as his own heart sinks; the way recognition sets into Eddie's face. And then horror. He looks further down the road, to a sight that's partially obstructed from Buck's view. Partially, but not so much that he doesn't start running toward it because he has a feeling he knows, he knows, he knows who it is.

Why would he type type type and not send anything?

“Buck-” Hen warns, reaching to grab him but she's already missed.

Buck knows he should be helping but his world is caving in. Bobby's barking commands but all he hears is a wordless echo. Ravi hustles the balloons and the jaws up to the worst hit of the vehicles and Chimney is already there; medkit tossed over the worst of the shattered glass as he kneels by the dangerously crushed window and tries to make contact with the person inside.

“Buck.” It's Eddie this time, blocking with his body as much as he can – and he can, even with the full force of Buck throwing himself forward - but even he can't stop the terrible, terrible knowing.

“TOMMY!”

The name rips out of his lungs, because it's the truck: it's Tommy's pride and joy. It's singing along in the passenger seat and Tommy's smiling – sometimes he joins in, even though he wouldn't otherwise care for Buck's taste. It's Tommy slinging a greasy towel over his shoulder and hitching himinto the truck bed and making out until they both can't breathe. It's spilling the salt from hot chips in there; it's shoulder to shoulder at the drive-ins; it's getting fucked into the seats; it's polishing and vacuuming just last week because he can't help with the engine for shit. He'd put a little thing of jellybeans in the cup holder after - like his old detailer used to do, just to be cute - and it hits him that that's what those little coloured smudges are, intermingled with the crushed glass littered across the road.

What if he's in trouble and he needs my help?

“Oh, God, Tommy.”

The howling turns to hopeless. Breathless. The fight evaporates right out of him and he collapses forward into Eddie's arms. Eddie's embrace is firm and steadying as he lowers them both as gently as he can manage to the curb. Buck closes his eyes, sapped of the strength to watch any more but cursed by the knowledge of what's still got to be happening. Hen and Chim will be extracting Tommy's bruised and broken body onto a backboard right about now, and then lifting him onto a gurney. They'll be doing CPR if he's lucky – and they are, he can hear it, so at least there's that.

Then it stops.

For a few, horrible seconds all he can hear is his own hammering heart. Eddie's ragged breathing. Footsteps. Bobby.

“Buck.”

It takes a second, for him to gather the courage to open his eyes and look up. Bobby's demeanour is solemn and serious, but there's a softness Buck recognises well. A lightness that promises things might just be okay, as he offers a hand to pull Buck up from the roadside.

“He's asking for you in the ambulance,” Bobby says, and there's just a flicker, just an iota of a smile as he urges - “Go.”

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

When Harrow is very obviously grieving, (and also when he wants to gaslight her) John tells her to make soup about it, to focus on the little things, to take it day by day. When asked to help with the lobotomy, Ianthe tells Harrow that the worst is over- she's a lyctor now, and she should try and move forward instead of sticking herself permanently in limbo. These are not terrible pieces of advice to give a grieving person; if actually practiced, they might even be helpful. Except for Harrow, they are the absolute worst things you could possibly say.

None of what happened to her should have happened, of course she doesn't want to accept it and progress further into lyctorhood. Everything is terrifying and new to her, of course she won't find peace in "the little things". John is actively trying to fucking KILL HER, of course SOUP isn't going to help! Like obviously the general grief advice isn't gonna work for Harrow because she's in a psychological horror book and is being haunted and is grieving jesus christ herself, but also, does it really work that well ever? Does being told to move on actually ever in any circumstance help the person move on? Or does it just make them feel more broken, more inadequate, more lonely?

Sure, focusing on little things that give you joy and trying not to ruminate on the past are on paper productive ways to cope, but its also the LAST thing a grieving person actually wants to do. Telling someone to simply forget about what they went through and who they lost, to just focus on the boring and isolating minutae of everyday life instead of the world-ending tragedy they've experienced feels impossible. To do it would be like betraying yourself, and the people you lost.

Most of the book is Harrow knowing that certain things would probably make her feel better if she would just try, being told constantly that if she would just do x y or z, things would fall into place and she would be less broken. She doesn't even remember WHY she feels like this, but she does, and it's all-consuming. Lyctorhood is the scale by which her "normality" is measured, and she is failing SPECTACULARLY. She refuses to set aside Gideon's humanity and significance in her life to use her as a battery, and that makes her weak and a failure in the eyes of the other saints.

But by failing to move on, she ends up actually preserving (??? who actually knows man) Gideon's life. For the classic grief advice to not only be unhelpful to her personally also ACTIVELY MALICIOUS/ HARMFUL PLOT WISE is such a great 180 to me. Instead of a "grieving character comes to terms with loved one's death for the Greater Good and moves on because its the Right Thing To Do" narrative, we get a kind of bereavement revenge fantasy. Harrow's complete refusal to move on stops Gideon from actually fully dying. And she does makes soup, not to cope with the constant terror she's living under, but to EXPLODE her tormentor from the inside out. These things probably aren't "good" for Harrow, or for anyone dealing with grief. They do not make life easier for her, and they do not make her a lyctor, but they are honest and they are SO satisfying. Having the power to bring back the person you lost, even at great personal detriment and to explode everyone who hurt you with your mind is i think the perfect power for someone in mourning and i love that htn let Harrow have it. There is no greater good to be served, no larger moral about loss to be told. The objective is not to see Harrow heal from loss, it's to see her by sheer determination and force of will, refuse to fucking lose.

[estrellayluna]

In another life

Nanami Kento

Synopsis : You promised yourself that you wouldn’t have the same unfortunate fate that your mother had gone through with love. Until your whole world comes crumbling down discovering your husband’s infidelity. Through tears and heartbreak you recall your mothers last words.

(We all know he would never!!) (please check out link once you see it for visuals!!!)

One text message from an unsaved number. One simple message was the reason your whole world came crumbling down in just seconds.

It was vile. The photo. It seemed as if whoever took the photo was in a rush to capture it. A little blurred in some spots but you could immediately make out what it depicted.

Your husband, Nanami having his arms wrapped around a waist of another woman just steps away from his desk. Whoever the woman was, her head was slightly tilted looking up at him with a smile on her face. Arms loosely wrapped around his shoulder blades.

At a loss for words and seemingly unaware the breaths you were holding in, the sudden ache you felt in your chest was growing deeper. Tears forming just before multiple escaping your eyes.

You didn’t want to believe it, but how could you not? The moment you felt the ache in your chest you knew.

-

4 months earlier

The sounds of monitors and footsteps were faint outside the door of your mothers hospital room. The room’s television on low volume as you peel a bright colored orange.

It has been a while coming but your mothers health has been declining since the last attempt of hope with needed surgery. But unfortunately to no avail.

And as much as you wished for your mother to keep fighting she finally made the decision to leave this world in peace. No more mustering up the little strength she had left to the annoyance of appointments or the continuous failed improvements.

So you devoted your time to spend as much time with your mother as you could.

“How is Nanami doing (Y/N),” your mother asks in a soft voice while looking over to you “he hasn’t come along with you for the past 3 weeks or so. Is everything alright?”

Finally finished with peeling the orange and setting it down you smiled at her, “he’s doing fine mom, just busy at work these days. He actually got promoted up at his office job a few days ago.” You tell her with a smile on your face.

Your mother slightly gasps with joy, clasping your hands with yours she beams.

“I’m so happy to hear that, I’m sure the both of you will continue to live a nice peaceful life together. He’s a good man darling, I’ll be able to leave this world in peace knowing you’ll be well taken care of.”

You smile at her words, a pang of joy and sadness.

Your mother was a single mother raising you all on her own. Your father was in the picture up until the age 11. From then on his visits were some and then eventually no more.

Though you didn’t hate him, you grew up more focused on the fact of trying your best to be a good daughter. Not causing too much stress to your mother.

Your father was your mothers first and only love. Only as time passed by, he became unfaithful. Your mother immediately took action into trying to become the best mother she can be with the so little she had. You grew up to promise yourself you refuse to let the same happen to you. To not let this curse that your father casted upon your mother trickle down to you.

“(Y/N), do you want to know why I always called you my little star,” you mother brings up. you can tell she was growing tired some.

8:30 pm

Visiting hours will end soon.

You hum in response, smoothing out the blanket that lays just between you two.

“Because moths always look for light in the darkness. You are my light and star (Y/N). I will forever be grateful to have had you as my daughter.”

Before visiting hours came to an end your head falls onto her lap, tears streaming down as her hands strokes your hair.

-

Moths look for the light in the darkness

Everything you had planned for, promised yourself and your mother was eradicated. You wanted to scream. To make a mess of everything in this home you two shared.

But you can only frown at the thought of your mother disapproving those actions.

You had no idea what to do.

More importantly, what to do with the hidden pregnancy test you tucked away inside your side of the dresser.

Wiping your tears away, headed towards your shared room you look for the test.

You tried to recall when it must have all changed. Was it when Nanami was promoted at work that he was moved to the upper level of the office building?

You recall the first couple of times you stopped by to deliver him lunch that he had forgotten.

The atmosphere was not as welcoming as his previous position. You had felt out of place when just simply asking for your husband at the front desk.

Rummaging through your belongings looking for the damn test you heard the front door open to your apartment.

8:45 pm

Though it was somewhat late, you hadn’t expect him to arrive just yet.

You froze, not sure of anything anymore.

A part of you wanted to confront him, and the other part of you just wanted to be comforted, to be told it was a fake. Absolutely anything else other than being told it was true.

Is this the end?

Finally spotting the pregnancy test you sat down in the corner of the king size bed. Holding the pregnancy test close to you, but hidden from anyone else’s view.

You hadn’t bothered to put all the clothing that fell from your frantic digging back inside.

So when Nanami walked in your shared bedroom, it was the first thing he saw.

“What the hell happened in here?” Nanami sighed placing his briefcase aside the room.

Nanami noticed your lack on response and the fact you weren’t facing him.

“I didn’t intend to have you find out like this (Y/N),” your eyes slightly widen in shock. Nanami brought his left hand to sooth the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know who must have sent that photo to you. And I don’t intend to let that person have the satisfaction of knowing it actually got to you. Though I do have a few people in mind.” Nanami headed towards the closet to find a more comfortable to change into.

If you didn’t think your heart was beating, his lack of empathy causes your heart to break into a million pieces.

How could he be so calm about this..

“Why Nanami,” your voice trembles, your heart beating faster than ever “what caused this to happen?”

Nanami now finally walked towards you, trying to clasp your hands into yours you refuse to budge. The test tightly protected in your hands unbeknownst to him.

Nanami sighs again with a tight stern look on his face. Knowing there’s no longer any chance you’ll be able to come back from it all.

“When your mother passed away you became a shell of yourself (Y/N). It was easy in the beginning to be there for you. But it eventually turned into mindless sex as an escape for you. I did not want to hurt your decisions into avoiding the reality of losing your mother. If you hadn’t ignored your grief,” Nanami continues while taking off his glasses and watch setting them aside, glancing at your reflection at the mirror in front of him. Your eyes finally met “perhaps I could have better helped you understand (Y/N).”

“Who is she? Is she a coworker of yours?” At Nanamis confession, you felt numb. All the anger and sadness you felt dissipated. You wanted nothing more now than to go to sleep and dream of your mom comforting you and feel her hand stroke your hair again even for a mere moment inside your unconscious mind.

“Her name is Kuina. She was employed just a month into when your mother passed,” Nanami turned around to face you, leaning against the drawer head turned slightly down, arms crossed “I didn’t think I would have ever been one to end up doing such a thing (Y/N). I’m sorry.”

‘I’m sorry’

Nanami walked out into the living room closing the door behind him.

-

6 years ago

“Mom are you alright?” Walking into your moms room seeing her working on paper work for your grandmother. Gathering information about her as needed for the funeral home to work on her death certificate.

Your mom looked frantic and tired. Noting the atmosphere felt different, “hey mom, where’s Karube?” Your mom looked up at you putting up a brave face.

“Karube and I are no longer together (Y/N). He and I just realized we weren’t a match really. No need to worry.”

-

Karube ended up cheating on my mother around the same time my grandmother passed away.

Not only did you fail in keeping that promise you made yourself all those years ago.

You failed your mom too.

Hearing the faint sounds of the television being turned on just outside the living room, you tried your best to muffle your cries as it all eventually settled inside of you.

‘You were my light in times of darkness’

Hugging yourself to sleep, it didn’t take long as your cries settled you down.

-

It’s been a week since everything was brought to light. And just 3 days ago you were met with a few documents settled on the main wooden table of the home.

Divorce papers

You sigh with stress laced within. You avoided even looking through everything until the night before your first appointment with your doctor.

Frantically filing everything down, deciding on stopping by Nanamis office before heading to your doctors to drop off the paperwork.

-

Your walk to Nanamis workplace wasn’t how it was before. Your gentle smiles while walking is now replaced by a neutral toned face. The warmth of the sun is no longer a lovely feeling but a sticky hot feeling all over your body.

You hated to be a burden at such a young age. That night, after Nanamis confession you held out on telling him.

Guilt swept over you as you realized how tragic it all is.

This baby wasn’t due to the love you both have for each other, at least not anymore. It’s due to your wanting to escape from your grief.

Oh how your mother would be saddened.

-

Walking up to Nanamis now private office, trying your best to keep your head held high. You noticed that some look over at you knowing the gossip that had gone around. And others who seem to not care at all. You were silently grateful for the few.

Reaching his office, you knocked twice. Looking over your shoulder to see few of his fellow colleagues quickly look away from you as if they weren’t popping their eyes at the front seat view they had.

You let yourself in once you heard an approval from the other side.

Whispers soon ensued as the door closed behind you.

Nanami was looking over paperwork at his desk, eyebrows furrowed in whatever god knows what he deals with nowadays.

“I came to drop off the divorce paper work Kento.” Stating as you walk up his desk, your soft footsteps and his quick writing with pen hitting his paper being the silence breaker between the two of you.

Nanami drops his pen on his desk and looks up at you.

The tall windows of his office gently illuminated your face, earrings softly shimmering and pieces of your hair fall front of your face framing a delicate balance to your face.

‘You became a shell of yourself’

You didn’t try to improve your appearance just for him. Matter of fact you did it for yourself. You refused to let his words eat your self conscious.

Plus, your mother always told you how important it is to be presentable to the public. Not for the approval of others but for your own self.

Handing him the folder, your hands softly brush against each others.

Keeping your calm composure, you stood straight ready to turn around and leave.

“(Y/N)-“ Nanami starts but you had cut him off.

“I plan to leave the apartment soon Kento. If approved in just days time, you need not worry about me being in that place anymore,” you ushered as to turn around once again “have a good day Kento.”

Pushing his office doors to open and leave this place once and for all, you open the doors to Kuina waiting just outside the doors.

You should have known his office colleagues were just as wanting to know what must have been discussed behind the closed doors.

As your eyes met Kuina’s, all you had left in you was a smile.

Just as the doors of his office completely closed, Nanami caught a glance at the exchange.

Deep down inside he knew he had caused enough pain when all you did was smile at her.

-

As the elevator descends to the lower floors of the building it stopped just below the floor that Nanami once was.

As people come in and go, a tall man with white hair and circular dark navy shades shuffled his way to your side as the elevator doors close descending back down once again.

Wood scents, with a note of eucalyptus

You’re familiar with this scent of the man standing next to you. It’s nothing new. Besides you’re fond of the scent. Nothing extreme from what you’ve come across before. Men and their obnoxious amount of sprays.

So you weren’t so sure as to why the man’s scent next to you caused you to almost gag out loud inside the cramp elevator.

Catching your action swiftly your hand goes up to cover your mouth, catching the attention of the tall white haired man.

Looking down at you he asks “you alright miss?”

The elevator finally opens to the first floor and you quickly nod as you try to quickly get out.

“Woah I’m sorry! Was it my doing? Do I smell bad today?” The man looks in disbelief and quite embarrassed.

“No no no,” you try to apologize for your actions “it was actually just me! Im sensitive to smells at the moment.” You tried to explain in embarrassment.

As people continue to pass by the man shyly smile at you, his cheeks turned slightly blushed.

“I apologize then Miss…” he trails off, smiling back once again you introduced yourself “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Nice to meet you (L/N), I’m Gojo Satoru.”

12:44 pm

My appointment is soon, but almost gagging earlier has given me anxiety. What if I can’t make it in time?

It was like if the man you just met sense your urgency and asked if things are alright.

“Oh thank you for the offer, but I’m fine I can go on my own!” You exclaimed as you start to walk towards the front entrance.

The white haired man caught up to you once again before beaming at you with a flashy smile of his

“No worries (L/N), I don’t mind!”

Looking down at the time you realized perhaps it would be best. You were anxious all week once you made your appointment for the doctors.

Looking around your surroundings before finally agreeing, you smiled back up at him thanking him.

You thought you’d follow him to the parking structure but his car was pulled up by the valet.

As the valet driver approached to open your door, Gojo reassured him letting himself open the door for you. Thanking him before settling inside his car, he was walking over to the drivers side.

Gojo looked up feeling a stare burn behind him, before driving away.

-

Y’all idk where this one is going either y’all were supposed to die & be sad.

Part 2? Idk either

(Not proofread I’ve been typing 3 hours straight.)

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 15 - 'Not Like That ’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.4k

You trudged up to Layla’s apartment, your emotions in complete turmoil. Trent’s touch still lingered on your skin, his promises echoing in your ears, but the guilt—oh, the guilt—it weighed you down. It felt like it was dragging you under. You went from being under your brother’s roof to on top of Trent’s dick in twenty minutes flat. You felt horrible and yet at the same time so unconditionally smitten. Layla opened the door and, at the sight of you, her face softened. She didn’t need to ask what was wrong. One look at you, and it was written all over your face: you were head over heels in love.

“Y/N,” she said softly, a small smirk forming on her lips as she crossed her arms. “Tell him.” She started bluntly. You blinked, confused. Was she talking about Jack? If so, absolutely not. You weren’t ready. 

“What?” You asked her naively, still not sure what she meant. Was she talking about being in love with Trent? If so, absolutely not. You weren’t ready. 

“Don’t give me that,” she said, stepping aside to let you in. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re in love with him. You’ve been in love with him. Tell him.” You stepped into her apartment, shrugging off your coat and kicking off your shoes before collapsing onto her couch like a marionette whose strings had been cut. You felt hollow and brimming over at the same time—his smile, his laugh, the feel of his hands on you, it all filled you with so much joy you thought you’d burst. Oh and that orgasm wasn’t so bad either. And yet, the shadow of Jack’s disapproval loomed over everything, darkening your happiness.

“I can’t,” you mumbled, pulling a cushion onto your lap and hugging it tightly. “I can’t just tell him.” Layla walked over and sat next to you, one leg tucked underneath her. 

“Why not?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand like this was the simplest problem in the world.

“Because… what if he doesn’t want to hear it?” you whispered, staring at the cushion like it held all the answers you were looking for. “What if he thinks I’m putting pressure on him or making things worse with Jack? I actually have no idea what we’re doing. One day we say we’re stepping forward and the next we’re behind closed doors again.” You began to babble 

“Y/N.” Layla reached over and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at her. Her voice was calm but insistent. “Love isn’t meant to be hidden behind closed doors, even if this relationship is. It’s meant to be shared, to be shown. You know that better than anyone. You have to tell him” You looked down at your intertwined hands, your throat tightening. 

“But what if loving him isn’t enough? He keeps saying we’ll tell people soon, but what does that even mean? What happens next? Jack will be furious, and I—I just don’t know if I can keep doing this. It feels like I’m stuck in the middle of this storm, and I don’t know which way to go.” Layla squeezed your hand, her eyes softening as she tilted her head.

“That’s for you and T to figure out. Together. But you can’t figure it out if you’re both holding back. I know you think he knows you love him, but have you said it? Have you looked him in the eyes and told him how you feel?” Your lip quivered as tears welled up in your eyes. You shook your head. 

“I’m scared.” You whimpered.

“Babe, you can be scared but things will stay exactly as they are unless you do something here. Not making a decision is also making a decision.” She gave you classic Layla advice. Something you knew to be factually true but you dreaded it’s harsh realities.   

“I’ve loved him my whole life, Lays. Why am I so terrified of him knowing? Why am I so scared to just say it?” Layla leaned forward, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. 

“Because it’s real,” she said softly. “You’re scared because this love, this big, beautiful, terrifying thing you feel—it could change everything. And change is scary. T isn’t some boy you’ve been hooking up with that you met at a club and caught feelings for… This is the type of relationship that was written in the stars.” She smirked. And you giggled at the cliche. “Sorry that was cheesy but seriously, it is. It’s a for life type thing. And, Y/N…” She gave you a pointed look. “If you’ve loved him for this long, it’s not going anywhere. This is it. He’s it. And you owe it to yourself—to both of you—to tell him. Keeping it inside is only hurting you.” Layla had seen you ache for his attention for years and unbeknownst to you, you held his attention for years but now you were at a place where the tides had changed, you were finally together. Finally able to tell him just how you felt . And you had to make the decision. How badly did you want this? How much were you willing to risk? Truly, how much did you love him? And you knew the answer. He was all consuming. The type of love that made your heart hurt. The idea of life without him terrifying. You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. Her words hit you right in the chest, a painful truth you couldn’t ignore. But the thought of saying it, of laying your heart bare, made your stomach twist in knots.

“I just…” Your voice broke, and you looked at her helplessly. “I don’t want to lose him, Layla. What if I say it and he doesn’t feel the same?” Layla shook her head, her expression gentle but firm. 

“You won’t lose him, Y/N. Not Trent. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That boy is a goner, whether he’s admitted it aloud or not. He’s in love with you. And if you tell him how you feel, I think you’ll finally see it too.” You stared at her, your heart pounding as her words began to sink in. A part of you wanted to believe her, to trust that this overwhelming love wasn’t one-sided, that Trent felt it too. But the fear was still there, clawing at your chest. You leaned back against the couch, closing your eyes and taking a shaky breath.

“I’ve loved him my whole life,” you whispered again, more to yourself than to her. “And I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified of anything in my life.” Layla smiled, reaching over to squeeze your knee. 

“That’s how you know it’s worth it.” She cooed gently. “He’s worth it but Y/N… you’re worth it, he’ll show you that if you give him the opportunity to.” She hummed with a warmth that she’d given you your whole life. 

A girl you and Jack mutually knew was throwing a party tonight and so like many other times you found yourself out with Trent and yet simultaneously being anything but that. The party pulsed around you, the bass thumping through the walls and into your chest as you stood beside Jack and his friends. You tagged along with them but in reality it was soley to be close to Trent. You had decided you wanted to tell him and whether or not you would tonight or not didn’t matter, you just couldn’t get enough of him. You were drunk off the Tequila shots you took before you arrived and the love that was all consuming.  You were doing your best to blend into the group though, sipping your drink and pretending to laugh at their jokes when you heard Aiden’s voice cut through.

“Mate, Jess is here. So fucking leng. You gonna clap again?” he asked Trent, grinning as if it were the funniest thing in the world. You froze. The words hit you like a slap, sharp and stinging. Your breath hitched, your stomach twisting in knots as you glanced at Trent. He looked annoyed, shaking his head at Aiden’s comment, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. You loved him and even though it was in the past… maybe he had loved Jess, maybe he’d even had told her he loved her.  But with you… he hadn’t told you. He couldn’t tell you. He had you hid behind closed doors while all his friends still talked about his previous lovers. 

“I need a drink,” you mumbled, your voice unsteady as you turned on your heel and walked away. Trent’s head whipped around at your sudden departure, his brows furrowing. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know why you left.

“I’m gonna grab a drink with her,” he said to the group, already following you. His long strides quickly closed in on you, and he called out over the noise once a safe distance apart was made.

“Baby, stop!” He whispered a quiet yelp. You loved him, you knew you loved him now and you were going to tell him but right now the thought of someone else having the man you loved hurt more than you could imagine.  You kept walking, heading toward the quieter end of the hall, away from the prying eyes of the party. Tears were already stinging your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, not yet. Trent caught up, reaching for your wrist. “Baby, stop. Please,” he said again, softer this time. You stopped but didn’t turn to face him. He stepped in front of you, his hand moving to cup your cheek as he tilted your face toward him. “Hey, look at me,” he whispered. “What’s going on?” Your lip trembled, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Jess? Really? Aiden had to say that in front of everyone? And you have nothing to say to him? I just—I can’t— ” You broke off, shaking your head as tears blurred your vision. Trent’s expression softened. 

“Baby, don’t,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. He kissed the top of your head, trailing soft kisses down to your ear, then along your jaw. “Don’t let Aiden’s stupid comments about the past get to you. I’m here with you. You know that.” You pushed him away, tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“You’re not though, are you? You’re here with Jack and Aiden and everyone else! And Jess—she was yours, wasn’t she? She got to have a piece of you, even for a moment, everyone knows that and I don’t. I never have. I just…” You trailed off, your voice breaking. Trent’s jaw tightened. He sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. It hurt that Trent belonged to everyone but you. 

“Y/N…” he said carefully, his tone laced with frustration and concern. He didn’t want to kick off and explain why you and he were doing things this way and why you didn’t have to worry but he just couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him. 

“Do you know what?” you snapped, your voice rising with each word. “Then I’m not here with you either.” You rashly blurted out. How could he stand there and let Aiden talk about him having sex with another girl right in front of you? If he wanted to act like you were nothing, then you were going to show him just what it felt like if you were nothing to him. 

“Don’t do this,” Trent said firmly, stepping toward you again. But you were already too far gone, the envy and hurt drowning out any rational thought, all of it mixing with the liquor in your stomach. 

“Have a good night with Jess,” you spat before yanking your wrist free of his grip and storming down the hall. But it wasn’t about Jess specifically, not even a little. It was idiotic, it was brash, and childish but you were drunk and you were feeling petty and tired of being nothing in his life to everyone around you two.

“Y/N, wait!” Trent called after you, his voice breaking slightly. But you didn’t stop. You shoved past the other partygoers, ignoring them as tears streamed down your face. You barely registered Trent’s footsteps behind you or the way he called your name one last time before letting you go but you didn’t turn back. The ache in your chest grew heavier with each step you took, but your pride wouldn’t let you stop. When you reached the front door and stepped outside, the cold air hit your face, sharp and biting. You stopped, clutching your arms around yourself as the weight of your emotions threatened to crush you. The world felt too loud, too bright, and all you wanted was to escape. Inside, Trent stood frozen in the hallway, his hands on his hips as he exhaled a long, shaky breath. Aiden passed by, raising a brow.

“What’s her problem?” he asked, oblivious. Trent didn’t answer. 

“Fuck.” He ran a hand over his hair, muttering to himself. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what to do. And the thought of losing you because of a stupid joke? It made him feel like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He was annoyed that you were being childish and yet annoyed there was the slightest smallest part of him that knew it was mildly fucked up he couldn’t tell off Aiden. 

Trent was beyond frustrated. He sat stiffly on the couch with some other lads, forcing himself to appear relaxed even as he felt anything but. He hadn’t been able to focus on a word of their conversation. His eyes kept flicking toward you, his heart sinking every time he saw you laughing or talking with some guy on the other side of the room. You looked too damn happy for someone who had stormed off earlier, leaving him fuming. You made your point, if Trent could act like you were nothing to him at this party… So could you. Every casual touch the guy gave you, every time you leaned in close to talk over the music, it felt like someone was twisting a knife in his chest. He stayed seated, but his fists were clenched tightly, his jaw set. He was trying—really trying—to keep his temper in check, but it was a losing battle. But then he saw Noah. The sight of Noah in the kitchen with Josh—drunken, stumbling Josh—made Trent freeze. His mood darkened instantly, his anger sharpening into something cold and focused. What the fuck was he doing here? Trent’s mind raced. Had Josh just shown up, or worse, had you invited him? That thought alone was enough to make his blood boil. His breath came quicker as he watched Noah struggling to keep Josh upright. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t good. He could feel it in his gut. And then Josh’s voice broke through the noise of the party.

“I saw her location—where the fuck is the slut?” Josh slurred loudly, his words venomous. The word sliced through Trent like a blade. In an instant, he was on his feet, storming across the room. His long strides closed the distance in seconds, and before Josh even realized what was happening, Trent shoved him hard. Josh’s back hit the wall with a thud, his shoulder pinned under Trent’s hand. His drunken smirk faltered as Trent leaned in close, his face a mask of fury.

“Call her that fucking one more time,” Trent growled, his voice low and dangerous. Josh’s initial surprise melted into a cocky, drunken grin. He laughed, a sound that only fueled Trent’s anger.

“I’m just here to tell Jack what a little whore his sister is for his best friend,” Josh sneered, his words slow and deliberate, dripping with malice. Trent’s grip on his shoulder tightened. His muscles tensed, every fiber of his being screaming to put this prick in his place. But before Trent could act, Josh turned his attention to Noah.

“What about you, Noah? You in on this, bro? Do you get a turn with her too?” Josh mocked, his voice loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby partygoers. Noah’s face twisted in disgust. His hand flexed at his side, his body coiled like a spring. 

“Fuck you, bro,” he spat, his voice sharp and cold. Josh’s grin widened. He was too drunk to recognize the danger in Noah’s expression. Noah said he wouldn’t keep this from Jack when asked but he just as hell wasn’t going to let Josh talk like this.  

 “Come on, let’s find the whore. Make sure she gets a front-row seat to watch me tell Jack what she’s been keeping quiet while keeping her mouth stuffed,” he jeered. That was it. Trent’s hand slammed harder against Josh’s shoulder, pinning him so tightly that Josh winced in pain. 

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” Trent hissed, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. But before Trent could do anything more, Noah stepped in.

“Nah, enough of this,” Noah snapped, shoving Trent’s hand away. He stepped forward, his fist flying in one smooth motion. The punch landed square on Josh’s face with a sickening crack. The impact echoed in the room, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. Josh stumbled, his back sliding down the wall as he crumpled to the floor. Blood poured from his nose, staining his shirt as he groaned in pain. His drunken bravado was gone, replaced by a dazed, pathetic look as he clutched his face.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Noah barked, his voice thunderous. He delivered a sharp kick to Josh’s legs, making him flinch. Josh scrambled, his movements clumsy and panicked.  Trent grabbed Noah firmly, his fingers digging into his shoulder as he pulled him back.

 “That’s enough, bro,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp, glancing down at Josh, who was slumped against the wall clutching his bleeding nose. The rage still simmered in Noah’s eyes, but Trent’s grip was unrelenting. “Leave it. He’s not worth it.” Josh muttered curses under his breath, swiping at the blood dripping onto his shirt. 

“This isn’t over,” he spat, his voice thick and slurred from the alcohol. “Jack’s gonna know everything. She’s not hiding behind you anymore.”

“Get the fuck out of here before I finish what Noah started,” Trent snapped, his voice taut with restrained fury. Josh shot them both a venomous glare. Noah flexed his sore knuckles, the adrenaline still coursing through him. 

“All for that whore? Fucking keep her.” he slurred, his words muffled by the blood dripping from his nose. He staggered to his feet, still holding his face as he stumbled toward the door. Trent stood frozen for a moment, his chest heaving as he watched Josh disappear into the night. He let out a shaky breath, his anger still simmering but tempered by relief. Noah shook out his hand, flexing his fingers. His knuckles were already red and swelling, but his expression was calm. 

“Bloody hell, that felt good,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Trent turned to him, his shoulders still tense. 

“Thanks, mate,” he said quietly. His voice was rough, laced with genuine gratitude. Noah shrugged, his lips twitching into a small, humorless smile. 

“No one can talk about her like that,” he said simply. Trent nodded, his jaw tightening as he glanced back toward the party. His focus shifted, his mind racing with worry. Where were you? Had you heard any of that? Had Josh already said something to you before this? He didn’t know, but one thing was clear—he needed to find you— the games needed to end. 

“Should’ve let me hit him one more time,” Noah muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Trent ignored the comment, his focus already shifting to what needed to happen next. They couldn’t afford for this to spiral any further.

“Come on,” he said, gripping Noah’s arm and leading him back into the party. As they navigated through the crowd, Trent’s mind raced. Jack was somewhere in this house, completely unaware of the chaos brewing just outside. He had to keep it that way—at least for now. They found Jack by the bar, laughing with a group of friends, a drink in hand. The sight of him, so carefree and unbothered, made Trent’s stomach twist. It wasn’t guilt, exactly—he didn’t regret you—but the weight of the secret between them felt heavier in this moment. Jack’s laughter trailed off when he noticed them approaching. His gaze flicked to Noah’s hand, the bruises already starting to form. 

“Oi, what happened to you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Noah hesitated for a fraction of a second, his jaw tightening. He’d told Trent he wouldn’t lie to Jack if asked directly, but this wasn’t the time to blow everything up. Not after what had just gone down.

“Nothing, mate,” Noah said, brushing it off with an exaggerated shrug. “Some idiot showed up who wasn’t invited, started mouthing off. We sorted it.” Jack’s brow furrowed slightly. 

“Yeah? Who was it?” Trent stepped in before Noah could answer, his tone calm but firm. 

“Doesn’t matter. Just some waste man trying to start shit. It’s all sorted now.” He forced a smile, hoping to diffuse the situation. “No big deal.” Jack’s eyes lingered on them for a moment longer, suspicion flickering across his face, but then he shrugged, letting it go.

“Fair enough. You lot are on edge tonight, though. Chill out, yeah?” Trent chuckled, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Yeah, mate. All good now.” He nudged Noah, silently urging him to back up the story.

“Yeah, sorted,” Noah added, though his voice lacked the usual confidence. He flexed his knuckles again, the sting reminding him of what had just gone down. Jack seemed satisfied, his attention already drifting back to the conversation he’d been having before they arrived. Trent and Noah exchanged a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

“Where’s Megan?” Trent asked suddenly, desperate to steer the conversation away from anything that might circle back to Josh or you. Jack smirked, gesturing vaguely toward the living room. “She’s around somewhere. I need to find her actually.”

“Yeah, should do,” Trent said, feigning a casualness he didn’t feel. As Jack turned back to his friends, Trent let out a quiet sigh of relief. For now, the immediate danger had passed, but the tension in his chest remained. Josh might have been dealt with, but the underlying issue—the secret he and you were desperately trying to protect—was far from resolved and yet simultaneously falling apart. Noah leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only Trent could hear.

 “This is getting pretty fucking messy, mate.” Noah whispered. Trent nodded, his jaw tightening. 

“Yeah. But I’m not letting it fall apart. Not now.” Trent replied determined. Noah didn’t respond, but the doubt in his expression spoke volumes. Trent clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He’d already risked too much to let it all slip away now. He wasn’t letting your drunken childishness derail where you and him had been headed but he let you have your space for the night, agonizingly, because his best mate, your brother was still in the room. It felt like he was in every room, literally and figuratively.

The party continued to thump with music and laughter, but Trent could barely hear it over the storm in his head. His eyes were fixed on you, your face glowing under the dim lights as you talked to some guy on the far side of the room. You weren’t doing anything inappropriate—he knew that. He knew you wouldn’t… well he hoped you wouldn’t. Still, the way you leaned in, smiled, and laughed, it was clear the conversation was casual, harmless. Yet, it felt like a knife twisting in his gut. 

“Staring much?” Jess’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, smooth and sharp as glass. She had sidled up next to him, her drink in hand, watching him with that familiar, knowing smirk. Trent tensed, his jaw tightening. 

“What do you want, Jess?” He snapped not angry at her but angry with his circumstances.

“Relax,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just observing. You’ve been glued to her all night—well, from a distance anyway.” She took a slow sip of her drink, her eyes flicking between him and you. He didn’t respond, refusing to take the bait, but his silence only encouraged her. “But she’s just Jack’s sister, though, right?” Jess said, her tone almost playful, but there was an edge to her words. He didn't reply but his silence was telling and she knew exactly why and she was going to confirm her long time suspicion. “Fine, then why do you care so much about who Jack's sister's talking to?” The question, the way it was phrased, hit like a slap, and Trent’s gaze finally broke from you to meet Jess’s, her brow raised. His expression was cold, defensive, but she didn’t back down. 

“She’s not just Jack’s sister,” he said quietly, but firmly, his voice low enough that only Jess could hear. Jess tilted her head, her smirk softening into something more curious. 

“You’ve always liked her.” Jess stated very matter of fact. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Trent scoffed, shaking his head as he tried to brush her off. 

“Oh, don’t I?” Jess raised an eyebrow again, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall beside him. “Come on, T. You’ve been obvious about it for years. Even when we were…” She waved her hand vaguely, not needing to finish the sentence. “You were still buying her gifts. I mean, you bought her a car. Do you think I didn’t notice that?” She raised her brows. Trent stiffened, the guilt hitting him like a tidal wave

“That’s different.” He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. 

“Different?” Jess laughed lightly, incredulous. “You bought her a fucking car, Trent. And the next night, you were in my bed. How is that different?” She laughed incredulously.  He didn’t answer, his silence saying more than he could. Jess studied him for a moment, her expression softening. “Look, I don’t care what happened between us. It was over before it even started. But you’re being stupid if you think this is just going to go away. You like her. No—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I was being nice, saying you ‘like’ her. You’re in love with her.” Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he turned away, staring at the floor. “You always have been.” She doubled down. 

“I can’t be in love with Jack’s sister,” He muttered more to himself, discouraged by reality, the words feeling hollow even as he said them. Tonight was turning into a larger mess than he anticipated. His brain was just filled to the brim with a sludge of turmoil. You and him fighting, trying to keep this whole thing  a secret, Josh showing up, him jealous of you talking with other men, angry you couldn’t be together in public, having to hide how he felt, and now Jess calling him out for being in love with you… it was all too much. Then she let out a quiet laugh, stepping closer. 

“You are. And I think you’re scared because it’s the first time you actually mean it.” He looked at her, his throat tightening but Jess just returned a look back at him expectantly.  

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but it was riddled with conflict.

“It’s never simple,” Jess replied, her tone gentle now. “ But T…I’ve never seen someone so blatantly in love in my life. You’ve told a lot of people that word before but I don’t think you’ve ever meant it the way you mean it about her. I’ve known you for a long time and you’ve never acted the way you do around anyone else the way you act around her.” She gestured toward you, still deep in conversation with the guy on the other side of the room. “With her, it’s different. You’ve been hiding it, albeit pretty sneakily for a while, but it’s written all over you. In everything you do, everything you say, you’re in love with her.”

“I… I…” Trent swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he struggled to find the words.

“You love her,” Jess said, cutting him off. “Just admit it to yourself, Trent. Because the longer you keep hiding it, the worse it’s going to be. For you. For her. For everyone.” He didn’t respond, his thoughts a tangled mess. “Tell her,” Jess said softly, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before walking away. Jess had deduced the situation on her own but Jess knowing could very well lead to Megan knowing… and to Jack knowing. He felt nauseous. Trent stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides. His gaze drifted back to you, and his heart ached at the sight of you laughing at something the guy said. He was frustrated—at Jess for figuring him out so easily, at you for talking to another guy, at himself for hiding his feelings for so long. But most of all, he was frustrated because he knew Jess was right. He was in love with you, and there was no running from it anymore.

The party had been a blur of bright lights, loud laughter, and pointless conversation. You played along with your usual charm, smiling at jokes you didn’t find funny, entertaining questions you didn’t care to answer. But your mind wasn’t really in it. How could it be when Trent was here, somewhere in the room, pretending as if you didn’t exist? It was infuriating. The way he leaned casually against the wall, his sharp eyes roaming the crowd as if he wasn’t tracking your every movement. He let you play your game, allowed you to laugh and flirt and pretend you were nothing to him. But it was a charade, one you hated as much as you hated him for going along with it. You weren’t even listening to the person in front of you. A friend of a friend, someone whose name you couldn’t remember and whose voice was drowned out by the buzzing in your ears. Instead, your focus was razor-sharp on Trent. Every time he moved, every time his gaze slid your way, it sent a ripple of satisfaction through you. You weren’t speaking to him, but you wanted to make sure he was paying attention. And he was—oh, he definitely was. The occasional flicker of frustration in his expression betrayed him, even if he didn’t know it.

As the party began to wind down, the energy in the room shifted. The pounding bass softened into a mellow hum, and the crowd thinned, clusters of people dispersing to quieter corners. The air, once thick with excitement, now carried a calm buzz, like the tail end of a high. You felt the tension between you and Trent only grow in the quiet. He hadn’t approached you all night, but you could feel his presence like a magnetic pull. But there he was, next to Jack—the thorn in your side, the immovable obstacle keeping you apart. Jack leaned against the wall beside Trent, his body language casual but his presence heavy, like a silent barrier between the two of you. His protective instincts, his inevitable misplaced anger, and his stubbornness were like chains around Trent, keeping him tethered and out of reach. Jack wasn’t even looking at you; he was busy talking to Megan, laughing at something that didn’t matter. Yet his very presence was enough to keep Trent rooted where he was, holding him back, keeping him from coming to you. Trent, on the other hand, wasn’t laughing. His focus was sharp, his jaw tight as his eyes stayed locked on yours. There was a heat there, an unspoken apology mixed with longing and frustration. It was infuriating to see you so close yet so far, finding himself stuck in a position he clearly didn’t want to be in. You tried to act unaffected, but you could still feel his eyes on you, a weight you couldn’t shake. And so the night dragged on, the tension between you and Trent simmering like an untamed flame, burning quietly under the surface. Neither of you moved toward the other, both waiting for a break in the armor, a crack in the barrier that was Jack. And then it came. Jack leaned over to Trent, his arm loosely draped around Megan. 

“Alright, I’m heading back with Meg,” he said, nodding toward you, who was still chatting with a group of people across the room. “Look out for her, yeah?” Trent’s stomach tightened at the request, but he nodded casually but in his head he was saying ‘finally.’ Finally he could go and stop this stupid game, finally he could go and get his girl.  

“Yeah, I got her.” The second Jack walked out of the party, Trent made a beeline for you, his jaw set, his movements purposeful. The group you were standing with noticed him before you did, their conversation fading as Trent approached. You turned to find him standing just a little too close, his dark eyes locked on yours with a mixture of annoyance and something else—something deeper. 

“Alright, we all done here?” he asked, his tone low and bordering on impatient. You blinked in confusion, glancing around. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder nervously. Nervous Jack might’ve still been there. Trent took your wrist and gently pulled you out of the group. You stumbled slightly in your heels, your cheeks flushing with heat as the two of you stepped into a quieter corner. “What is your problem?” you asked, flustered and trying to catch your balance. He stared at you, his jaw clenching briefly before he spoke. 

“Did you like talking to other lads more than me?” he asked, his tone deadpan but mocking. His eyes burned with something more intense. Your brows furrowed in confusion.  

“What? Are you serious right now?” You tried to fight back but you could feel the power shift. Your game had been flipped on it’s head. Trent knew you didn’t want to talk to anyone else and he wanted to hear you say it. Trent didn’t respond immediately, his lips pulling into a slow, devious smirk as he studied your reaction. 

“Did you like talking to those other lads more than me?” He asked again arrogantly. He was annoyed, sure, but the game of it all—the chase, the tension—sparked something in him. He thrived on it, on winning, and right now, he was certain he had the upper hand. You tried to hold your ground, tried to pretend you didn’t care, but every nerve in your body was tuned to him. And when your eyes met, the game stopped. For just a moment, there was no pretending, no clever quips or feigned indifference. Just the two of you, caught up in the closeness of the other. 

“I…” You tried to talk but you couldn’t come up with anything witty. Your thoughts were drenched in tequila and annoyingly, a longing for Trent. 

“Did you like the way he touched you?” he questioned you, his voice dropping lower, his eyes narrowing slightly. Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked away, suddenly sheepish. 

“No,” you muttered softly and bashful, staring down at your feet as your heels began to ache. Trent’s smirk softened into a knowing smile, and he reached out to pull you into his arms. 

“C’mere, baby,” he murmured, wrapping you up in his embrace and swaying you gently. The warmth of his touch melted away your embarrassment, and you buried your face against his chest.

“I don’t like parties without you.” You mumbled. Drunkenly, you clung to him tighter. You missed him all night. The whole evening was stupidly lonely. Before you even ever kissed Trent, you used to always spend parties with him. You’d find yourself tucked off in corners but now you only wanted that more. 

“I knowww,” he teased, dragging out the word playfully as his fingers traced lazy circles on your back. “That’s why you’re supposed to stay with me.” His words made your heart flip, and when you looked up at him, the softness in his eyes unraveled you. “Could’ve kept my hands on this waist all night,” His hands dropped to your waist with a squeeze.  “Could’ve whispered in my ear how much you wanted me the whole night, baby.” His tone dropped and so did his hands, he palmed your ass and your breath hitched. “Maybe could’ve even tucked off in one of the bedrooms…” He continued with a dangerously handsome smirk. At first you smiled loving where this was going but then the reality of what got you to this very moment came rushing back again.

“But we can’t… we couldn’t…” you began, your voice heavy with doubt. “People will know, and…”

“Nah,” Trent interrupted, his voice firm yet tender. “It’s just about you and me, pretty girl. We can.” And then he leaned in and kissed you. Your mind blanked, every thought replaced by the overwhelming sensation of his lips on yours. The party, the risks, the people—it all melted away. When he pulled back, you stared at him in disbelief. 

“You just kissed me… at a party,” you whispered, your voice tinged with awe and nervous excitement. He grinned, unbothered by the potential consequences. 

“Don’t care who sees.” He kissed you again but you hesitated, guilt tugging at you. He could read you like a book. “Jack’s not here.” He sympathetically smiled.  

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think it was the tequila. I didn’t mean to be a brat earlier.” You sheepishly admitted. 

“You were a brat,” he replied, his smirk returning, and you swatted playfully at his chest.

“But I really am sorry,” you cooed, your tone sincere and gentle as you smiled at him.

“I know, pretty girl,” Trent said, his voice soft and reassuring. “We’re good, though. You know we are.” He confirmed as you nodded, a giggle escaping your lips as you leaned in to kiss him again, this time without hesitation. The room seemed to fade as you lost yourself in him, in the sheer audacity of kissing him in a room full of people. But the magic of the moment was interrupted when you noticed the stares. People had seen the kiss. You pulled back slightly, your eyes darting around the room. 

“T…” you whispered nervously. He simply smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek. 

“Doesn’t matter, baby,” he said softly. “Let ‘em see.” For the first time, you felt the tides shifting. The secrecy, the constant hiding—it was beginning to feel like it might not matter anymore. Trent was right. It was just about you and him. Maybe the time was approaching. Trent loved you, he just didn’t care about anything else anymore.

You stumbled into Trent's house, your body thrumming with energy, the unresolved tension from the party driving you both toward this moment. The door clicked shut behind you, but it was barely registered before Trent's hands were on you, firm and insistent, pulling you against him as his lips found yours in a bruising kiss.

"Come here. Need more of you," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.You giggled breathlessly as his arms wrapped around you, lifting you as if you weighed nothing.Instinctively, your legs locked around his waist, and he held you tightly, his lips brushing along your jawline, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck. The house was dim, but you hardly noticed; your entire focus was on him-his warmth, his scent, his touch. By the time he carried you upstairs, you were both a mess of laughter and breathy whispers. He reached the bedroom door, nudging it open with his shoulder before setting you down for the briefest of moments, only to scoop you back up and toss you onto the bed. You landed with a surprised gasp, the mattress bouncing slightly beneath you as you propped yourself up on your elbows. Trent stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your cheeks burn. You giggled sweetly with a juxtaposed seductive stare.  "Don't look at me like that," he said, his lips curving into a smirk as he began unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers deft and quick.

"Like what?" you asked teasingly, your voice tinged with mischief as you let your knees fall apart, the fabric of your dress slipping higher up your thighs.

"Like you don't already know how much I want you," he muttered, his tone rougher now. His shirt fell to the floor, revealing his broad chest and toned abs, and you couldn't help but let your gaze linger, biting your lip as your own anticipation built. And then your playful teasing faltered when he spoke again. “Get this off. Teased me all fucking night.”  He cooed as his hands reached for your dress, tugging it up and over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in just your underwear. "God, look at you… fucking unreal" he breathed, his eyes raking over your body as if he couldn't quite believe you were real. You scooted back on the bed, your thighs parting further as you gave him a knowing look.You spread your legs cheekily giving him a good view of you. His eyes were fixed on your glistening pussy. His jaw clenched, and he crawled toward you, his movements deliberate and predatory. "Always teasing me," he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

"Always," you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His lips crashed against yours, and the kiss was all-consuming-hot, messy, and desperate. You tugged at his waistband, your fingers fumbling with his belt, and he groaned into your mouth as you finally freed him. Trent pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hunger and adoration. His hands slid down your body, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he tossed your underwear aside.You couldn't respond; your breath hitched as his fingers slid through your folds, his touch gentle yet purposeful. His gaze dropped to where you were already wet for him, and a low groan escaped his lips. "So fucking pretty f’me," he said, almost to himself, as he spread your slick with his fingers. "Already so wet."

"T," you gasped, your hips bucking toward his touch, craving more.

"Patience, baby," he teased, though his own restraint was wearing thin. His fingers circled your clit, drawing out a whimper from you as your body arched into him. "Tell me how bad you need me," he demanded softly, his voice tinged with urgency.

"More than anything. Please, baby,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your hands reaching for his shoulders to pull him closer. He leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost reverent kiss. 

"Then be patient and let me give you everything." Before you could respond, he moved lower, his mouth replacing his fingers as he tasted you, his tongue sliding over your most sensitive spots with devastating precision. You cried out his name, your hands tangling in his hair as he took his time worshiping you, his touch both tender and unrelenting. When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your slick, his eyes met yours, dark with need. He climbed back up your body, his hand guiding himself to your entrance, and as he pushed inside, you both let out matching moans of relief and pleasure. "All mine," he murmured against your lips, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first before his pace quickened, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

"Yours," you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. And in that moment, nothing else mattered-just you, Trent, and the way you both made each other feel completely whole. Then suddenly, he flipped you over effortlessly, his strength sending a thrill down your spine. You instinctively arched your back, presenting yourself to him, desperate and needy. The cool air hit your exposed skin just before the sharp sting of his palm connected with your ass, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

"That's it, baby. That's my girl," Trent murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with pride and desire. You felt his hands slide up your thighs, firm and possessive, before they settled on your hips, gripping you tightly. His thumbs caressed the soft skin of your cheeks, a stark contrast to the way his fingers dug into you as he held you steady. He pulled his hips back slowly, teasing you, before driving into you again with measured control. The sensation was overwhelming. His steady, deliberate thrusts sent sparks through your entire body. Your mouth opened in a silent cry, your fingers clutching the sheets beneath you as your body responded to him, pleasure building rapidly with every stroke. "Fuck, you're perfect like this," he muttered, his voice dripping with reverence as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, placing a gentle kiss there before his breath ghosted against your ear. Trent hesitated for a moment, his thoughts betraying him. Not now. He couldn’t. He knew he shouldn't say it, knew he should hold back, but he couldn't resist.  "I love…” He began but then he caught himself. “I love it when you cum for me," he confessed against your back, his voice rough with need and affection. And while it was true he did love to make you cum, he loved you a lot more than anything else. Still, his words made your whole body shiver, and he noticed the way your walls clenched around him in response. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" he teased, snapping back to the moment with a cocky grin tugging at his lips as his pace picked up. Trent adjusted his angle, pulling your hips higher so he could thrust deeper, his strokes faster and more relentless.

“Oh my god. You fuck me so good, T.” You whimpered. “Please keep going. Shit. You’re so deep.” His hands gripped your ass firmly, guiding you as he chased both your pleasure and his own. Your muffled moans filled the room, your face pressed into the mattress as you struggled to keep up with the overwhelming intensity of his movements. Your back arched even further, giving him everything, and he groaned in appreciation. The recoil of your ass from his hard thrusts had Trent in pure heaven.

"You're so good for me, baby," he praised, his voice thick with emotion and lust. "Taking me so well." His words sent you spiraling, and you felt the tension in your core snap as your orgasm hit you like a wave, your entire body trembling under him. Trent felt you unravel, your walls fluttering around him, and it only pushed him closer to the edge.

"Fuck, that's my girl," he growled, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his release, his grip on you tightening. With a final groan, he buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he spilled into you. He stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving as he pressed kisses to your damp skin, his hands soothing the spots where his grip had been firm. He pulled out slowly, watching as you collapsed onto the bed, your body completely spent. Trent lay down beside you, pulling you into his arms as he kissed your temple.  "You okay, baby?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You nodded, your cheek resting against his chest as you caught your breath.

"Better than," you murmured, a lazy smile playing on your lips 

"Good," he said, his arms tightening around you protectively. "Because you're not going anywhere. You're mine."

"Always yours," you whispered, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull you into blissful contentment. The silence that fell between you was thick but comfortable, the kind that spoke volumes without words. Both of you were utterly spent, your bodies and minds floating in a haze of bliss. Trent broke the quiet after a while, a hearty laugh bubbling from his chest, shaking both of you.

"You're amazing, pretty girl, you know that?" he said, his voice rich with affection. He leaned over, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, his tenderness making your heart flutter despite your exhaustion. He rolled onto his side, but not for long. With a soft tug, he pulled your limp body back into his embrace, wrapping you up as though he couldn't bear to let you go. His hands ran gently over your bare skin, soothing and grounding you, while his lips peppered kisses into your hair. You nuzzled into him instinctively, the warmth of his chest against your cheek and the steady rhythm of his breathing making you feel safe. The feeling of fullness-both physical and emotional-left you blissfully tired, your body melting into his. You were tucked into Trent's bed, his scent surrounding you like a cocoon. Your body was spent, your skin still humming from the intensity of your time together. You nestled closer, letting the warmth of his embrace lull you into a state of almost delusion. 

"Baby?" you murmured hesitantly, your voice soft and drowsy. "Did I see… erm… Josh at the party?" You asked cautiously but curiously. Trent's grip on you tightened slightly as he hummed in response, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

"Don't worry about that, pretty girl," he murmured, his voice steady but his jaw clenched. You shifted to look up at him, catching the faintest flicker of irritation in his features before he kissed your hair again, soothing you back into his chest. A faint memory flicked in your head. Did you see Josh on the ground? Was Noah talking to him? Did Trent see him?

"Did he say something?" you asked, your brow furrowing in concern. Trent's hands slid across your bare skin, as if staking his claim that you were his now, his touch grounding both of you as he let out a deep breath.

"Nah, we're done talking about that lad in my bed," he said firmly, his tone softening as he cupped your chin and tilted your face up to his. His thumb brushed your lips as his dark eyes locked onto yours. "You only say my name in here," he added, leaning in to kiss you deeply. Your heart fluttered as you melted into his kiss, his possessiveness igniting something deep inside you. 

"Only you," you murmured against his lips. "Always you." He pulled back just enough to gaze at you, his expression softening as his thumb traced your cheek. "I've waited my whole life to say your name," you admitted shyly, the vulnerability in your voice making his chest ache.

"Good," he whispered, kissing you again, slower this time, savoring you. "You’re gonna keep saying it because you're just for me. You're not for anyone else." His arms wrapped around you tighter, his hands splaying possessively over your back as if holding onto you could erase any doubt, any threat from earlier. You felt the intensity of his words, his need to claim and protect you, and it made you feel more cherished than ever.

"Never," you whispered, letting yourself surrender to the safety of his arms. "I'm not going anywhere, T."

"Damn right you're not," he whispered back, his lips brushing against your temple as he held you close. "You're mine, baby. Always mine." He told you thinking maybe tomorrow he’d tell you why. Tell you that you’d always be his because he loved you, loved you more than anything in the whole world. Maybe tomorrow he thought. 

"Okay, sleep," you muttered, the two words slipping from your lips as if it was all you could muster. The short admin slicing his thoughts and plans. Trent laughed softly at your minimal vocabulary, the sound vibrating against you and filling the quiet room. 

"Alright, baby," he whispered, his voice laced with amusement and adoration. "Sleep, l've got you." The heat of his body, the sound of his heartbeat, and the gentle strokes of his hand on your back lulled you into the deepest comfort. Just as you felt yourself slipping into sleep, you felt the softness of his lips pressing a final kiss to your temple. "Night, my pretty girl," he murmured, holding you tighter as you drifted off in the safety of his arms. But while you and Trent slept peacefully cozied up together in his bed tangled in the sheets and blossoming feelings of love… Jack was across town wide awake. 

Jack had always been clever. It was his knack for strategy—whether it be at his work or in his personal life—that made him a force to reckon with, something you’d been weary of and should’ve stayed weary of. But you had a lapse, that night, when he left the party, his mind was already spinning. He knew something was off. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught glimpses of tension between you and Trent, but he needed proof. Concrete evidence. So, he set the trap. Before leaving, he texted you, casually asking if you were staying at Layla’s, knowing full well you’d say yes. It was easy—too easy. He then told Trent to make sure you got home safe, a move so seemingly innocent that it didn’t even rouse suspicion. He’d done it 100 times. And then, when he checked your location at 5 a.m. and saw you at Trent’s house, the pieces all fell into place. Jack didn’t call. He didn’t text. He didn’t want to give either of you a chance to prepare or cover your tracks. Instead, he got into his car, the early morning stillness doing nothing to calm the storm brewing inside him. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a pale golden glow over Trent’s neighborhood. Inside, the house was quiet. You were still asleep, curled up against Trent in the tangled sheets, the remnants of the night before lingering in the air. Trent stirred slightly when he heard the doorbell, the sound faint but persistent. He frowned, groggy and disoriented. He assumed it was a delivery—an early package or maybe a neighbor. With a quiet groan, he carefully slid out of bed, trying not to wake you. He pulled on a pair of joggers as he headed down the stairs, yawning as he reached the door. When he opened it, the sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. Jack stood there, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with a fury Trent had never seen before.

“Jack—” Trent began, but he didn’t get the chance to say more.

"Want to tell me why my sister's here right now?" Jack's voice was measured but sharp, the kind of calm that felt more dangerous than an outright yell. He stood in Trent's doorway, taking in the sight of his best friend-disheveled, shirtless, and looking completely culpable. He was able to force a faux calm for the moment staring at Trent in just a pair of joggers, a hangover, tiredness, and guilt etched onto his face. Trent hesitated, his hand gripping the edge of the door as if he could keep Jack out. 

“Mate, listen—” he started cautiously, his voice low, but Jack wasn't having it. Trent tried to caution him. He hesitated, his body blocking the entrance but Jack was already moving past him through the door frame into the house. 

“Don’t ‘mate’ me,” Jack snapped, shoving past him into the house. “Where is she?” Jack demanded, stepping forward, his voice low and menacing. Trent opened his mouth but Jack spoke first again. “Nah go on what lie do you have for me now?” Jack snapped his fury starting to come to the surface “Where. Is. She?” Jack was pacing, his anger barely contained. “I knew it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I fucking knew it. All this time, I thought I was being paranoid, but no. You two—”

"It's not what you think. It’s not like that." Trent sighed, his head hanging for a moment before he turned to face Jack.  

"Not like that?" Jack repeated, his voice raising. "Don't insult me, bro. Don't stand there and pretend like I'm an idiot. My sister's at your house, and you're here in joggers looking like you've just crawled out of bed with her because I know she's fucking upstairs. So tell me how exactly is it not like that?" The tension between them escalated quickly, their voices rising, the heat of the argument echoing through the quiet morning.

“Jack,” Trent said, his voice steady but strained.

“Stop fucking lie to me!” Jack roared, his fists clenched. “You’ve been sneaking around with my little sister behind my back, haven’t you, yeah? Have you not been fucking my sister?” Jack snapped. Trent winced the words thrown at him with disgust. The house of cards had begun to  fall. Upstairs, you woke with a start, the shouting downstairs pulling you from your sleep, the sound of voices reaching your ears.  You sat up, confused, pulling the sheets around you as you listened. Your chest tightened as you registered Jack's voice, laced with anger and disbelief. Panicked, you scrambled out of bed, throwing on the nearest clothes you could find. You stumbled pulling on Trent's oversized t-shirt, the first thing within reach, and darted down the stairs, fear coursing through you.

"It's not what you think, Jack!" you blurted out, your bare legs exposed under Trent's shirt-a sight that immediately worked against you. Jack turned to you, his face a mixture of anger and betrayal.

 "Oh, it's exactly what I think," he snapped, gesturing toward you. "You're standing here, in his house, wearing his shirt. How is this not what I think?" He asked you almost mockingly.

"It's not-" you started again, your voice trembling, but Jack cut you off. The sight of the two of you together, the minimal clothes, the guilt written all over your faces, it was like gasoline on the fire of his anger. You tried to explain, but he was too wound up to listen.

"It is, though," Jack shot back, then turning his attention to Trent. "How long, huh? How long have you been fucking my little sister?" Jack’s realization that his best friend had been having sex with his sister stoked his fury even more. He felt betrayed, blindsided by the two people he trusted most. You flinched at his words, tears welling up in your eyes. His accusation cut deep, the sting of it like a slap to the face. His voice trembled with anger and hurt as he spat out his next words, his intense gaze snapping back to you “You’re really doing this? You’re actually sleeping with him? And for what? Just because he finally gave you a chance?” Jack’s words were filled with venom.

"Stop!" you shouted, stepping forward. "Jack, please it’s not like that, you don't understand,” you tried to say, but your voice was barely a whisper. Jack scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, so what is it, then? Enlighten me, Y/N. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're sneaking around with my best mate. My best fucking mate!" Trent stepped forward, his hands raised slightly in a defensive gesture. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Jack’s gaze stayed on you, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of betrayal and disgust. “I can’t believe you, Y/N. Sneaking around like this? How long has this been going on? How long have you been lying to me to fuck my best friend?” He spat, his words cutting deep.  Your stomach twisted painfully at his harsh words. You couldn’t answer any of the questions. You couldn’t organize your thoughts fast enough. You felt your cheeks burn with shame, tears welling up in your eyes, blurring an expression on his face you’d never seen before. 

"Jack, listen to me. You're right. Okay? You're right. But it's not just—" Trent spoke up but then he paused, glancing at you before continuing. "It's not just fucking. I swear to you, mate. It's not like that." Jack's face twisted in disbelief but he stayed locked on you. You were the weaker link, he knew what buttons to push.

"What are you even doing, Y/N? Huh? With him of all people? You’re fucking my best mate like… like what are you doing? You’re slutting yourself out because what…? He’s a footballer?” Jack yelled at you, his thoughts starting to get a little tangled his cadane more stuttered but the offense still there. .

"Hey!" Trent cautioned him with a bark, his voice sharp as he stepped between the two of you. "Don't talk to her like that." Jack's eyes narrowed, his fury now directed at Trent. 

"Don't you dare tell me how to talk to my sister. You don't get to protect her now, not after this." Jack always knew Trent was protective of you, but he’d always thought it was more of a brotherly instinct, a result of spending so much time together and growing up around each other. But now, as he looked at the two of you, it all seemed so obvious. He felt naive, like a fool who’d missed all the signs. He could see the way Trent stood close to you, a shield against the world, and it wasn’t just because of friendship. It was love—real, raw, and unmistakable. He was hurt but he was going to let hurt ransack both of you with words dripping with misdirected anger. 

"Jack, please," you whispered, your voice breaking. Your eyes pooling. Jack gave you everything, he did everything for you, you were more than a sister and right now, your pleading eyes couldn't save you. You had driven a knife straight into his heart. He wanted you to live with him so you weren't alone, he included you with his friends to make sure you always fel included. Surrounded by people who loved you and you took it advantage of that... and you took advantage of him- minimizing him to a tool of leverage.

"Don't look at me like that," Jack said, his voice cracking as he pointed a finger at you. "Like some scared little kid who doesn't know what they've done. You knew what you were doing. Both of you did."

"Mate, listen to me," Trent said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension. "I get it. You're angry. You have every right to be. But don't take it out on her. This is on me." Jack shook his head, his jaw clenched as he backed away from you both. “Jack…” Trent cautioned, his voice steady but sharp as he stepped in closer to him begining to try to take a high road and Jack could feel it.

“Nah, don’t get all high and mighty on me,” Jack snapped, jabbing a finger in Trent’s direction. “I’ve seen you with girls. I’ve reaped the benefits of your girls. You’re not going near my fucking sister.”

“Fuck off, mate,” Trent bit back, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t know what’s been going on. You don’t know anything about her and I.” Jack scoffed, his anger only growing. 

“Oh, I don’t know anything? I know enough. I know you’re the same as you’ve always been—charming your way into girl’s beds and throwing them away when you’re done. Not her. Not my sister. I swear—” He tried to keep talking but you couldn't hear this fight go on. The pain was radiating off everyone in the room.

“Seriously, just… can you both shut up and listen?!” you shouted, your voice trembling but firm enough to cut through their argument. You moved toward Trent cautiously but surely, ignoring Jack’s glare and grabbing Trent’s face between your hands. “I love him.” You whispered. Trent’s dark eyes softened instantly, his tension melting as you pressed your nose to his. “I love you,” you repeated, your voice breaking slightly, as the tears officially began to fall. 

“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned into your touch. “I know. I love you so much, baby.” He exhaled deeply, his breath warming your skin as he absorbed your words like they were the air he needed. He let his eyes flutter closed. But the moment of bliss and finality was slashed in half by Jack’s fury. Love wasn’t enough. The betrayal outweighed it all. 

“Oh, bullshit!” Jack exploded, his voice shattering the moment. “You’re sleeping with him because you finally got your chance. Because Trent finally gave you one,” he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. Your hands fell from Trent’s face, and you turned to Jack with tears pooling in your eyes. His words cut deep, and the weight of them was too much to bear. “You’re just another girl to him, Y/N. Just another notch on his belt. Is that what you want? To be another one of his conquests? Another girl who fell for the ‘footie player’ charm?” The words were like a punch to the gut. You felt your heart shatter under the weight of his accusations, the shame and embarrassment washing over you in a tidal wave. He'd never spoken to you like this. You were almost having a hard time standing. Jack flashed a look to Trent, the fire and fury behind his eyes unrelenting. “And you're just saying that to keep her in your bed like every other girl you said that lie to. Be fucking for real right now.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried to hold yourself together, but Jack’s harsh words made it impossible. Trent’s face darkened, his own anger rising as he stepped in front of you, shielding you from Jack’s verbal assault. 

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice low and simmering with fury. “You don’t know what you’re on about, Jack. This isn’t some game, and she’s not just ‘another girl’ to me.” Jack scoffed, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. It wasn't that Jack didn't believe you could be that girl, he just was so hurt that he had been lied to by the closest people to him but the only way he he could manage it right now was let it come out in the form of anger.

“Right. Because you’re suddenly a saint? Give me a break, Trent. You’ve been with dozens of girls. Why should I believe this is any different?” You stepped further away from Trent with pooling eyes. 

“Because it is different,” Trent shot back, his voice firm. “She’s different. You’re my best friend, Jack, but you don’t get to speak to her like that. Talk shit about me, whatever mate, I’ll firm it. But you don’t get to reduce her to some cheap fling just because you’re angry.” Jack’s eyes blazed with anger, his hands balling into fists at his sides. How were you, his little sister, suddenly Trent’s— no longer his. It stung. Before you could even process either’s words, Jack groaned loudly, his frustration boiling over about Trent speaking about you.

“Give it a fucking rest. This is such bullshit,” he spat, his voice thick with disbelief and anger but most of all hurt. But he wouldn’t let that side come forth, all his energy was being channeled into tearing what you thought you had a part. “Trent, you say you love every girl to keep them around until you’re done with them. You don’t mean it.” His accusation sliced through the air like a knife, and you felt your heart shatter under the weight of his words. The possibility of Trent’s love being a lie, just another line, sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over you. Everyone in the room’s heart aching and shattered. Your lip quivered, and you could feel your knees weaken as your emotions swirled into a storm of confusion and hurt. You stepped further away from Trent once more needing distance from the conflicting emotions and the two men who had been so central to your life. You looked between them, your eyes darting from Trent’s conflicted gaze to Jack’s furious one, the betrayal stinging more than anything else. “And you, god fucking damnit Y/N,” he turned to you, his voice breaking, “I thought you were smarter than this. I thought you had more self-respect than to throw yourself at him just because what? He paid attention to you?” The accusation hit you like a sledgehammer. It arguably was the worse one. Belittling you to a slut who was desperate for any attention you could find, that was merely a fling to Trent, he couldn't love. You couldn’t stop the sob that tore from your throat, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Jack’s words felt like they were tearing you apart from the inside out, exposing every fear and insecurity you’d ever had.  Jack momentarily regretting his words seeing you begin to fall into hysterics. His hurt was simply coming out in the form of verbal attacks. He didn't believe any of those things but he didn't have a clear enough mind to be rational, to listen, to be kind. Trent’s jaw clenched, his patience snapping as he stepped closer to Jack, his eyes blazing with a protective rage. 

“Jack! Enough, bro! Don’t you dare talk to her like that. You’re her brother and you’re way out of line. I’ve never treated her like anything less than she deserves, and you know that.” Jack shook his head, his face twisted with hurt and betrayal. ButJack's words were seeds begining to plant in your brain and grow rapidly. What if this was all true. We're you just an easy target for Trent, did he just tell you he loved you because it could be used as a tactic. We're you merely a convenience? Because treating how you deserved... surely wasn't hiding you and his feelings for you. You couldn't think straight let alone regulate your breathing. Trent reached out to grab your arm, but you pulled away, tears now streaming down your cheeks.

“Fuck you both,” you whimpered, your voice cracking under the strain of your emotions. With that, unable to take it anymore, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the house, the sound of the door slamming behind you echoing in the silence that followed. Outside, the cool morning air hit your face, mingling with the hot tears that continued to fall. Your mind was racing, your heart aching with every step you took away from them. The pain was almost unbearable, caught between love and betrayal, and you didn’t know where to go or what to do. All you knew was that you needed to get away, to find space to breathe, to think, and to try and piece together the shattered remains of your trust and your heart. It was all too much. The crescendo was worse than you could’ve ever imagined. Tempers had flared and each relationship had been left in tatters. 

•

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

Next part - Chapter 16 - For Years xx

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

why does it comfort some people or bring them joy/excitement to imagine their favorite characters in terrible situations and being hurt physically or mentally? wouldn’t you want your favorite characters to be happy and safe?

I’m sure I’ve seen this exact ask being sent to another writing blog before, so seeing one in my own inbox was a little surprising. but anyway, I’ve said this before, but I don’t mind saying it again because lots of people seem to still be confused about this; the enjoyment of imagining or seeing fictional characters in terrible situations in which they are hurt and/or scared is called whump. people who enjoy whump tend to express their interest through art, such as drawings, writings, etc. whump has a community on several online platforms, as well as here on Tumblr. we are simply known as “whump community”.

moving on to your question, “why does it comfort us to imagine our favorite characters in agony?” — there is no definitive answer to the question, because different people enjoy whump for various, different reasons, and all of these reasons are valid. however, what I can give you is some examples of the reasons why people enjoy whump

reasons why people like whump:

some people use whump as a reflection of what they’ve been through, and they let their trauma out by channeling the trauma through fictional characters. to make it as simple as I can, some people use whump as a coping mechanism to help them heal from any traumatic events in their lives.

while whump is indeed about pain, it can also be about the comfort (the healing process) that comes after the pain. I personally known several people who heal by writing whump stories in which their favorite characters went through and survived terrible things that happened to them. the comfort part of the whump was used as a symbol of hope for these people, in the sense that they hold on to the idea that if these fictional characters can survive horrible things that happened to them, they (the writers) can survive and heal too.

some people use whump as a way to let out their frustration, trauma or pain. an abuse victim may fantasize about hurting their abuser back by creating a fantasy world in which their favorite character was hurt, but later healed and/or get their revenge.

it’s also worth mentioning that one doesn’t have go through their own trauma in order to be able to enjoy whump. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they just Want to Hurt These Little Guys. 

some people like whump where their favorite character is hurt because they like the part where their favorite character gets comforted and is nursed back to health after they are rescued.

whump that’s followed by comfort (whump with a happy ending) is valid.

whump that has no comfort (whump without a happy ending) is also valid.

because whump is a genre, just like how lots of people like horror movies just for the sake of liking them. 

the term whumperflies is used to describe the euphoric feeling a person experiences while watching, drawing, writing or reading a whump scenario that hits right in the feels. for lack of better comparison, some people experience whumperflies that come close to an orgasm, whether or not whump is a sexual thing to them (some may enjoy whump as a form of kink, while some may enjoy whump for reasons that aren’t sexual at all). for some, whumperflies are these tingling sensation in the chest and/or the stomach, for someone else, whumperflies is like when you ride a rollercoaster and the ride is going down from its highest stop. there's no wrong way to experience whumperflies, as different people describe and experience them differently.

so, yes, some people may enjoy whump just for the euphoria whumperflies bring. and some people — myself included — can’t get whumperflies unless the character that’s going through pain is their most favorite character; it’s like… because you love this character so much, you’re so connected to them, you're so emotionally invested in them that you can only get whumperflies if it’s them going through the torture, meanwhile other characters just don’t make you feel half as strongly.

and that’s explain why people in the whump community prefer their favorite characters to be the ones going through hell.

and again, just like how movies have different genres, whump is a genre — people who like whump aren’t “freaks” or “red flags” in real life, even if they like whump for reasons that aren’t about coping mechanism. whump is a genre and a form of art, and most importantly, whump is fiction. it’s not real.

I do understand why people who aren’t into whump tend to be confused by the concept of whump, and I do understand why these people think being a fan of a fictional character only means wanting said fictional character to be safe and happy, which is why whump is not for everybody, and that’s okay too.

the thing is there is no wrong way to be a fan of something that’s fictional, you can like this fictional character so much you want to see them cry and covered in blood for whatever reasons, and that’s okay. as long as you’re not hurting anybody in real life.

there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who enjoy whump, just like how there’s nothing wrong or abnormal about people who like horror movies. it’s fiction and it’s a form of art. and I believe everybody is allowed to express and enjoy their interests through art in whichever way they want, as long as they’re not harming anybody in real life.

[iloveoldermen-posts]

Pen-pals

Warnings: only the hapter to start things going and to set the vibe, part one of at least 10, i have not proof read ୨୧

Chapter 1 – Greetings.

He was forced into it, no way in hell would he ever do it on his own. But his also forced councillor thought it would help him to have connections to the outside world and ensured him that if it didn’t work out within two months, he could stop trying and never do it again. But he couldn’t tell her that or it would be ‘cheating.’

Which would probably deter people but as a chronic people-pleaser, I just couldn’t let that run. So, I tried my absolute hardest to fill my letters with copious amounts of joy so that there’s no way he couldn’t write back.

January 13th

--

Dear ‘Ghost’,

I was only told your call-sign to ensure maximum confidentiality – rules right. They told me that you were the only one who could tell me your real name so if you ever feel comfortable enough, I will happily learn all about you!

Here is some information about me; my name is Y/N, I am always helping people out for work (quite interesting if I do say so myself), I love to bake in my free time and my favourite time of the year is autumn (I just LOVE the mix of weather).

I always add some questions to these letters.

Why is your call-sign Ghost?

What’s your favourite thing to do when you aren’t deployed?

And finally, a simple one – what’s your favourite colour?

From,

       Y/N.

P.S I was told you would probably take around a week – two to respond so don’t feel rushed to write back, I know how taxing your job tends to be :)

January 29th

--

Dear Ghost,     

I hope you are doing well, I’m not sure if you received the letter I sent as you haven’t replied so I’m trying again just to make sure. My name is Y/N and I have a black Labrador that I love so much. 

I have a hectic work schedule and I am always flying all over the world to help people. So I won’t always be able to write to you consistently. I hope that’s okay!

Instead of questions, I thought I would tell a little joke;

What do you call a shipment full of military-issued T-Rexes?  SMALL ARMS. 

:) hope you enjoyed that one because there are way more to come.

From

 Y/N.

February 13th

--

Dear ‘Ghost’,

This will be the last letter I am writing to you as I believe someone could get through to you, it just won’t be me. So, I have requested to be swapped buddies. 

I think it might be someone who’s in your unit, I think his name is John or Johnny – something like that. And I’m told I will be a better suit to them and their personalities.

So I hope you stay safe and are able to speak with someone who you can let your guard down too; even though they will never be as funny as me. Teehee :)

From

Y/N.

I’m quite sad that it didn’t work out as I thought we could have both benefited from it, but you know what they say – it is what it is. And at the end of the day, he needs someone he can truly feel comfortable talking to and I never did get to know him so it doesn’t affect me much in those terms. Even if a month was wasted by waiting for a never-to-arrive letter. Well the true term would be never-to-be-write-or-sent but we digress.

The birds hum a beautiful harmony as I post the final letter through the poorly painted post-box on the end of my road. As I turn to leave, the clouds above me start weeping uncontrollably at my departure.

I’ve never been one for signs but that can’t have been a coincidence.

My asks are currently open so get the requests in, and check out my masterlist.

They first two chapters will be mostly letters and then will move to texts and irl interactions - at least I plan...

[laiiaaa]

in need of more dad!carmy cause oml

him walkin in on the girls doing something they're not supposed to be doin :0 but ofc he can't manage to stay upset at them for long

He’s got the biggest soft spot in the world for his girls and he really can’t help it, especially when they’re young. They’re always up to something, usually because Rory’s a little shit (she takes after you) and Jack’s just trying to copy after her big sister.

You’re fast asleep one night when he’s wide awake. Just nerves, kinks in the road with The Bear, thoughts of Mikey’s birthday approaching, anxiety bubbling up that he doesn’t want to worry you with. So he heads downstairs to sit outside and clear his head with some fresh air—

Only to find Rory and Jack in the living room, on the floor, your sneaky bag of candy—the one reserved for you, that you pick at once the girls are off to bed and you’re cozied up on the couch with Carmen, chatting about your days between sweets—dispersed on the floor.

They don’t even notice his presence till he speaks up:

“What’s goin’ on here?”

They both look up, entirely spooked at their dad standing feet away.

“You two should be in bed.”

“But Dad,” Rory whines, “We don’t even have school tomorrow.” She puts on that pout she knows will have him cooing at her, and Jack follows right behind. “We were just looking, I promise.”

“Just lookin’, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“You know that’s your mother’s, right? That’s her candy you’re stealin’?”

Jack frowns, puts her big brown doe eyes to work. “Mommy lets us have some all the time.”

“Don’t lie t’me, Jacqueline.” One hand of his rests at his hip, the other swiping at his mouth as he fidgets. “You lyin’ t’me?”

He looks back and forth between his girls—his babies, really, because even though they’ve grown out of diapers and go to school on the weekdays, he still can’t fathom them as anything but his baby girls. So small, and so adorable, with tiny pouts and tiny hands and tiny giggles. They’re just so sweet.

“Not lyin’, Daddy.”

“She’s not,” Rory agrees. “Promise.”

He must be going soft. If Richie knew, he’d never hear the end of it, what with his heart going to mush at his girls, how he sees you in them both, how just a simple and meek little promise has his irritation going smooth and his lungs letting out a sigh before he cleans them up and carries them to bed—after they get one more piece of candy, of course, because who is he to deny them a little joy?

Carmen tells you the short of it by morning, limbs tangled together.

“You’re too easy on ‘em,” you giggle, “Such a softie. And they know it.”

“I’m not, y’know, soft, I’m just—”

“Bear, you let them get away with everything—”

“No I don’t—”

“If you say so,” you tease, letting the matter settle with your lips pressed sweetly against his, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you just a little closer. “It’s gonna come back ‘n bite you, though.”

“I’ll be alright, baby.” Another gentle trail of kisses, along your jaw, down to your neck, fading away at your collarbone. He’d kiss you all day if you’d let him.

“Hm.” Your nails scratch gently along his back, and you press your fingertips into the tender muscles of his back as he buries himself into your neck. “Are you making waffles today?”

A muffled groan escapes him, and he peeks up at you. “Thought you said you were doin’ breakfast today?”

You pout, and it looks awfully familiar to him. “Next weekend?”

“Next weekend, huh?”

“Promise.”

And oh, how the irony dawns on him, and oh, how little he cares. But why would he? How could he say no to you, or the girls you’ve brought into his life, when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—when you love him like you do?

With a brief stretch and a deepened kiss with your hands in his hair, he lifts himself out of bed as you trail close behind, your touch a comfort unlike anything else. And when you shimmy into your seat at the counter, laughing with him over your cup of coffee, watching sweetly as he prepares breakfast before the girls scurry into the kitchen, he knows:

He wouldn’t change a thing.

[ledesaid]

A family wish ⚡⚡

A Halloween wish is something that only certain magical beings know how to harness and conjure… Here we have Billy Batson, for example, standing in the middle of the Salem woods with a cloak that hides him from the curious eye of other beings. He's excited because today is the day, and he doesn't want to waste his time while stitching with spider silk everything that's in his Superman lunchbox. It's his fourth Halloween party, but it's the first one he truly feels he's enjoying. It's like Christmas! But Billy thinks it's a hundred times better because of what he's going to get. That's why he has been diligently collecting everything necessary… and he's had an audience on several occasions:

—Excuse me, sir, I'm just going to take a bit of your hair… or your cape?—

Immediately, Captain Marvel seems to debate whether to use his blunt scissors on the hair or cape. He gets a piece of cape from one of his current villains. Don't let his slender appearance or clever words fool you because he's determined. The toad heads and Gorgon eyes in his magical bag confirm it. And let's not talk about his recently added occultist cape, it's the most normal thing he has so far and really shouldn't be the case.

Can someone please tell Billy that he shouldn't collect DNA or cut clothes from every magical entity he encounters?!

Oh, and no one in the League dares to get involved in the Captain's magical mysteries. Flash is still confused by his last explanation of Groundhog Day and his collection of hair from… better not know, Flash didn't want to know. But now he does. The League is worried because they heard the captain politely asking for a piece of hair from Zatanna and playing poker with Constantine until he won. The Englishman argued with the captain to find out what he was up to, but…

—I already have the flesh, I just need something cursed to finish… Your blood would be very useful!—

Constantine feels highly offended, yes he does, but the term flattered doesn't quite fit in his head, and let's not talk about "the flesh". He just wants to go home and it doesn't seem like Captain Marvel is going to give in.

—It's cursed, but it's not mine, have fun!—

He gives Billy a bottle of wine and ends the discussion. Captain Marvel jumps and celebrates like a child when he smells the bottle's contents, undoubtedly very cursed. This last event brings us back to Billy in the middle of the Salem graves, pouring the blood wine onto the tangled hair and fabric that has taken a feline shape.

—Come to me!— he yells energetically. —I order you!— His fingers sparkle with tiny lightning bolts.

His little altar sparkled among the flames of the candles.

—Live!— The lightning bolts increase and Billy takes the tangle of hair in his hands.

The small ball of fur quickly writhes in his grip and begins to transform into something more than it originally was.

—Wake up, Tawny!—

And that's it, a baby tiger gives its first roar, more of a meow, but Billy hugs it with joy.

—Yes! It's alive! It's alive!— exclaims Billy, recalling Dr. Frankenstein's words.

With all the joy in the world, an eleven-year-old boy celebrates having created his first familiar. On November first, the Captain takes his little friend to the Watchtower.

—Guys, look what I did last night! Isn't it cute? Look, Zatanna, its little black stripes are as beautiful as your hair!—

[ogfangirl]

DANIEL RICCIARDO BROKE THE INTERNET

authors note: this is my first piece of writing for Daniel Ricciardo and for F1. I’ve been obsessed with Danny lately and it randomly came to me late last night so bare with me 🥹 with Danny coming back this weekend it brought a lot of emotions happy ! I just want him racing so bad. This is fluffy and cute, and exactly how I imagine he’d be as a dad 🫶🏼

Pairing: Dad!Daniel Ricciardo x Wife!reader

Instagram AU & behind the scenes of the post

Summary: Daniel has been quite busy in 2023, but not behind the wheel of an F1 car.

Enjoy!

Liked by f1, landonorris, redbullracing and 1,991,562 others

danielricciardo I’ve been kept pretty busy these last three months 💙 @.yourinstagram

view all 671,345 comments

yourinstagram we love you papa 🧸💙

- liked by danielricciardo

user7 whAT?!?!? WHAT IS HAPPENING

redbullracing a future Red Bull world champ 🏆

- liked by danielricciardo and yourinstagram

dannyshoney OMG THIS IS AMAZING!

landonorris can’t wait to meet the little man

- liked by danielricciardo and yourinstagram

maxverstappen1 my nephew !

- liked by danielricciardo and yourinstagram

Daniel Ricciardo broke the internet.

Let’s recap:

Almost a year ago, you found out you were expecting your first child with your husband, Daniel. You were thrilled, and you knew you had to come up with a way to surprise him. You got a onesie with his logo on it, a card with the words "and soon there will be 3" as a reference to your growing family AND his racing number 3, as well as the three pregnancy tests you took, and you placed them into a little gift box. On a boat day out in Monaco, you handed him the gift box, but not before you took your phone out and pressed record. He was confused as to why you were recording him, but he opened the box anyway. His face was priceless. He was ecstatic. It was a dream come true.

Since this was your first pregnancy, you wanted to keep it a secret for as long as possible. You felt as though it was more special that way. His life was already so public, and yours was too as a result of being his wife. The two of you agreed to keep your pregnancy between your closest friends and family. But it didn’t take long before Daniel came home looking all guilty, and when you asked him what happened, he told you that everyone at the paddock knew he was going to be a dad. When you asked him how they knew, he sheepishly reminded you of his excitement and that you know how much he likes to talk. You forgave him, of course, because the paddock was like his second home. That was his family, too.

 You didn’t get mad or upset. You knew your husband. Daniel is known to ramble, and he just couldn’t contain himself, but who could blame him? It was an exciting chapter in his life. one that came at a rough time, when he didn’t know what his future in Formula One would look like. Obviously, McLaren wasn't working out, and he didn’t know where else he would end up. But what mattered to him most was that his baby was coming.

 It didn’t take long to find out the gender. He paid for the early test. He was too anxious to wait. The gender reveal was an intimate get-together with only a few family members and friends. As soon as the black balloon exploded and the blue confetti hit the floor, Daniel picked you up and spun you around in joy. "We’re having a boy!" He exclaimed with a huge smile on his face. His very own baby boy He already had a little boy in his life, his nephew, whom he watched grow up, and he couldn’t imagine loving someone more than he loves him. But he was excited to experience this new space of love, one he could only share with a son. He also fell even deeper in love with you after seeing you grow a life inside your body.

 Keeping your pregnancy a secret in the beginning was a breeze. At first, there were no signs of a bump; you could get away with wearing any outfit. The second trimester came around, and you had to pull out all the flowy dresses and tops. Daniel watched you in awe as you performed daily tasks, but with a growing belly. He noticed your glow becoming brighter and brighter every day. He loved parading down the paddock with you while everyone congratulated you on the baby.

Throughout the season, you traveled to as many races as possible while you could still hide the bump, but it soon became too difficult. Especially since Daniel was the star of Drive to survive, and there was always a camera in his face. He had asked the producers to try and keep you out of the footage, but it was hard considering he wouldn’t leave your side unless he was in the car. The more your belly grew, the fewer races you attended. Ultimately, with your energy levels plummeting and your bump being extremely noticeable, you decided that it was finally time to stay home. Daniel missed having you at races, and you definitely felt weird having to watch them from home after being used to the hustle and bustle for years.

 Daniel became less and less excited for race weekends as the season went on. One because, frankly, his car sucked, and two because you weren’t there with him. His favorite activity soon became taking the long haul flights back home, because he knew you’d be there waiting for him. Every time he’d arrive home, it was like his world was complete again. You’d be there waiting for him with a smile and your big ol’ growing belly. He didn’t know how to describe how intense his love and admiration for you had gotten. But he sure knew how to show it. Daniel showered you in hugs, kisses, massages, flowers, chocolate, gifts, love, but most importantly, reassurance. The pregnancy itself was fairly easy, but the part you were scared of the most was how his busy lifestyle would impact how much time he’d spend with you and the baby. So he did exactly what he knew you wanted but didn’t have the heart to ask for.

With the 2022 F1 season coming to an end, Daniel decided that it was the perfect opportunity to take time away from the sport so that he could spend time with his wife and his son, who could arrive at any time. He agreed to become a third driver for Red Bull, counting on the fact that they wouldn’t need him for a few weeks. He never gave the media much of an explanation as to why he decided to take a third driver position; all he said was that he needed time to himself. Some fans understood, and some didn’t, but it didn’t matter. He knew he had made the right decision.

 His little boy, Luca Gabriel Ricciardo, was born on January 5, 2023. The day both your lives changed, but for the better.

 You love watching him be a dad. He did it so effortlessly. He was eager to do night feeds and didn’t even mind staying up with the baby at night. He loved doing skin-to-skin, and was a pro at diaper changes. He wanted to be all hands on deck. The two of you would take long walks on the farm with Luca, and occasionally you would have picnics in the garden. That was what he cherished the most. When it was just you three. The family he built with the woman he loves

 The months flew by, and next thing he knew, the Australian Grand Prix was coming up. He couldn’t hide anymore. His life was perfect, but he knew he had to go back to work. That’s his home race, and there isn’t an Australian Grand Prix without F1’s favorite Aussie.

 Race week was the first time since Luca was born that Daniel spent time away from home. It felt weird for both you and him. In the 8 days that he was gone, there were approximately 52 FaceTime calls, 37 phone calls, and 12 pictures of Luca sent to him. He missed his son, and even though he was away, he still wanted to be a full participant in his soon-to-be 3-month-old's daily activities, which didn’t include much but eating, sleeping, and pooping, but you appreciated it.

 Word travels fast in F1, and everyone was excited for Daniel’s return. As predicted, Daniel was asked a million times what he did to keep busy during the past three months. He would chuckle to himself and keep giving vague answers like, "I was working on myself."

 But enough was enough.

 With the Australian Grand Prix behind us, on Monday afternoon he arrived at home and immediately made his way towards you and his baby boy. After planting a kiss on your lips and one on his baby’s head, he looked down at you with a smile. You looked at him, almost afraid of what his mind had come up with. "How do you feel about finally presenting Luca to the world?" He asked. It caught you off guard, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about it.

 "I think I’m ready if you are," you smiled back.

 And that was all he needed to hear. He was finally going to show the world his biggest accomplishment: his family.

 Daniel had taken a photo of you with Luca while you guys took a trip to the beach when he was about two months old. He loved the photo, and immediately knew that it was the photo he was going to use to announce his boy. Daniel had the post saved in his drafts for about two weeks. He was waiting for the perfect time, but after getting back to work, he knew that there was no better time. Everyone still had lots of questions, and he knew that the answers he gave didn’t actually give them any insight into what his days off looked like. But he could paint a perfect picture with one post. So on Monday, April 3, 2023, he introduced the world to his boy.

 It didn’t take long before his comment section became flooded with support, surprised comments and overall excitement. Both of your phones began blowing up, and you two couldn’t contain your smile. You opened Twitter and saw people were already talking about it all over your timeline. Your family and friends left cute comments on his post, and you took the time to reply and like all of their comments. It meant a lot for the both of you that you had such a strong support system behind your family. Your boy was so loved, and he didn’t even know it yet.

Following Daniel’s Instagram post, you decided to share an announcement of your own.

@.yourinstagram posted on their story

[kanmom51]

JK's birthday 2019

Let's talk about JK's birthday in 2019.

I know it's a long time ago, but I got to thinking about it again and it just filled me with joy. And who am I to deprive you guys of some delusional joy as well? Right?

So, I think I am actually going to start from the end on this one.

JM flying half way across the world, from Paris...

to be with JK on his birthday only to have to fly out the next morning to Hawaii with Sungwoon.

And he does this all by surprising JK, who was not expecting him to be there with him, as he knew JM was in Paris, sly JM even sending him a kind of generic happy birthday message from Paris. You know, making sure JK KNOWS that he is still there on the streets of Paris all while JM was already on his way to be with him.

JM loved to tell us all about it in his Riad live (you know, the one he also told us how happy he was with the surprise birthday celebration JK arranged for him during their concert there, oh and the same one we got him eying his "manager").

There is a link to the live itself in my post as well.

And here you will find screenshots of JM telling the story:

He was so damn proud of himself.

And rightfully so.

He made JK's day.

Brought him this very special gift too:

Yeah, let's hear how this wasn't planned why don't we?

Anyways...

Moving on.

Or perhaps moving back would be the proper way of putting it.

All of this happened on JK's birthday itself at night time (JM tells us he arrived back in SK 8-9 pm). But see, JK started off his birthday for us.

Wait. Was it for us? Or more so, was it only for us? Or was it perhaps also meant for that one person that wasn't there on that day. The one person that was in Paris, and whom JK believed was not going to be spending his birthday with him. The one person that flew half way across the world to surprise JK, and he sure did.

I know at this point I could be considered to be reaching a little bit, but hear me out here. Yes, JK was sending Army a message (well a few of them as you will see), but I do think that within those messages (this is something that those two are so good at), he was also sending another message, and it wasn't just for us. Although you could argue that in a sense it was also for us (letting us know who was on his mind at that point in time).

So here we go.

JK posts on Weverse on the eve of his birthday. This is just after midnight, specifically at 00:22 or 12:22 am KST.

This one is clearly for Army (not the one who declares himself to be Army).

Following that, JK moves on to Twitter, where he tweets twice exactly 40 minutes later. 2 tweets, one minute apart from each other.

First tweet at 1:03 am SKT:

Let's look at the numbers first before we move on to bigger and better things.

1:03 am 1.9

Just looking at those numbers we can get:

13-10 (1+9)

If we look at the date as 1.9.19 then we have the 13-10 and 1-9 as well. Go figure.

On purpose?

Who knows... maybe if we look into it a little further we will have more facts that can show us either way.

The caption on JK's first tweet.

Could definitley be meant, once again, for us. Even though he already thanks us for making him happy. But what if this time it wasn't meant specifically for us. I mean, he already thanked us in a long message only 40 minutes earlier. What if the earlier one was for us, and this one here, with the timing of the posting, was meant for a special someone else, who happened to be far away from him.

Perhaps his choice to split his posts, his thanks, was because they were meant for 2 different recipients? Perhaps, this was just like him splitting up his White day live in 2023 into 4 segments. Each one of those segments with a clear purpose and you could also say a specific audience (at least for one of those 4 the intended audience was not us).

Yeah, I know, call me deluded. Call me crazy and call me whatever, but you know, I really don't think it's that far fetched.

And even more so when within a minute he tweets again. This time he uploads his gift - a snippet of his song Decalcomania.

Captioned: "This... Please look forward to it".

{Side note, we still are even though we will never get the full song seeing that he had deleted it.}

Are you seeing what I'm seeing here?

Like seriously, how can we miss this? And nope, you can't make up this shit either.

Time stamp on clip:

1: 18 min.

The song is clearly cut off at that time stamp.

This is not a coincidence. Seriously, enough is enough with that excuse. The recurring use of these numbers. 118, Nov 8, again and again and again. Before and after.

This is a clear message JK is sending again

and again

and again

and again

And lest forget a couple of his latest 8:11's

and

And here we have JK, on his birthday, following his tweet only one minute earlier thanking "you" for making him happy. Who he means by "you", well that I'm sure many will assume is his fans. At this point, seeing what came before and definitely what came after, I am easily convinced that it wasn't necessarily that "you", but the "you" that was about to surprise the shit out of him later that day.

So yeah, I'm finding it hard to conclude this is all a coincidence, seeing JM himself told us it's not...

As for Decalcomania. Well, that one requires a post all of it's own.

One more thing before I go.

JK's 2019 birthday was a big one. It happened when the band were on break. When JM was using this time to travel with friends (not that they didn't spend time together, JK basically tells us that in BV4). A time with a couple of yucky dating rumors. A time of self reflection. This was a break where JK had his hand tattoos done, and surprisingly (NOT) added that very 'inconspicuous' J just above the M after his birthday.

So yeah, this here my friends, is a hill, or even more so a mountain, that I am climbing up and are pretty confidently willing to die on...

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 10

I can't believe this is my last one of these 😭

I've loved watching and writing about this show so much. I was always going to enjoy it because of the FortPeat of it all but I never thought I'd have so much to say about it or that I'd end up writing about it weekly. The only other shows I've written about to such an extent are Two Worlds and Dead Friend Forever.

I've only had this blog for a little over a year and a half and it's only in the past six months that I've been actively talking on it and making friends on here. I really want to thank all of you who take the time to read my posts and indulge my clown behavior and leave your thoughts and kind words in the tags. It means a lot 💜

Okay let's talk about microexpressions before I start crying in the club. Again.

We start off with Tongrak about to go have lunch with his mama after not seeing her for years. Mahasamut is lovely and encouraging because of course he is, he's my Memo Ochoa, but this face when Rak mentions wanting him to come along next time...

It's not that Mut doesn't want to. He does. It's just that he's very aware that it's not up to him.

And Rak doesn't quite get what he means because he's been trying very hard this whole time to not see this situationship for what it is.

His smile doesn't quite fall but it does flicker for a second and there's the smallest tilt of his head. Didn't he just ask Mut to come along? Then why is Mut telling him that it's up to him whether that meal with mama ever happens?

You can't pretend that elephant ain't there forever, Khun Tongrak.

And Mahasamut can't either.

"See the missing heart?"

It was at that moment that Tongrak understood what Mut was doing in giving him that bracelet.

And there was no joy at the realization. Only fear, dread, and panic. He doesn't allow Mut to get out the 'I love you'. He begs him not to sat it because simply knowing that it's coming terrifies him.

Tongrak tries to run away and draw up another agreement in a useless last-ditch effort to avoid Mut's feelings, but Mut doesn't allow that. We're at the end of the rope. We're at the edge of the cliff. The camel's back is one straw away. He loves Rak and he wants and needs to tell Rak. And he does.

But Tongrak is afraid of that love. He doesn't want it, and it breaks Mut's heart.

So Mut makes one last effort to make Tongrak understand that what he wants isn't Rak's money, but him and that terrifies Rak MORE because that money was another brick in the wall he'd built to protect his heart and now Mut is giving it all back and the integrity of that wall is weakening.

He isn't prepared to be without the wall so he rejects Mut and in doing so, chooses to be without him instead.

And here is where I grumble again about wanting to talk about a scene more and having to cut myself off for photo limit reasons.

When Mahasamut goes to say goodbye to Vivi and Mook and ask them to take care of Tongrak, Mook is the only one who's surprised. Vivi isn't. Hell, she doesn't say a word the whole scene and she doesn't have to. Look at her face. She understands why things are happening this way because she understands Rak and was coming to understand Mut. She knew something had to give.

Mook asks Mut if he's sure and wants him to reconsider but Vivi knows that he's here because he is and he has. Mook wonders what will become of Rak without Mut but Vivi (and we) know what it isn't just about Rak. Mut deserves to be loved and cared for the same way he does for others and has emotional needs just like anyone else and that's why he has to go home.

Mahasamut made sure to keep his promise of sweets in exchange for a good report card to Meena before he left and he almost made it home without breaking down but hearing Meena and her mom talk about what the number 8 means to Tongrak and the dawning realization of why Tongrak gave him an 8 that random night in bed is just too much.

It's all too much because at its core the reason Mut and Rak can't be together at this moment isn't a lack of love. The love is there but it's being smothered beneath the weight of Rak's fear.

Oh and hearing Mut's hitched sob after Meena asks him if he's okay?That absolutely did me the fuck in I'm never recovering fuck you Fort and also well done go sit at Chris Chiu's table.

I'd like to take a break from all this pain to complain that Mook didn't get to wear glasses for the whole show because look how cute my girly looks in them.

And the two flavors of concern she and Vivi have for Tongrak who is doing about as well as expected.

Sidenote: Khun Tongrak I'm never going to get over you leaving Mut's bracelet in the trash can for a week.

Her mess of a love life aside, Vivi is such a good friend. If I hadn't been so busy being sad in the moment I would've caught this face and realized the bracelet was safe.

As devastating as it was to see both Mahasamut and Tongrak have their individual moments of realization followed by a public breakdown, they were both important. I daresay they needed to happen because THIS is the true root of the issue.

Tongrak isn't afraid of love and he doesn't actually think it doesn't exist. He knows that it does and he's afraid of what comes with it. He's afraid of what happens when it's gone and the way that it hurts people because that is all he knows, that's the sum total of what all his life experiences have taught him about love.

But because until meeting Mut he never experienced love himself, he never had to confront that fear or fight its hold on him. There was never a reason to. It just kept getting reinforced to him and he fell back on it when he couldn't hide from his or Mut's feelings anymore.

This is what "do it scared" looks like. I'm so proud of my fighter.

And I'm proud of my Memo too for standing on business and not folding the moment Rak appeared even though I know a part of him really wanted to.

Tongrak broke Mahasamut's heart and it's not enough for Rak to appear and ask Mut to put the bracelet on him. That's still him wanting Mut to take the first step and even though we know that it's because Rak doesn't know how to go about this and desperately wants an opening, the first step is one he has to take without any help or prompting. Coming to the island was only half the battle.

And it's BRUTAL to watch because we know that Rak isn't there to hurt Mut and that he wants to reconcile and apologize and tell Mut he loves him but he just CANNOT find the words no matter how hard he tries.

Tongrak is a writer, words are his whole life, but it's like he told Vivi: fiction isn't reality. It is so much harder to say what you want to say when you're doing it for yourself and not for a character on a page.

"Don't make me throw my own heart away."

The lighting and the photo limit are preventing more screenshots of this scene and that is a good thing because just rewatching and seeing the glint of tear tracks on Fort's face is making me cry.

DAMN RIGHT YOU'RE NOT GONNA QUIT THAT'S MY BOY

Tongrak found the words and he found a way to say them and he found a way to make Mahasamut hear them and they're looking at each other with hope and surprise and love and I'm a MESS.

*blubbering* Just look at this adorable little cross-eyed look that makes it seem like Rak is trying to make sure he's not imagining this and all he can say is Mahasamut's name with increasing desperation and and--

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

"Pom rak khun."

"Chan rak nai."

*CRYING IN THE CLUB*

There is not a single expression in this entire television program that means more to me than this one. Not a single fucking one.

This is the face Rak is going to wake up to for the rest of his life, soft sexy morning voice included.

I just want to state for the record that I knew this pouty kitten had bought them a house the second he rushed in all excited with his envelope. I understand this man too well to be surprised by the things he does.

I would also like to point out THAT HE IS IN A TEXTURED PATTERN AND THAT I WAS RIGHT!

There are so many more expressions that I would've loved to include but this was a long episode and the photo limit is a cruel mistress.

This show wasn't perfect but I loved it so much. It helped me process some things, it healed some things, and it gave me Tongrak and Mahasamut whom I love and will miss so dearly.

I had a great time watching with ya'll and writing about it 🥰

*manifests a special episode*