#you really are a main character in your own life huh

[dearmemoirs]

insane how many friends stop speaking with you/forget you once you deactivate all your social media.

[moon7jay]

TEMPTATION (p.js)

best friend!jay x fem!reader

Warnings : non consensual, dubious consent, manipulation, smut, loads of masturbation, jay is a freak, anal sex, obsessive behavior, mentions of violence, Morally gray plot and characters obviously, read at your own risk. Not proofread, there might be some errors.

Wc : 8.6k

a/n : reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated so much, please, please don't hesitate to tell me your thoughts, it makes my entire day<3

Candid.

You were too candid for your own good.

Jay doesn't remember when it started to get this bad. you have always been someone who spoke their mind, but he never expected to be witnessing it first hand, and definitely not like this.

As he watches you deep throat the popsicle, your glossy lips wrapped around it so deliciously,the lustrous sheen reminiscent of morning dew on rose petals; he thinks he's in one of his wet dreams. The gloss you're wearing today is not the same as yesterday; they're both shades of dark red but Jay can tell the difference. How? Don't ask him. It's not like he spent most of his time staring at your lips or anything. He isn’t obsessive (he is). He most definitely doesn't look up the same glosses you wear online, or order them to use them for some ulterior motives. so yeah, don’t ask him why or how he can tell what the raspberry red on your lips tastes like.

Your twinkling eyes meet his, the ice pop coming out of your mouth with a loud squelch, and you smile.

"What do you think?" you ask, and Jay doesn't remember what you're asking, or what you were talking about before that pink popsicle came into the picture.

He stares at you dumbly, eyes transfixed on the allure of your saliva coated lips. Oh, he so badly wants to-

"Jay, are you even listening?" your voice interrupts the not so decent direction his thoughts were headed in.

"Huh?"

"I'm asking you, what do you think about my throat game?" your eyes shine, and Jay gulps.

This. This is exactly what he's been dealing with for the past few months.

You both have been best friends since sophomore year, and he understands that as people get closer, they start sharing all types of thoughts and secrets. Even the most intimate and inappropriate ones. Right?

Wrong.

Because jay doesn't remember sexual questions and indecency being a bonding activity among best friends. Sometimes he wonders, do you even consider him a man? Because what man is immune to these sinful thoughts, no matter how hard he tries? Were you really that unaware of the impact your words have on him or did you do it on purpose?

Jay just wasn't mentally prepared for this phase of your friendship. He blames it on his sex crazed brain.

"It-it's good" he mutters, praying that you don't notice the shakiness in his voice. or the reddening of his ears. or the sweat trickling down his neck. or the way he keeps the cushion tightly situated on his lap. Oh fuck it, there's no way you don't notice.

You giggle. You giggle, and the sound goes straight to his chubbing up cock.

"thought so, I've been practicing you know? Heeseung is so lucky, I don't even have a gag reflex" you excitedly brag about your sexual prowess, and Jay can't feel his legs. In fact, all his focus is zeroed in on one place, just like the blood rushing to his dick.

His fists clench at the familiar name and he grits his teeth to stop the throbbing in his jaw.

If Jay's life was a coming of age comedy, you were definitely the main character, and heeseung; even thinking of his name leaves a bad taste in jongseong's mouth, would be your potential love interest. Matter of fact, he seemed to be everyone's love interest.

Jay tho? He wasn't even a supporting character. You just kept him around.

You had pranced into his life in sophomore year, all wide smiles and bright eyes. When he had moved away from his home for college, he had accepted the fact that he would probably spend all of his college life alone.

Because, one, jongseong was awkward. And two, jongseong was awkward.

His awkwardness stemmed from having two friends for most of his life; they were the only two people he could talk to like a normal human being. So, when he left them behind, he left his ability to make proper conversations with them.

But you didn't need him to talk. Nope. You did all the talking for him.

He'd been minding his business, cramming up the notes for upcoming end sem exams , when the chair beside him had been pulled out and you had plopped on it in all your glory. He remembers that you had smelled like ripe cherries, and it didn't take long for jeongseong to get addicted to that fragrance.

Extrovert adopting an introvert, was the basic description of your friendship with him.

But he doesn't know where his obsession with you fits in the dynamic, doesn't know where his need to inject you in his veins stems from.

"Y-yeah, H-he's so fucking lucky" he admits, eyes shaking. He knows he sounds nervous and distressed, but if you notice, you don't mention it.

He watches as you smile proudly and go back to sucking on the popsicle, without a single care in the world. Your red tongue pokes out to lick along its length, before you start suckling on its tip.

oh, how he wishes he was that godforsaken popsicle.

It happens again on a leisure evening. Jay had rented out the movie you so desperately wanted to see, but somewhere in the middle, you got bored. Honestly,he should’ve sensed it coming; from the weary sighs leaving your lips, to the way you were reclined on the couch, it couldn’t have been more obvious.

"It's so hard being single I swear, my fingers don't do it for me and i am so fucking frustrated right now "

Jay thinks he has developed hearing impairment. If not that, then maybe brain damage, because he's sure he's making this all up in his head somehow. there's no way you're talking to him about masturbation right now. This has to be one of his lucid dreams, there's no way you're that comfortable around him.

oh but you are. Your eyes rest on his, curious, inquisitive, as if waiting for a response. But jongseong has lost his ability to formulate coherent sentences.

"Oh" he blurts.

that's it. That's all that he can come up with.

It's an essential mercy that you don't particularly seem to care for his response, just needing a signal to rant more.

"Yes. oh. and i swear Jay, sometimes I'll try to get my fingers in there, but it's so fucking tight and they only go half way in, it's so frus-"

Jay tunes the rest of the conversation out. His mind latches onto the word "Tight ". His throat becomes parched and his palms sweat profusely where they rest against his thighs. His eyes travel down your body, drinking you in. The moles on your collarbone are so fucking tempting, he wonders if someone has told you this before. The way your skirt pools around your thighs has him gasping for air, too much skin, his palms itch to grope.

He feels like a fucking creep, because the creases on your forehead and the heated movements of your hands as you emphasize your point, makes it clear that you are just rambling.

He's your best friend and you're sharing your issues with him, like normal friends do. except Jay is not normal. At least, not when it comes to you.

He knows that you've not had much experience, knows that you've never even been fucked good, and he can't stop his imagination from running wild as he pictures you under him right now. Right on the couch that you've got your pretty ass seated on.

He wonders what your cute moans sound like, wonders if you're a screamer, or do you like to deep throat on fingers to keep your voice down. Wonders what your face looks like when you're cumming. Wonders if your nails will scratch his back red while he stuffs you full of his cum, or will you beg him to pull out.

he shouldn't be having these thoughts and yet, he just can't help it.

"What about you?" you ask, disrupting his inner monologue.

"Me?" he falters, shifting a little, sneakily adjusting his aching length.

"Yeah, are you getting some? or do you just jerk off like other losers? " There's a teasing glint in your eyes as you ask him the most intimate question one can ask someone.

Jay chokes on his own saliva. Thankfully, before he can muster up the courage to stutter an embarrassing attempt of an answer, your phone rings and you're making your way out of his house. A family emergency, you tell him, and Jay can't even bring himself to ask you about it, his mind too preoccupied with the conversation you both just had.

What would you have said if he had told you about all the girls that he fucks, imagining that they were you? Would you have been disgusted, or would it turn you on?

or about all the nights he spends wanking off to your most innocent pictures on his phone; would you think he's creepy, or would you ask him to show you how?

He can't help slipping his hands inside his pants once you're gone, can't help the pathetic moans that fall from his lips while he imagines how 'tight ' you must be. Fuck. Would you clamp around his throbbing length? would your cute little pussy suck him right in?

His movements get faster, more desperate, palms getting slick with how much precum he's leaking as he jerks himself off to the thoughts of your cunt. He flicks his wrist, the friction of his rough palm against his sensitive dick driving him insane.

He needs it, he needs you.

His grasp on his leaking cock becomes firm; tighter, wetter, softer, your thoughts send him right over the edge just in a few more dreamy strokes. The act of cumming inside his boxers is so fucking filthy, the wet spot forming on the front of his pants being a testament to his perverted desires.

"fuck, fuck baby" he groans, gulping harshly while he comes down from his high, his cum covering his palms and thighs , some of it splattering onto his stomach.

God, if only you could see him right now. If only you knew what a mess you make of him.

You're drunk.

He can see it in the way you're starting to slur your words, the sentences no longer making any sense. Your eyes are glassy and droopy, almost on the verge of passing out. He should stop you. He should snatch the bottle away from your wobbly hands and yet.

He doesn't.

Maybe if he was a better man, he would have, but jay is not that man.

Jay watches you take another swing and anticipation builds up in his chest. You're unaware, blinded to the fact that he came here with a purpose tonight; multiple bottles of rum, the particular brand that gets you groggy in a few sips, the game cards, the setting, everything was planned.

When you told him that your roommate was gone for the night, he saw the perfect opportunity to set his sick scheme into motion. And like the naive little girl that you were, you didn't even question him about his odd idea of getting drunk on a weekday, or why you were the only one getting drunk while his glass sat untouched between you both.

Your head lulls to the side ,and within a few seconds, you plop onto your back, mumbling a few intangible words, spread out on your bed like a fucking feast.

Jay inhales harshly, his tongue flicking out to lick over his dry lips. He looks around frantically, as if someone can see what he's about to do. As if someone can peek into his sick and twisted mind. There's no one here though, and his patience is running thin.

Jay crawls over your limp body, his dark eyes devouring you, memorizing every feature up close. Your hairs are splayed around your head like a halo, some strands falling onto your forehead. your lashes flutter slightly, still in between the phase of being passed out and somewhat awake. Your luscious lips keep mumbling words that he's sure even you don't understand. there's a red flush on the apple of your cheeks, enhancing the contours of your face, and Jay just wants to take a bite.

His hungry eyes travel lower,drinking your beauty in like a famished man, watching in rampant awe at how your chest rises and falls, your tank top giving him an eyeful of your soft cleavage. well damn.

His throat bobs, taking in the way your tank top rides up your stomach, exposing your entire midriff to his lustful eyes. You're so, so innocent like this, so naive. How could you trust him so easily? He was a man, it didn't matter that he was your best friend,he was a man regardless.

you really have zero survival instincts.

But Jay is glad that it's him and not someone else. Jay would never harm you, Jay would never do anything wrong to you. He just wants to love you.

His hand moves instinctively, and he's groping your soft thighs, eyes flickering up instantly to watch you with a bated breath. When you don't show any signs of waking up, his movements get harsher, his hold sliding up,grabbing a handful of your ass. A groan falls from his lips at the feeling of your soft skin against his rough palms, his dick hardening inside his pants. Your shorts are too thin to leave anything to the imagination.

Before he knows, his hands are roaming and exploring your curves freely, caressing every inch of your naked skin that he can find. God you're so soft, so fucking soft. He doesn't overdo it tho, doesn't grab you as harshly as he wants to, aware that he can't leave any marks. He leans down and bites on your lower lip inadvertently, eyes closing in delight when your taste overwhelms his senses. You're sweeter than he imagined, and he automatically presses further into you. He moves his lips, tries to kiss you, but your lack of reciprocation irks him to no end. Fueled by his desperation to taste you, his hand comes up and he's cupping your plushy cheeks, making your mouth pucker up like a fish, the little peek of your red tongue from inside drives him up the fucking wall. Without thinking, he dives in, his tongue meeting yours, licking into your hot mouth messily, slurping in your saliva like a freak.

It's too much, the feeling of your body so close, your taste, the fact that this was wrong on so many levels, it all just added up to his arousal.

He trails his lips downwards,kissing and licking every inch of your tempting flesh.

As if a switch is flipped inside his head, Jay pulls back hurriedly and unzips his pants. his hands shake on the zipper, high from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His dick throbs against his boxers, begging for some sweet relief. His breathing is deep, the fact that he is finally about to act on his perverse fantasies hitting him hard. As he pulls his leaking dick out of the confines of his boxers, shoving them unceremoniously down to his knees, he leans back over your figure again, supporting himself with one palm resting beside your head.

He hisses painfully through his teeth, the feeling of his palm wrapping around his cock being too much.

Jay wants to see your pussy, god, he wants to taste it, he wants to fuck it till you're screaming, but not yet. He knows his limits. He knows that once he gets a peek of the treasure you hide between your legs, he might not be able to stop himself from pounding your limp body into the sheets; and so he controls the itching in his loins, resists the temptation. That can wait for another day. Right now though, he just wants to cum.

He pulls down your tank top impatiently, exposing your bra clad tits to his starving eyes. Lace, of course you wear lace.

"fucking slut" he grunts. Fuck, the way your boobs spill out of the cups, your nipples peeking through the sheer fabric makes his dick twitch. Without further ado, He wraps his palm around himself and starts stroking.

"fuck baby, look at what you do to me" he groans, leaning down to kiss your plump cheek, nuzzling his nose into your warm flesh.

His bottom lips is tucked between his teeth, his grip tightening around his leaking shaft, moving his rough palm up and down languidly. As much as he wants to take his time enjoying your body, he knows he can't take a risk. On top of that, he's too pent up to be able to drag this out, he can already feel the familiar tingling in the pit of his stomach. Too good,everything feels too good.

He whines as his thumb rubs over his engorged tip, the pleasure driving him insane.

"are you tight baby? fuck, I bet you're so fucking tight, would make my dick feel so good won't you?" He gasps into your skin, brows furrowing as his movements become harsher, faster. His abs flex and his hips jerk forward into his tight fist, imagining it's your pussy that he's fucking into.

“god it feels so good to finally fuck my fist” he pants, his warm breath fanning your flushed face.

His thighs tremble and he leans his body into yours, pressing himself flush against your unsuspecting figure. He slots his throbbing cock between your plush thighs and starts humping against you eagerly. He just can't help it. It's all your fucking fault.

"Mhmm, baby, baby, fuck you feel so good" He whimpers, fingers digging into the fat of your waist, nose buried inside the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You smell so fucking intoxicating, and he feels his sanity slipping away. God, how he wishes he could thrust inside of your wet heat right now. How he wishes he could jerk his cock off using your tight little cunt.

Its getting wet and messy, the squelching sounds coming from his cock moving back and forth against your flesh are downright filthy.

A strained moan slips from his throat and the knot in his stomach tightens. He's so fucking close.

Jay gathers a copious amount of saliva in his mouth and spits in his hand, rubbing it all over his dick, lubricating it for more pleasure, flicking his wrist faster.

"wish I was inside you right now, look how hard you make me baby, gonna cum so much f’ you-mhmnp-fuck-fuck" His whines become louder, groans get breathier, indicating the approach of an impending orgasm.

The heat inside his loins becomes unbearable and he needs contact. Direly.

Naked skin, soft flesh rubbing against his sweaty body while he jerks himself off, that’s exactly what he craves. He lets go of his cock momentarily and strips his shirt off, throwing it aimlessly across your room. He pants while he slides your bra down your chest, letting your boobs spill out in the open. The sight so lewd, he could come from this alone.

His pupils dilate, sweat trickling down his neck in effort and desire. he leans forward and presses his nipples against yours, hissing harshly, gasping in pleasure at feeling his naked chest rubbing against yours. Is this what sex with you would feel like? Sweaty bodies rutting against one another, chasing carnal pleasure?

Jay pants, and starts to jerk off furiously, wanking his dick like a mad man, palm moving back and forth while he thrusts his tongue inside your open mouth again. A groan escapes his lips, it really does feel like he is fucking you.

"God I wish you could see me right now baby, using your body for my pleasure, just like it's supposed to be" He grunts into your mouth, coating your lips with his saliva.

His hand picks up speed, he's so fucking close, his hips jerk into his own touch, chasing that friction like an animal in heat.

"God yeah, oh fuck yeah baby, gonna cum so hard for you" He groans, squeezing his eyes shut while he spurts long strings of cum onto your naked skin, hot pants fall from his mouth into yours. He squeezes his dick, tugging at it a few more times, cumming so much that it doesn't seem to stop.

"oh fuckk yeahhh, just like that" he moans, rolling over and falling onto his back beside you, rubbing his dick raw. He pumps himself shallowly, milking himself for all that he's worth, his breathing getting slower, sighs of contentment falling from his lips.

Fuck. That was so good.

He looks over at your mess of a body and quickly gets into action, getting dressed haphazardly and adjusting your clothes while he tries his best to clean every drop of cum from your skin and clothes.

The next morning when you whine about a headache, he pretends to be worried, and when you hiss in pain, telling him that there's a painful redness in your inner thighs, he tells you that it might be from your sheets rubbing against your soft skin, and that you should probably buy new ones.

If his dick twitches as he remembers rutting in between your flesh like an animal in heat, that's between him and God

Jay is thoroughly convinced that he's losing his goddamn mind.

With each passing moment, He can feel himself descending into madness.

Nothing feels good, nothing feels worth it, time thoroughly stops if he's not constantly touching you or moping around you.

After that night, he did not get another opportunity to have you alone, and it was promptly causing havoc in his brain. It was fucking him up from the inside.

He wonders if you notice the lack of proximity between your bodies every time you both hang out together lately. But if you do notice the small lingering touches he leaves on your skin here and there, you don't mention it.

"fuck, j-just shut the fuck up" he growls, pushing the woman's head further into the pillows while he continues to plow her from behind.

Ever since he got a taste of you, Jay has found it harder and harder to find pleasure in anything or anyone else. He fucks and fucks but deep down, he knows that no pussy can ever feel like yours.

The cunt wrapped around him is warm and wet, it feels good, making hot pleasure run across his abdomen, but every time he feels his high approaching, the glaring realization that this isn't you underneath him, hits him hard. Fuck.

Jay grits his teeth and closes his eyes, remembering the taste of your soft lips on his, reminiscing the addicting feel of your nipples pressing into his hard chest; his hips pick up pace. He's fucking the woman underneath him brutally, her screams echo in the entire room, her body flailing to get out of his grasp; but Jay can't seem to stop.

"G-gah God just-take it" He groans, hissing in relief when the knot in his stomach snaps, his hips plowing at an animalistic pace, riding his high against the warm pussy in which he's buried.

"fuck fuck fuck" He chants, sighing in hot pleasure, eventually loosening his grip on the slut's body. As soon as he does tho, she pushes him off of herself, turning to him with tears streaming down her red face.

"You're a fucking animal you know?" She spits, sniffing and sobbing as she limps to her feet, his cum running down one of her legs. She collects her clothes and throws a dirty look over her shoulder towards him before she leaves.

Jay scoffs and runs an exasperated hand over his sweaty face. Refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the room. All that talk and she didn’t even satisfy his dick.

What the fuck is happening to him? This type of aggression isn't typical of him and yet, he can't seem to control his emotions in the heat of the moment.

Before he can get immersed too deep into his self reflection, his phone rings, your face glowing like an angel on his lock screen.

You. The bane of his existence.

His dick twitches as he swipes right.

"Jongieee" you squeal, going on a tangent about your eye contact with heeseung across the hallway. The visible vein in jay's forehead throbs, as if all the blood's being pumped through that one particular artery in order to give him the strength to cope.

He's going to fuck heeseung's pretty face up. The rage that fills him up at the thought of another man touching you is insurmountable. It wasn't always like this. But somewhere in the middle of your budding friendship, the dynamic shifted drastically.

At first it was a stupid crush, he thought he was in love with you. But he isn't so sure now. This isn't love, no. This is beyond love. A vile, dark version of it. This is an obscene obsession. Jay is fucking obsessed with you. The need to attain you weighs heavy on his conscience.

As he hears your voice, he focuses on the sweet melody and drowns out the words. This makes the throbbing in his dick return ten fold.

He wraps a shaky hand around his slick shaft and starts to stroke it. Real nice and slow. Just how he likes it. Just like he knows your small hands will do to him.

He bites on his lower lip to prevent any sounds from escaping, and he continues to jerk off to your voice. The veins running along his cock throb in his tight grip, the swollen tip squirting precum onto his moving palm.

"Hmm yeah? Tell me more" he whispers, hoping that you don't notice how breathy his voice sounds, or how pure lust drips from his panting breaths.

The slick squelchy sounds from his palm moving up and down his leaking length echo loudly in the room. A part of him wishes that you catch him in this filthy act, relishing in the surprised and scandalized gasp that would leave your lips when you realize what he is doing.

Fuck.

His hand picks up pace, his second orgasm getting closer and closer the more that your sweet voice rings in his ears.

"Jay?" you ask, obviously confused as to why he hasn't said a single thing yet.

Jay, on the other hand, mutes his side of the mic and groans loudly.

"fuck yeah baby, say my name" He whimpers, his hips thrusting up into his tight fist.

He's jerking himself furiously now, closer, closer, he can taste the sweet release at the tip of his tongue,

"Yeah, shit y/n, make me fucking cum" his mewl fades into a high pitched moan as he shoots thick strands of cum after cum into his own fist, watching with hooded eyes , how it spurts everywhere, his abs contracting at the immense force.

God you drive him batshit crazy.

He hangs up on you, ignoring your voice calling out to him, not trusting his own voice enough to talk to you like a normal person, right after he wanked off to you like a perverted freak.

He shoots a quick message to you in explanation tho, getting his cum all over his screen in the process.

"can't hear you, network issue I think. Call u later?"

Later when Jay lets the hot water of the shower run all over his spent body, his mind drifts off to you and the events of the last few months.

He needs to fuck this madness out of his system, he decides.

Maybe once he gets his dick inside of you, he might be able to get you out of his mind.

You look beautiful.

You always look beautiful, but something about the way that tight little red dress hugs your curves tonight has every man in the room salivating. You're like a piece of meat that's dangling in front of a pack of hungry wolves. And Jay is sure that he's the hungriest of them all.

When you had called him that afternoon, your voice sweet and pleading, begging him to accompany you to yeonjun's party, he didn't know what it would entail.

"Please, please come with me Jay, you know it's my best chance at getting heeseung to notice me" your words had been whiny, travelling straight between his legs.

He had clenched his jaw and hummed in response, not having it in him to refuse your offer. As much as it enraged him that you would take another man's name when he was right there, he also knew that his time would come.

"I love youuu, you're the best" you had squealed, making his heart do weird flips inside his chest. Yeah, he was the best. And he was going to make sure that you knew it too by the end of the night.

He's sure he's drooling, eyes tethered to the way you grind your hips on the dance floor.

It's sexy, you're so fucking sexy. Your lips are stretched into a small smile, as if you know that all eyes are feasting on you. He loves how you thrive in it, loves how you're eating up all the attention.

What he doesn't appreciate tho, is the sight of heeseung's figure making his way towards you on the dance floor. Jay's body works faster than his brain, his nostrils flaring as he makes his way towards heeseung, red hot rage propelling him forward.

Sweat trickles down the valley of your breasts and the air feels stuffy. You need a drink. Right now.

You're mildly disappointed when you don't find heeseung anywhere in sight, all that show that you put on, and for nothing?

You sigh dramatically and make your way to the kitchen, recognizing jay's hunched over figure in the corner, doing God knows what.

"Jay? " you call out to him. His figure freezes upon hearing your voice, he turns his head to meet your eyes and shoves his hand inside his pocket without a second's delay. His behavior makes you furrow your brows "what?" you ask him incredulously. Why was he behaving like a child who'd been caught sneaking where he shouldn't be sneaking.

He shrugs his shoulders and turns fully to face your approaching form.

Jay knows that he's staring, but he just can't help it. Not tonight.

You pick up the drink from the counter and swirl it, looking around the kitchen, scrunching up your nose adorably at the intense make out session near the sink.

Jay follows your line of vision and almost groans. Did you have any idea, how badly he wanted to recreate that scene with you.

"Where's heeseung?" you question, your curious eyes looking back at him.

Jay hopes you don't notice the way his jaw immediately locks up, his mood dampening at another man’s name. Jay likes you best when you’re calling his name, he decides.

"He left" He quips, reaching for a drink with his free hand that isn't buried inside his pocket in a meticulous manner.

You look at him heatedly, and Jay sighs.

"He left, or you made him?" your voice is angry, irritated when you ask him that, and Jay feels his own anger flare up at your tone.

Not wanting to cause a scene, he grabs your hand and drags you inside the bathroom instead, grateful when you don't resist.

The way you free your wrist from his grasp to create some distance between you two, is what he doesn't like.

"What did you do?" You demand, folding your hands across your chest, pushing your boobs up in the process. Jay's eyes flicker down to your beauties and the heat in his head travels all the way down to his groin. He needs to have you, now.

You watch in horror as Jay retrieves his hand from the pocket of his pants. The cuts and bruises all over his knuckles make you gasp. Your hands fall to your sides and you look up into his eyes disbelievingly.

"I-w-why? Jay? What the fuck is wrong with you?" you ask, disbelief and anger making way for concern.

"You! you are what's fucking wrong with me!" Jay bellows and it makes you flinch, terror filling up your viens , because this isn't your Jay. Your Jay was calm, and so, so quiet.

Raging eyes look into yours as he stalks towards you. You don't see it coming when he cups your cheek in his hands and thrusts his tongue inside your mouth. Your hands come up to bang against his chest but it only propels him to pull you further into his chest. Fuck, it feels so fucking good when you move against him.

You whine while his tongue tastes your hot mouth hungrily, forcing it deep inside the crevices of your cavity.

Mustering up all the strength that's left in your body, you push him away, heaving heavy breaths as he stumbles back by a few steps.

Your watery eyes look at him in horror and disbelief, refusing to believe that your best friend just forced himself upon you.

"You're insane" you whisper, your voice hauntingly quiet.

He pulls your body closer to himself and kisses you again, diving into your taste desperately "for you, so fucking crazy for you" he murmurs between kisses, continuing to make out with you, making a mess at how forcefully he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

You hit against his chest, thrashing your body in his hold. He pulls back a little and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes are crazed as they look into yours. A string of saliva connects your mouth to his famished one.

"Let me fuck you" He pants.

His words hit you like a slap across the face. What the fuck.

Your head feels dizzy, too much was happening for you to process. Using all the force you could, you push him away from you again.

"Stop acting like this jay!" you cry, just wanting your best friend back. But from the looks of it, he's nowhere in sight.

No, no, no. This can't be happening to you

"Come on, you know you want this" Jay hisses, malice dripping from his eyes.

Your lips wobble and you can do nothing but shake your head, it lolls on your neck lifelessly. You want to say something, but words feel foreign, as if not knowing how to bend your tongue to make the syllables sound quite right.

The bathroom is a tight space, not much expanse for you to run or hide. You see the door from your peripheral and it gives you some hope. If you can get the door to open up in time, you can scream. Maybe someone might hear you through the bass boosted music thrumming in the house.

You stumble back a few more steps but before you can stretch your hand towards the bathroom door, he pounces on you, a sharp whoosh leaving your mouth as your back thumps against the wall behind. He buries his nose inside the crook of your neck, gliding it's slope across the expanse of your soft skin, humming in desire.

His hands run all over your body, cupping your boobs through your dress, making you mewl as he twists your nipples painfully.

"it's about time we had sex baby" he whispers in your ear, biting and nibbling on your earlobe sensually.

"J-jay p-please think about this" you plead, your voice small and frightened, tremors covering your entire figure when he starts to unbuckle his jeans impatiently.

"Think? Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how much I've thought about this do you? " His eyes stay on yours, maintaining eye contact while his fingers unzip his pants. Jay had forgone boxers, too impatient to take his time undressing. His sole purpose was to get his dick inside your stomach tonight.

"This is all I've been thinking about for the past year baby, your cute little cunt is all i fucking think about" He grits.

His dick plops out of his pants, hitting his abdomen, smearing a blob of precum on his happy trail. Your eyes widen and water further, little sobs start to wrack your body. Your eyes take in the view of his uncut cock, curving upwards in sexual need.

"Too big?” he asks, tone mocking your deer caught in the headlights expression, his body presses closer to yours while he works to slide your tight little dress up your thighs, exposing your panty clad pussy to his eyes , fuck yeah.

“I'll make it fit" he groans, running his fingers over your vulva, pinching your clit in the process. You sob and start flailing in his hold, your fists coming up to hit against his chest.

"Jay please, please,no" your voice shakes urgently when he tears your sheer panties apart in pieces, his tongue coming out to lick over his dry lips.his eyes are wide and unseeing, they terrify you.

"Fuck, this pussy has been driving me fucking crazy" he pants, taking a hold of his dick and running it's bulbous head along your slit, coating it in his precum. His eyes come up to momentarily look in your terrified ones and he bites his lower lip, gaze famished and hungry, drinking up all your reactions.

He pops his head in between your silky folds and his knees buckle at the delicious feeling, his free hand coming up to rest against the wall behind you, as he cages you against it.

"fuck, you're tight, gonna have a field day forcing myself inside" he tuts, amused.

His words make you sob, an inexplicable heat spreading across your pelvis when he bullies more of his throbbing shaft inside, satisfied moans leaving his mouth in stuttering gasps.

He wraps your leg around his waist and without warning, buries himself inside your cunt in one harsh thrust, doubling over in pleasure.

"Oh fuck yeah baby, shit" He growls, resting his forehead against yours, his hot breaths falling on your wet cheeks.

You wail and scream but Jay doesn't stop moving, your small fists do nothing to deter his movements, his hips starting to pick up pace instead. His brows furrow in pleasure and he moans into your mouth, urging you to cry more as his cock pumps deep inside your guts.

"Tight little slut, this is what you fucking wanted didn't you? Fucking cock tease" he hisses, throwing his head back in extreme ecstasy, pounding his hips rapidly into yours. The feeling of your nails scratching the skin of his neck makes him groan in pleasure.

"Yeah baby, you wanna fight? let's fucking fight like this" He whispers silkily, grabbing your ass in his big palms, groping your soft flesh painfully, digging his own nails into it.

"h-hurts so much Jay, stop please, p-please" you sob, tears blurring your vision, the stretch from his cock being too much for your tiny little pussy. The way your nails dig into his shoulders, you're sure that if he was naked, you would break his skin.

Jay scoffs and presses your body further into the wall, snapping his hips faster into yours, fucking desperately into your wet, hot cunt.

"Yeah? But your cunt is sucking me in baby, looks like you like what we're doing"

You throw your head back at his words, unable to stop your hips from gyrating against his thrusts. Pleasure was starting to cloud your mind.

"fucking finally, feels so good to be buried in this pussy, should have forced myself in it a long time ago" He pants, taking your lower lip in his mouth while he increases the intensity of his rut. You moan into his mouth when he digs his teeth in your plump flesh, his actions barbaric.

The squelching sounds start filling up the small cubicle, the filthiness of the whole act only working to fuel your desire more.

Before you can get submerged in pleasure tho, Jay pulls out of you with an embarrassing ‘plop’ and forces you to your knees instead; ignoring how you hiss in pain at the feeling of the rough tiles scraping against your bare knees.

He penetrates your mouth with his cock and starts fucking, plowing it like it's your cunt, moaning and groaning in pure pleasure.

You dig your nails into his thighs but he ignores your pleas to breathe, pushing your head further against the wall instead. He digs his fingers in your hairs and grinds his hips into your plump mouth, his dick hitting the back of your throat mercilessly.

"God yeah, just like that, jerked off so much to you baby, suck my dick like you fucking mean it" His whiny voice travels straight between your legs and you moan. The vibrations of your throat make his dick twitch inside your mouth and he pulls out with a groan.

He rubs his cock head against your lips and buries himself to the hilt inside your throat again, pressing your nose against his pubes while his cum filled balls slap against your chin.

The lack of gagging makes him chuckle in disbelief “no fucking gag reflex, god your throat is just like a fucking cunt”.you mewl and rub your thighs together at his words.

"Fucking hell, should have done this before, we could have been fucking so much" he grouches, kneeling down and forcing your body onto the floor. It's a tight fit, but jay doesn't seem to care. He folds your body in half and thrusts inside your pussy again. His movements are so impatient and hurried, you aren't used to being desired this way.

"mhmnm yeah, pussy feels so good" He growls, his hold tightening further around your legs that rest against his shoulders and he starts to rut into your tight heat again. This time it's more desperate, downright filthy. He's panting on your face, letting a string of saliva drip from his mouth into yours when he sees your mouth open in a silent scream. You choke on it and he laughs, condescending, hissing through gritted teeth.

"Get used to this baby, we're gonna be fucking so much after tonight, gonna keep my cock buried in your fuck hole" he groans, bullying his cock into your hole over and over again.

You wrap your arms around his neck and start grinding into him, staring back into his eyes to let him know that you want this.

His eyes widen upon feeling your hips thrusting upwards, humping his cock, hot pleasure running down his spine.

"Yeah baby? fuck, you like this? fucking slut, you did all of that on purpose didn't you? wanted to drive me fucking crazy for this pussy?"

You nod in pleasure, all rational thoughts leaving your mind. All you know is, that his dick feels a little too good when it rams against your cervix.

You are close, way too close, your body convulsing in carnal lust as your orgasm washes over you all of a sudden.

Moan after moan of his name falling from your red bitten lips.

He laughs as he feels your cum trickle down his thighs, drenching his balls in your juices.

"fucking slut" He moans, throwing his head back as he enjoys the clenching of your throbbing cunt on his leaking shaft.

He feels himself close to his high, but he doesn't want this to end. Not yet.

Jay pulls out and rests his back against the wall, patting his thigh for your spent figure as you lie on the floor.

"Come sit on it " He breaths, his voice strained due to how much effort it takes for him to not start jerking off to the sight of your sticky cum running between your pussy lips.

So fucking hot. He wants to obliterate your pussy.

He watches with hooded eyes as you get up on your knees and crawl towards him, eyes trailing down to his hard dick. Jay groans at your hungry gaze, fuck yeah. You want him. You want his dick.

This singular thought forces him to wrap his palm around his leaking prick. Your eyes widen and a small mewl escapes your lips as you watch him stroke his length slowly, wet sounds resonating between the space between your hot bodies.

Jay bites on his lower lip and starts to stroke faster "yeah you like this? This is how I jerked off to your thoughts baby, rubbed my dick raw every night, imagining it was your pussy instead of my fucking hand" He pants, cupping his balls with his other hand, the double stimulation driving him insane.

The sight in front of you is so lewd, it makes your pussy drip. The way his pants are not all the way off, resting against his ankles, hanging on him unceremoniously is so hot, your cunt clenches around nothing.

Without a single thought, you close the gap between your bodies, straddling his lap while you maintain a hungry eye contact with him. He looks famished as he watches you replace his palms with yours, tugging on his throbbing cock a few more times before you guide it to your wet hole.

"Yeah baby put it in, come on, put my dick inside" He groans, his hands coming up to wrap around your waist, pulling you down onto his length impatiently. You both let out gasps of pleasure when his dick slips inside, buried in you balls deep.

"f-fuck" you moan and he hums, throwing his head back in pleasure. The itch in your pussy starts to intensify and your hips start moving on their own, looking a way to satisfy it.

"Yeah, ride it, ride it like you fucking want it" he moans, thrusting up into your hole. You gasp and hold onto his shoulders, slamming yourself up and down on his shaft. The sex feels too good. So hot and so messy. It makes you wonder why you were resisting it in the first place.

Your hot, sweaty bodies rutt against one another desperately, feeling your highs approaching at a rapid pace.

"Bounce on it baby, come on, make me cum, wanna fill this pussy up" He pants, digging his nails into your thighs as he begins thrusting up at a rapid pace. You squeal at the sudden action but bury your face inside the crook of his neck in pleasure. Too good. Fuck it's starting to get too hot.

Desperate gasps escape his lips when your cunt starts clenching around him again, he's close, so close. Fuck yeah. He can’t believe he is finally gonna cum in your cunt, and just the thought of it was enough to make the knot in his stomach snap.

"Just like that, oh yeah, oh fuckkkkkk" he growls, humping upwards as he holds your body down and squirts his cum into your womb, thrusting rapidly into your swollen pussy, making you cum again.

You moan and whine when he doesn't stop moving, his hips pick up pace without break and your head gets dizzy. The over-stimulation getting to your head.

"can't stop fucking, let's do it again yeah? let me pound this cunt again I'm so fucking hard"

Before you can protest, he is flipping you around, pressing your body against the bathroom floor, your boobs squished against the cold tiles. The tiles were so dirty, probably because of the number of couples before you both, who couldn't wait to get down and dirty. You wonder, how many people fucked in this cubicle before you, and your back arches on its own. You feel his body mounting you and he envelops your sweaty body with his meaty arms.

You gasp upon feeling his thumb prodding at your asshole, dipping in and out experimentally.

"Jay not there please please I've never-" your begging gets cut off with a shrill scream as his entire head bullies inside your sphincter.

Jay's eyes roll back in pleasure and he moans, the sound so pornographic that it makes hot lust run through your womb.

"fucking hell baby, it's tighter than your pussy, gonna fuck it so hard"

Your legs flail but Jay doesn’t stop dicking you down, he thrusts his entire length inside your virgin hole and groans in ecstasy, it is the tightest hole he's ever been buried in. His hips start moving, plowing into you at a rapid pace. He puffs and huffs like a dog in heat, the stimulation around his dick pushing him closer to the edge again. Your hole stays tight as a clamp around his meat.

You, on the other hand, wail in pleasure mixed with pain. It hurts, it hurts but God does it hurt so good. His balls slap against your ass cheeks painfully.

Skin slapping sounds fill up the bathroom and you push your ass back against his dick, moaning and bucking back, needing it deeper inside your stomach.

"That's right baby, fuck back on me, gonna cum so hard again" His plaintive groans indicate his arousal, lust drips from the frantic movements of his hips.

He thrusts inside you wantonly, his desire to nut overpowering all other senses.

The desperate rut and stimulation of your hole sends you tumbling over another orgasm, your legs quivering as you come with a pleasured moan, chanting his name in a prayer.

The tight clamping of your two sphincter muscles on his fully engorge cock send jay over the line. He bellows loudly, cursing and grunting as spurt after spurt of his pent-up sperm paint the inside of your fuck hole

Finally satiated, Jay falls onto your limp body, kissing your earlobe, mumbling lazily about how he's gonna fuck you again and again till he erases heeseung's name from the forefront of your mind.

You don't tell him that there is no heeseung anymore. You don't tell him how every cell of your body only craves his touch now, aching to be plowed by his dick alone.

[thegoldencontracts]

How Can You Fluster Them?

Characters: Heartslabyul, Savannaclaw, Octavinelle

Ace Trappola:

- Pretty easily, actually.

- As smug and teasing as he can be, there are quite a few things that get him flustered.

- Bring up how sweet he's acting or how sentimental he seems to watch him sputter furiously in denial; show him direct affection and kindness to watch him blue screen for a second before embarrassedly scoffing about how lame you're being.

- You can fluster him even further by teasing him about how smug he was a second ago. That really gets him.

Deuce Spade:

- While you could tease him about being 'stupid', yes, that is a bit hurtful, and it isn't really the best way.

- Just the opposite. Genuinely complimenting his intelligence, his strengths? That's what catches him off-guard. He doesn't quite know how to acknowledge it when someone truly, genuinely tells him he's not dumb, and him not being an effortless scholar doesn't mean he is.

- There are other ways, of course, like sudden acts of affection, pranks, or even dodging his kisses.

- He gets all red, and a tad defensive. It's the funniest sight.

Riddle Rosehearts:

- Most affection flusters him.

- Seriously. He's never really received it, considering his upbringing, so even things like hugs or kisses on the cheek leave him red. You're not quite certain whether it's more cute or sad.

- He'll get rather huffy if you point it out. It's rather comedic, but you might want to refrain from laughing too much, lest he ends up chastising you.

Trey Clover:

- Pointing out his true brilliance.

- That's the main method. Although he's used to affection, to being told he's a good baker, a nice guy, and whatnot, he's not quite used to having his true potential acknowledged.

- He'll look away with a flush, denying his true intelligence, the true strength of his Unique Magic, or whatever it is you've opted to praise him for.

Cater Diamond:

- Allowing him to be genuine.

- It will take a while, frankly. With most people, Cater dons the personable mask of Cay-Cay the friendly senior, but with time... And patience, he may warm up to you enough to be himself. Be moody, the ultimate hater of sweets, and whatnot.

- He can't help but feel oddly flustered, caught off-guard, really, when you let him complain about the way Riddle was before his overblot, when you make him something salty for a dessert of sorts.

Leona Kingscholar:

- There are quite a few ways.

- If you two are together, he might tease you quite a bit. Reciprocating said teasing is certain to get him huffy and flustered. Teasing in general, really. Dodging his kisses? Headpats? Photoshopping him in cat ears? If you're close enough to him, they'll all work wonderfully.

- And... Genuine understanding flusters him as well. Prioritizing him in small ways, like taking a break from your gaming to talk to him, or allowing him to vent to you.

Ruggie Bucchi:

- Caring for him.

- Ruggie is used to having to act incredibly mature for his age, yes. He's cunning, clever, and responsible, important traits to make up for his disadvantages in life.

- So, when you (jokingly, I would hope) babytalk him, pat him on the head, or ask if he'd like to be the little spoon, it gets him terribly huffy. What's that supposed to mean, huh?

- It's even worse when you genuinely care for him, making him meals, or offering him a massage. It's hard for him to accept help. He's not a kid! He doesn't need the babying! It's worth nothing that he has a very broad interpretation of what counts as "babying". However, he will accept after a while, and be very, very flustered about it.

Jack Howl:

- Teasing him.

- He's always in denial about his softer side, no matter how apparent it becomes that he truly admires or cares for something or someone. He gets terribly flustered at his own sentiment.

- Teasing him about it just makes things worse. Dramatically exclaim how cruel he is because he said he "wasn't concerned for you or anything". Play dumb when he tries to ask for a kiss in a roundabout manner. The result is hilarious.

Azul Ashengrotto:

- There are so many ways to do this.

- Teasing him about his affections, for one. This is the same man who couldn't even admit to caring for his business, who claimed that love made one exploitable. He's already terribly mortified by his own so-called exploitability. Asking if he likes you gets him rather pouty before you're dating.

- Genuine, continued kindness is also rather flustering for him. You- care for him? Wish to see him succeed? You accept his flaws? You don't view him as pathetic for his tears? It's all territory he's terribly unused to.

Jade Leech:

- Standing up for him when he's insulted, for one. Telling the stranger that, no, his mushrooms aren't creepy, they're impressive, they just need to get a hobby. That leaves him shocked for a bit.

- There's also things like being the one to tease him, caring for him, listening to his rambles about mushrooms.

- Those leave him red-faced for a good few seconds. Calling out his flustered state garnets a pointed "Let us move on".

Floyd Leech:

- Initiating affection.

- Really, although he seems lackadaisical most of the time, impossible to fluster, it isn't quite that hard. He isn't used to being kissed, or hugged, or even praised without a certain business-oriented touch.

- So, when you suddenly kiss him, or offer to be the big spoon, or whatnot, he freezes up.

- If you point it out, he gets comedically defensive. Someone needs to tell him how terrible "I-I'm not blushing or whatever, that'd be laaame, so shut up!" Works as a method of denial.

[dorabellingham]

Christmas lunch

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you go to Real Madrid's famous end-of-year lunch and he takes the opportunity to introduce you to the team

request: yes!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Your and Jude’s first Christmas together in Madrid was a special event. It was the first time you celebrated the holidays as a couple living outside of England, far from the family traditions you had both grown up with. The Christmas atmosphere in the Spanish city was different, but no less magical. Trees were lit up in the squares, the streets were bustling, and you were looking forward to a special reason: the traditional Real Madrid Christmas lunch, where you would meet Jude’s teammates and some of their families.

On the morning of the lunch, you were standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your emerald green dress, which was simply cut but elegant. Jude, sitting on the bed already dressed in a wool shirt and impeccable black tailored pants, watched his girlfriend with an admiring smile.

—You look amazing, babe. —He said, standing up to hug you from behind. —The guys are going to die of envy.

You laughed, a little nervously.

—I hope they like me... You know, I don't want to be just 'Jude's girlfriend'. I want them to see that I'm fun too.

—Trust me. —He replied, kissing the top of your head. —You're going to be the star of the lunch. Everyone will love you.

You left the house and, on the way to the event venue, you tried to relax, but your nervousness was evident. When you arrived, the reserved restaurant was beautifully decorated, with shades of gold and red, and a party atmosphere took over the place. As soon as you entered, you were warmly welcomed by Jude's teammates and their families.

The first to approach was Dani Carvajal, who smiled hugely when she saw Jude.

—Finally brought your girlfriend, huh, Bellingham? —He said, greeting her with two little kisses on the cheek. —Nice to meet you, Y/n. He only talks about you, you know?

You smiled awkwardly.

—Nice to meet you, Dani. I hope he only says good things.

—Oh, it depends on the day.

Dani joked, making everyone laugh.

Vinícius Jr. soon approached with his contagious energy. He hugged Jude as if they were brothers and then greeted you.

—So you’re the famous Y/n? Girl, Jude never shuts up about how amazing you are.

You laughed, feeling more at ease with the Brazilian’s relaxed manner.

—I hope I don’t disappoint after all this publicity.

—Impossible. —He replied, winking. —Welcome to our little chaos.

During lunch, you noticed how united the team was. Luka Modrić, with his calm and friendly manner, asked about your life in Madrid and how you were adapting. Eduardo Camavinga, young like Jude, made you laugh by telling you stories from behind the scenes of training. Even Carlo Ancelotti, the coach, made a point of greeting you.

When the main course was served, Vinícius Jr, who was really excited, raised a glass and made a brief toast to celebrate the team spirit and family.

—And to Y/n. —He added with a smile. —Who is already part of our family for being our Jude’s soulmate.

You blushed, but thanked him with a shy smile. Jude, next to you, squeezed your hand discreetly under the table.

While everyone was talking and laughing, Jude leaned towards you.

—See? I told you you would do well. They already love you, love.

You smiled, leaning towards him.

—They are amazing. But I still think I’m here because I’m your girlfriend.

Jude chuckled softly.

—You are my girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a star on your own. Look how they’re laughing at your jokes.

You looked at the table, where Dani, Vinícius and Camavinga were laughing at something you had said moments before. It was true. You felt accepted, more than you expected.

After lunch, while the players took pictures with their families and joked around with each other, you and Jude posed together for a photo. He put his arm around your waist, while you smiled for the camera.

—First Christmas together in Madrid!

He said softly, looking at you.

—And the first of many!

You replied, leaning your head on his shoulder.

When you got home that night, you took off your shoes and threw yourself on the couch, relieved and happy.

—They’re so nice, Jude. It was so much better than I expected.

Jude sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

—I knew it would be like this. You win everyone over without even trying, sweetie.

You sighed, satisfied.

—You know, I was afraid I wouldn’t feel at home here in Madrid. But I guess, with you and the people around us, it’s starting to feel like my place.

Jude kissed the top of your head, smiling.

—Because it’s your place. Wherever we are, Y/n, you’ll always be my home.

And so, your first Christmas together in Madrid became an unforgettable memory, a milestone in the beginning of the new life you were building together.

[writer-komaru]

Wild One’s Rodeo 𓃗

Warning✧ [explicit] Grinding, no protection, dubcon.

Characters✧ Boothill

Words✧ 1464

Summary✧ As a waitress for one of the most popular bars in penacony, you’ve met your fair share of strange characters. A smug man adorned in exotic furs who tried making a bet with the bartender, a sparkling knight who gave every lady in the bar a rose without even staying for a drink, even an enigmatic woman carrying a purple katana with eyes like a serpent who sat alone at the end of the bar. But never have you met a man like Boothill. A man of steel and whiskey, tying you in hemp like you’re nothing but a naughty cow he’s gonna tame. Give him a rodeo he won’t forget.

“Sorry for the wait, ma’am. Here’s your sundae,” you place a decked out desert in front of an impatient woman who snarls a crude thanks. You’d like to give her a good smack for making you fetch her four other deserts until she is finally satisfied but you had already been scolded two times already. You couldn’t afford to lose another job. Not in this “thriving” economy that had the lower class slaving away while the rich babbled over dozens of mugs of beer or road cars that sped down the busy streets like a comet streaking through the night sky.

You pushed away the unrealistic thoughts and got back to work. “What would ya like, sir?” “How can I help ya, ma’am?” “Would ya like a refill?” The thoughts buzzed and bounced around in your head like a hive of bees; it was beginning to drive ya mad. That was until they suddenly went dead silent.

You placed another tray of expensive alcohol (stuff you’d never dream of buying) onto the faded wooden counter when the doors of the bar flew open, almost splintering into pieces. A shot blasted out into the sky.

“YEEEEHAWW!! How’s all yall fiendin’ tonight?” He hollered out into the crowded bar catching everyone’s attention, including yours. Even though you’ve never seen this man before in your life, the guests erupted into cheers, some even standing up to greet him or share drinks. At Leary it gave you a few seconds to scope him out. He wore a tight, jet-black leather vest and pants, held up by a brown and heavy gold belt. Yet, that wasn’t the main thing that caught your eye. His vest appeared to be cut right above the nipples. But, strangely enough, he didn’t really have any. Instead, his entire upper body from the neck down to his feet and fingertips was entirely plated with titanium, or some similar shiny metal. Could he be some type of robo cowboy?

“Heyyyy little lady, whatcha doin’ on yer own?~” you gasped as he pushed you up against the counter, humming right against your ear with such a deep country accent you felt your legs tremble. He seemed to notice it too, his smirk stretching into a full on smile. “Oh my sweet darlin’, yer gonna fly away like a mayflower in May if ya keep trembling’ like that. Don’t worry babydoll, I got ya~” he chuckled with that rugged, sultry voice as he playfully stroked your hips, as if he was tinkering with some kind of machine, steadfast on fixing your loose legs. But his tinkering only wet your face ablaze.

Who even WAS this man?! You wanted to push him away and scold him but your hips were pinned so hard to the counter you could feel every inch he had. No, you can’t think such dirty thoughts about a guest, no matter how persuasive they were. And damn, was her persuasive.

“What’s with that look, darlin’? Scared I’ll bite?” Lets out a small laugh, “I might be gentle with it if ya say please, mister…~”

“P-please… mister.” you managed out breathlessly

“Awh, aren’t you a cute little lady~ why not we find out what these metal hands’a mine can do to those barrels yer hauling around, huh doll?~” his hands roamed up your body and gave your breasts a firm squeeze. That little move of his snapped you out of your lustful daze to deliver a fiery slap across his cheek.

He takes it like a champ and lets out a light whistle, “wow baby, you sting like hot iron~”

“Y-you can’t just jump on top of a stranger and have your way…” you cross your arms and turn around, peeking back at him to see his reaction. Any other waitress would have called the Bloodhounds of him. But you weren’t just any woman. You were dying for something actually interesting to your monotonous assembly-line ass job and this cowboy might be your ticket to freedom.

“Awwwhhh come on, doll face~ I ain’t mean no harm. When I saw yer curves dressed in that get up I knew I hadta show ya how to properly ride a bull~” he leans forward, taking your hand in his and kissing it with a flirtatious wink. He begins walking back to the door, your hand still in his, “if ya want some hands on learnin’, follow me, pretty thing.”

You immediately ripped off your stained waitress uniform and ran to his side, “Oh Boothill, I’ve been itching for this~”

“Have ya, now?~” he raised an eyebrow in amusement and pulled you into a nearby alleyway, “Well I know just the way to solve a pesky itch~”

“How will-“ before you could even finish your sentence he lifted both of your legs and swung them over his shoulders, your aching pussy pushed flush against his toned metallic abdomen. The hard surface sent electricity zapping through your wet folds; you were not sure if it was your desire or his robotic body sending out small shocks as if to warn you about the power it can showcase.

“Overwhelmed already?~ never been dicked down by a real man, have ya, darling?” He teases, stoking your flames.

“N-no, I have… m-many times…” you bluffed.

“You sure, babydoll? Cuz this cute little pussy down here’s singin’ a different tune and myyyy is it a sweeten’~” he bites his lip as he rubs his hips side to side, the hard as metal rod in his pants grinding against you so good you felt like cumming already and he wasn’t even inside yet.

“P-please….” You begged between gasps.

“Please what, doll?~” he smirked wickedly.

“P-please… p-ple… pl… ease….” You choked out each word, struggling to put them together.

“Two little words and I’ll stretch ya out so good your kitty’ll meow so loud they’ll call animal control,” he gave your chest another teasing squeeze.

“P-please… boothiiiiiilllll….” You cried out.

“That’s a good girl…~” his eyes narrowed with focus as he pushed aside your drenched panties and stroked your folds up and down.

“So sticky and wet… like a rich lil beehive overflowing with thick honey…” he once again rested his head on your shoulder as he aligned himself to your twitching pussy. Without so much as a warning, he rammed right inside, immediately hitting the deepest reaches of your womb, making you release an embarrassingly loud cry and a hot stream of cum all over his shiny abs. “Wowie…~ someone’s really been dying for a proper fucking, huh?” He gripped your hips tight and grunted as he attempted a deeper thrust, “I’ll milk this pretty hole for all its for.”

“Aaaaggh... nnnagggg… s-stop… n-no deep… we… aaACK!~” you choked out moan after moan, almost like you were a pent up teen again. No matter how much you begged, he only went faster and harder, with enough robotic accuracy and consistency you knew you’d be sore for days. It was like he filled each slap of skin with a silent promise to somehow, some way, get you pregnant.

He let out a particularly loud groan in your ear, “oh baby, if ya squeeze me like that… ohhhh doll…~ I just can’t take much more-a this.~ Ya ready? Ready for a real mess?”

“Y-yeah-ahh! Yeeaaaahhhh-Ahhh!” You cried out.

“Darn baby…. Oh… oh fu- f-fudge…. Hold on baby, I’m almost… oh darling, you’re perfect for me!~” with one last growl you feel a large burst of warm cum burst inside of you, dripping out onto the concrete of the secluded alleyway. But instead of giving himself even a moment’s rest, he bites his lip and shoves himself right back in, humping at you like a dog in heat.

“Shi-sugar baby, I just can’t stop breeding this pretty hole… And these massive tits here don’t make it any easier~” he gropes them a bit more before pinching your nipples with a naughty smile.

“A-aaagh!”

“Ohhh~ did someone like that~” he begins fucking you harder and licks your neck, “I didn’t know I had such a foxy lady under me~”

“P-pleasssseeeee boothill…”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get ya to that edge again…. And again and again and again, oh, you’ll have so much fun with me,” he laughed before delivering a cheeky bite to your neck. Your moans began to soften as your vision darkened, which he caught onto almost as fast as he’s drilling into you.

“I’ve got ya, doll… just let the darkness settle in.” He whispers with a soothing groan as he litters a series of bites along your neck and shoulder, each one fading your vision faster until it is purely black. When the morning comes, you’ll definitely get an ear full from your boss. That is…. If you choose to awake from this beautifully sexy daydream.

Hellooo everyone, I’m so terribly sorry it’s been so long. My life’s gotten a whole lot busier and I haven’t had any inspiration to write in a very very long time. BUT!! Even though this ain’t much compared to my usual stuff, I hope it’s still enjoyable to you all. I love yall so much, looking back at all the kind comments and likes warms my heart more than anything. See yall soon! (I’d be down for a part two if yall like 👀)

[autumnbrambleagain]

everyone jokes about how they'd be different if they were a vampire wizard immortal they wouldn't lose track of mortal life they'd be So Normal About It but in playing a single morrowind save for like a year now with a ton of mods im experiencing the strange growth of my characterization in it from powerless outsider with no home to wizard to becoming increasingly strange to maintain power and like

okay see i can just. you can't teleport infinitely but my alteration and vampire Jumps are so good i can just literally launch off and land anywhere in the world. space no longer matters to me. a 10 minute walk is now a 10 second jump.

vampirism means i'm immune to normal weapons and my stats are so dang high i can just stand there and even with MDMD and the 4nm PVP mod most things can't really hit me or hurt me and i have 100 ways to kill anything at will. i have so many limiting mods on to keep me from going Broken but i still have destruction 130 strength 140 stealth 150 and like it took me like a real life year of playing on and off to get that far so it feels Earned and there was a real sense of progression (excluding the vampire boost jump) but it's made me Strange power makes you Weird

and having such absolutely drunken insane power over mortal life really fucks with me doing the main quest for the first time in a decade where like

the erabenimsum are like "you'll... have to kill the warlike leaders of our tribe. we warn you they are very powerful" and i'm just like. what. you guys were my neighbors for a year at this point i could have just killed a bunch of you and changed your society in 30 seconds and you'd have let me yeah ok. hold on. brb. and i just kind of pop in and explode everyone and come back like yeah that was easy no worries.

and like i started this game deeply immersed, like taking everything slow eating different foods every day to satisfy my ashfall meters doing paintings of places i liked hanging out fishing and now i'm just this vampire Force of Will teleporting and flying and destroying things with a black-eyed glance and i'm playing with doors of oblivion and finding there is such a Bigger World out there like

i think the actual natural progression of this character is complete disassociation with the world and graduation from like ALL of this this fucker is piercing the Aurbis and just Leaving which you know is like

a distressingly resonant thematic with my own experiences and that i am playing this character as my 1:1 self insert like haha yeahthat. that. that hits a lot closer to home than i wanted it to. as above so below no matter how many onion layers huh.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Chapter 7 - Girl of The Season | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

You went out to dinner with Jack, Noah, Trent, and a few more of their friends. At first you didn’t want to go but Trent texted you that he better see you tonight. It made you giddy when he followed up...

It was sweet, playful, and everything you’d wanted. The night had started with excitement, a thrill of anticipation as you’d read more of Trent’s message telling you he’d have a hard time keeping his hands off you. It all had you feeling like a schoolgirl. You’d gone out thinking it’d be fun—a way to let loose and enjoy the easy chemistry that had been brewing between you and Trent, even with everyone else around. You imagined the night like any other was lately, filled with laughter and stolen glances that no one else would notice. The evening buzzed with energy, drinks flowing and stories spinning across the table. The group banter was easy, familiar. But as you sat at the table, laughing along to their stories, everything changed in an instant. One boy looked at Trent and asked a question that’s intent was harmless but catastrophic to you. 

“Bro, so who's the girl of the season right now?” The question was referring to something you didn’t know about. It hung in the air, a casual laugh among them, but it made you freeze. You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to react to something you didn’t quite understand. Trent shifted in his seat, letting out a small laugh as he shrugged it off, but the other boys egged him on, teasing him as if they were letting you in on some kind of inside joke. Trent couldn’t do anything but let it play out. He felt helpless and stupid at the mercy of his own history. You knew Trent got with plenty of other girls before you but you had no idea it was so routine. That he’d apparently find a girl ahead of each football season began so he’d have someone locked in for when he was away and because he’d be too busy to go out and find someone- it was convenience not love. 

“Yeah, just share her now, mate. Or is she not locked in yet” Noah laughed. They kept laughing and adding to it, casually throwing around details as if this ritual was common knowledge, as if finding a girl for convenience was routine. It felt hollow, the notion that Trent had a pattern, that every season he had someone by his side just as a placeholder for when he was busy.

“Girl of the season huh?” You quipped with a raised brow. You felt sick but presented just teasing.  You tried to keep your tone light, even though your pulse was racing. You looked to Trent for clarity, a reassurance he didn’t immediately give. The boys kept talking. Even Jack joining asking if it was maybe going to be the girl he rejected i.e you. i.e the girl Trent had told them about after your incident at the club. Your heart sank, you wanted to cry but you bit back tears and spoke up once more. Inside you felt horrible. Were you merely his ‘girl or the season?’ “So… is there a contract?” you asked, sarcasm laced in your voice. “When’s the deadline day?” You quipped. But the weight of the situation bore down on you, leaving you feeling like you were nothing more than an option, something temporary. You were trying to join the banter just to survive, even though you were crumbling inside.

“Y/N it’s not that serious, the transfer window is always open” one boy laughed. All the boys laughed, not sensing the discomfort behind your smile. They couldn’t possibly know this information hurt you. They didn’t know everything that had happened behind closed doors.

“Yeah, it’s rolling. I was just curious because Trenty usually has his girl locked in by this point. Season’s started. You know a lucky lady to keep him… entertained,” Noah laughed, the others nodding in agreement. “She’s lucky… and convenient. He’s a busy man, after all.” He joked further. You felt the blood drain from your face, but you forced a smile. 

“Is it now? Wow… sounds really really good for you ” you sarcastically quipped. 

“Nah, lads relax… it’s not.” Trent tried to stop this. He could feel your tension even though it wasn’t showing on your composed face. Trent cut in, sensing the shift, his voice softening as he tried to redirect the conversation. His eyes flicked over you with a trace of panic and concern but most of all guilt. But the boys continued, chuckling about his past conquests, reeling off names as if recounting game stats. 

“Yeah remember the year you won the Champions league you were cooking with girls. Lol.  Michele, Keely, Taylor…” Noah added. It was a boys dinner and suddenly you realized that and they didn’t. Noah forgot about the obvious crush you had on Trent. Noah meant no harm but this was making you sick. The illusion of intimacy shattered in your mind, leaving raw insecurity and a sudden urge to escape. Trent sensed it, reaching for your hand under the table, a dangerous move but it was the only thing he could do, his touch gentle, but you pulled back, suddenly feeling exposed. Trying to keep your composure, you excused yourself and walked quickly to the bathroom. Your hands shook as you closed the door, the glossy, tiled walls offering little comfort. The hurt hit you all at once, and you sank onto the floor, your breath hitching as you tried to hold back tears, feeling crushed under the weight of it all. The thought that you’d been so easily slotted into a role in his life—temporary, interchangeable, convenient—cut deeper than you’d imagined. Had you let yourself believe you were different to him? That you mattered more?  In the solitude of the bathroom, the truth crashed over you in waves. It wasn’t just that he had been with other girls before—of course he had. But this casual talk, the way they all laughed as if his relationships were nothing more than placeholders, as if this ‘girl of the season’ title was just part of the cycle… it made you feel disposable. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hot tears blurring your vision. You felt naive, stupid even, for letting yourself fall for someone who’d apparently seen you as convenient. For thinking you were different. It felt foolish to imagine you could hold a place in his life that was anything more than temporary. In the cold, sterile quiet of the bathroom, you replayed every tender moment you’d shared with Trent, every laugh, every late-night conversation, every quiet touch that had felt so real. And now, it felt like it had all been a facade. How could you have been so naive?

After a few deep breaths, you pulled yourself together, standing up and dabbing at your eyes. You couldn’t hide out forever, no matter how much you wanted to. You checked your reflection, steeling yourself, and returned to the table, forcing a breezy smile as you slid back into your seat, a mask of indifference firmly in place. But as you settled in, Trent’s gaze caught yours, worry etched across his face. He’d seen the hurt lingering in your eyes, even as you tried to hide it. The question of whether he cared—whether he’d ever care as deeply as you did—hung between you, unspoken but heavy. And in that moment, you realized you didn’t want to be anyone’s ‘girl of the season.’ Not even his. Trent looked at you, his gaze intense, worry etched into his features. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t do anything and you loathed him for it. You averted your eyes, focusing instead on your drink, anything to avoid his gaze. Your heart was screaming that you weren’t. You’d wanted so badly for him to see you as more, for what you had together to mean something real. And now, you weren’t sure if it ever could. 

The night had unraveled faster than you could process, and the hurt simmered, sharp and bitter, as the dinner ended. You didn’t look at Trent once more the rest of the night, you completely ignored him. Trent’s presence had been an ache next to you that you ignored, refusing to look his way, refusing to acknowledge him as if somehow that might make the pain hurt less. You were barely holding it together when you all stood up to leave. The others filed out, laughing and talking, but you pulled Jack aside and asked if he could drive you to Layla’s instead. Jack chuckled, a teasing grin on his face. 

“Why did Trent even buy you that car if I’m always the one driving you around?” he teased, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling inside you. You forced a smile, ready to brush it off, but Trent stepped in, his voice firm.

“I’m heading that way, Y/N. Let me drop you at Lay’s,” he said. You snapped back a quick ‘No,’ trying to keep your tone dismissive, trying to make it sound like you just didn’t want to be a bother. But Jack insisted, scoffed teasingly,  rolling his eyes.

“Go with him, Y/N. I don’t want to drive across town,” he said, half-joking, his car keys dangling in his hand as he made a show of locking his car door to prevent you from climbing in. Frustration bubbled up, and you were close to tears, caught between trying to hold it together and wanting to break down. 

“Jack, please. Just drive me home then,” you whispered, your voice barely hiding the tremble. But after a bit more back and forth, with Jack being relentless and Trent silently waiting, the rest of the boys’ cars pulled out, Jack’s included, leaving you and Trent alone in the dark, quiet car park. The silence in the parking lot was thick, broken only by the distant sound of traffic and the soft hum of streetlights above. You stood there, feeling exposed, raw from the dinner that had stripped away your illusions. You wanted to hide, to be anywhere but here, but Trent’s gaze held you still. His eyes, so familiar and usually so gentle, were clouded with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“Come here,” he said quietly but sternly, his hand reaching out for you, his voice steady but soft. Trent was still, his face serious, any of the laughter from dinner completely gone.

“No,” you said sharply, pulling back. Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Just… don’t, Trent. Just leave me alone. I’m not going with you. I’ll call an uber.” You snipped. You wanted to shout, scream at him for everything you’d heard tonight and for the pain it had left you with, but you were too tired, too heartbroken to manage anything louder than a whisper. “Please leave me alone.” You whispered once more as the tears on your lash line finally tipped over.  You felt the tears streaming down now, the anger and hurt tumbling out as you cried, unable to contain it any longer. But he wasn’t giving up. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he said firmly, stepping closer, his voice firmer this time. “Do you know what year I won the Champions League?” His question made you flinch; the reminder of the stories his friends had told, of the girls they’d listed, was like salt in a wound. He was asking you to recall the very thing that hurt. He asked like the question mattered, like it would fix anything. You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your voice steady.

 “I don’t care, Trent,” you whimpered, wiping a hand across your tear-streaked face.You glared at him, your eyes blazing with hurt. And then a different emotion appeared in full force. “I don’t care, T. I don’t care about any of it,” you snapped, wiping angrily at the tears falling faster. But he wasn’t deterred. His jaw was set, his eyes locked on yours, determined to make you hear him.

“The year I won the Champions League,” he began slowly, voice low but steady, “was the year you had that serious boyfriend.” His words hung between you like a confession, and for a second, you forgot to breathe. For context, he wasn't referring to Josh. You remembered that year — the love you’d thought you had found with another boy, the trust that had shattered when you’d learned of his cheating. But why was Trent bringing it up now?  “I couldn’t stand it, Y/N,” he said, his voice softening, breaking just slightly. “I couldn’t stay home watching you be his. I needed… anything, anyone, to stop thinking about you with him. It hurt.” He explained but it wasn’t enough.

“Oh, am I supposed to feel bad for you, Trent? You needed a distraction while I was dating someone? He was cheating on me, okay?” The anger that had simmered in you suddenly flared up, burning bright.  “So poor you. I’m so sorry that you had to fill your fucking bed with so many girls. And mind you so many that you couldn’t even be asked to be there for me during one of the worst years of my life. Trent, he was cheating on me! And now… now I’m here again, wondering if I’m just another ‘distraction’ for you.” You choked, the tears coming faster now, the memories making the hurt sting even more. “He had other women, and you’re doing the same thing. I’m never enough, Trent! You all always need someone else. Something more than me” You yelled generalizing all men. You were lumping Trent with every other man.

“Baby… please.” He begged with a pet name that made you wince at the minute.  And while it wasn’t entirely correct what you were saying, there was truth in it. You took a step back, throwing your hands up, cutting him off. 

“No! This is exactly what it is, Trent. I am never enough. I give everything, and it’s never enough for you… for any of you!” The words came out in a yell, louder than you intended, and in that moment, you couldn’t stop the full on sobs, letting them spill over, hot and blinding as they streamed down your face.

“Y/N, it’s not like that,” he said gently, reaching out to you, but you stepped back, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the pain. He shook his head, his eyes pleading, as he stepped closer trying again.. 

“This isn’t right,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. Trent was silent, his face losing its color as he took in the weight of your words. “We need to stop. I can’t… I can’t do this to Jack. Lying to him when he’s given me everything, and I’m giving it all to you, and to you I’m just… nothing.” The words cracked, a final, painful admission, the weight of it all too heavy to bear. Trent’s face crumpled with remorse, his gaze full of guilt, and without a word, he stepped into you, and this time, when he reached for you, you didn’t resist. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, and for a moment, you let yourself be held, resting your forehead against his chest as you breathed in his familiar scent amidst your tears. He was warm, solid, and despite everything, being in his arms felt safe. You fought him for a moment, weakly pushing against his chest, but he held on, his grip steady and strong, grounding you as you let the tears fall. Shame and guilt washed over him, silent and heavy, as he held you close, feeling the depth of what he’d let happen. And for a moment, the world fell away, the pain eased by the warmth of his arms, though neither of you could find words to fix it. 

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I promise… it’s not like that. It never has been with you. You’re not just another girl. I’ve waited so long, Y/N…”  He quietly whispered, voice thick with emotion as he gently stroked your back. “I should’ve done more to stop it, I just… I don’t know but I know I fucked up at dinner. I know I’m not doing enough but I also don’t know how to make this better, but I want to. I want this. I want you. And I swear, it’s not a game for me.” His fingers brushed through your hair, his voice a soothing murmur, and you let yourself lean into him, the weight of your pain easing slightly. But as he held you, another ache rose in your chest, heavier, more real. 

“It’s just… Jack is all I have, Trent,” you said, voice muffled against his chest. “You and Jack… you’re all I have left.” And the words tasted like truth, a bittersweet reminder of everything you’d lost, of the fragile balance you were trying so hard to keep. “I can’t do this.” You whimpered. “Not for something that isn’t even real to you.” You whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, a soft, tender gesture that made your heart clench. 

“I don’t want you to feel like…. like this isn’t real to me. If it’s even possible it’s so much more real than I ever thought possible and I’m sorry I’m shit at handling it.” His words hung in the cool night air, full of promise, and as he held you, the quiet between you was thick with things unsaid. You closed your eyes, letting yourself believe him for a moment, letting yourself hope that somehow, you wouldn’t have to choose, that somehow, you could keep them both. His arms were a steady warmth around you, and though the pain hadn’t faded completely, in this moment, it felt like maybe… just maybe… there was a way forward.

The car hummed softly beneath you as Trent pulled out of the parking space, his hand warm and steady around yours, grounding you in a way that was both comforting and bittersweet. The weight of the evening still sat heavily on your shoulders, the words exchanged at dinner echoing in your mind, each one pulling at the fragile threads of the trust you’d placed in him. But now, in this quiet moment, his hand was solid in yours, and that simple touch brought a calm you desperately needed. You shifted in your seat, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against your cheek as you closed your eyes, letting the silence settle between you. He brushed his thumb softly over your knuckles, a small but constant reassurance that he was here, that he was with you. The faint streetlights casted a gentle glow over the car’s interior, illuminating his face in the soft shadows, and you felt yourself easing just slightly, even as your heart continued to ache.

“Do you think…. Erm, T…Do you think I could just go to your house tonight?” you whispered, barely audible stumbling to get to the ask out. “I’m really sad, and I don’t want to sleep alone.” Your voice wavered, thick with tears, and you sniffled, trying to steady yourself. He looked at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he took in the vulnerability you were offering, no walls, no defenses. It’s not that you didn’t want to see Layla. It was just that you knew if you told her what you heard tonight she’d have an opinion and it wasn’t that you didn’t value her thoughts, you just needed to get yours in order before you debriefed. Was Trent’s bed the best place to sort those? No, but you wanted his comfort, he’d always been your comfort. 

“Yeah, pretty girl,” he murmured, a tenderness in his eyes that was almost enough to make you believe everything could be okay. “You can come be with me tonight. You can sleep with me whenever you want, okay? My baby.” His words wrapped around you like a promise, one that felt as real as the warmth of his hand around yours, and you nodded, your head finding its way back to his shoulder. For a while, you just stayed like that, nestled into him as he drove, his thumb tracing soothing patterns over your hand resting on his thigh. The city lights blurred softly as he drove, casting gentle reflections against the car windows, and you let yourself sink into the quiet comfort of his presence, each moment a balm to the ache in your heart.

When you reached his house, he parked and didn’t let go of your hand as you both made your way inside, guiding you gently through the door, his touch never wavering. Once inside, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time all night, you felt yourself relax, the weight of the world slipping just a little as he held you. 

He guided you to his bedroom and suddenly a big smile pulled on his face. Tiredly you asked him why he was smiling like that. You weren’t in the mood and really weren’t in the mood for any cheek. But that gorgeous cheeky smile all made sense once you were stood in Trent’s ensuite, holding a brand new pink Goyard wash bag in your hands. Despite everything weighing on your mind, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. You traced the soft pink leather with your fingers, glancing back at him with a puzzled smile as he came into the room, his own grin lighting up his face.

“T… what is this?” you asked, holding it up. He chuckled, stepping closer.

“It’s the same one I have, because, obviously, it’s the best one,” he explained, “mine’s white but I got it for you in pink so it’s like a Mr. and Mrs. thing, you know?” The sincerity in his voice melted something inside you. You turned and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“Go on, open it though,” he urged gently, nodding toward the wash bag, his eyes bright with anticipation. You hadn’t even realized the weight of it, realizing that clearly there were things inside of it as well. You raised a brow, a little surprised—did he really go beyond the bag itself? Unzipping it, you peeked inside and felt an instant laugh bubbling up as you took in all the familiar beauty products you’d mentioned to him the other night, each one carefully packed. You looked up at him in disbelief, a smile stretching across your face as he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I actually had to ask my mum to come with me,” he confessed, laughing as he watched your expression. “Didn’t want to look like a complete idiot in the beauty section.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought, picturing him awkwardly shuffling through the aisles, trying to get it all right. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, shaking your head with affection. Trent pulled you closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he looked down at you, his voice softer now. 

“You’re my only girl, alright? You know you always have been. I’m sorry that I did things that made it seem like you weren’t. I’m sorry it took me so long to show you that…Only girl I’d ever pay that kind of money for ounces of cream for.” He laughed, clearly mocking the price tag on your La Mer moisturizer. “But for you… anything.” And with that, the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back started spilling over. You wiped at them with the back of your hand, giggling through your sniffles, embarrassed but touched beyond words.

“Stop, baby!” he laughed, reaching up to gently swipe a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “Please no more tears. I hate when you cry so, so much,” he whispered, pulling you close again.

“Sorry,” you murmured, a soft giggle slipping out as you looked up at him. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth and safety of him radiate through you. Trent brushed his nose against yours, his hand cradling your cheek as he whispered, 

“I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” And for the first time in a while, you felt your heart settle, the ache easing just a little as you held onto him, feeling the promise of his words wrap around you.

You crawled into Trent’s bed, pulling back the covers, and let out a surprised laugh when you saw the smooth, cool silk pillowcases he’d swapped in just for you. Trent stood nearby, watching your reaction with a smirk, his hands on his hips.

“See?” he teased, puffing up a little as if he’d won a major victory. “Got the silk pillowcases and everything. I’m in, baby.” He cooed proudly. This act so clearly showed he was making an effort. You couldn’t help but feel your heart melt at the gesture, a warmth spreading across your chest. 

“You actually do the most,” you said, shaking your head, but the grin on your face gave you away. The fact that he’d followed through with something so small, something that made you feel comforted and at home, touched you deeply. He moved closer, and you reached out, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent—a mix of his cologne and the lingering warmth of the day. He wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly, your voice barely audible. You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Thank you for liking me… for doing all of this.” His eyes softened, and he gazed at you with such tenderness that it made your throat tighten. 

“Always,” he murmured. He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, then kissed your forehead. The touch was gentle, lingering, as if he wanted to press his feelings directly into your skin. You both climbed into bed, and as you got comfortable, you found yourself settling halfway on top of him, your back resting against his side, your legs tangled with his. His hand found its way to your collarbone, tracing light, lazy patterns that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was calming, grounding you in a way that made you feel safer than you had in a long time. In the dim light, with only the moon casting soft shadows across the room, you found the courage to ask something that had been weighing on your mind. 

“T... Do you think…” you started, your voice hesitant, “we’ll ever be able to really go out together? Like, just… be out in the open?” You asked. The vulnerability in your voice made Trent pause. He turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression earnest. A gentle smile pulled at his lips. 

“Yeah, course if you want that,” he said, his voice full of quiet conviction. His fingers paused in their gentle tracing, and he shifted slightly to look at you more directly. “I mean… things have been good between us I thought but I also didn’t know you wanted that. For us to like go on a date or anything. I wasn’t sure if you liked the secrecy. I don’t know what you thought.” He explained to you sheepishly. Clearly things worked well between you in the bedroom and while you had no problem discussing that, it was also so glaringly obvious there was more to this relationship than just the sex… you just hadn’t said it yet. You bit your lip, feeling both shy and exposed. 

“I do,” you admitted. “I mean, I know it’s complicated, but… I just want to be with you.” He smiled again, this time with a deeper, knowing affection. 

“I want that too. I really do,” he told you. “I just didn’t know how serious you wanted this to be. But if you want it… then I’m in. Silk pillow cases, dates, whatever you want.” His words made your heart flutter, and for a moment, the world felt a little brighter. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but this time they were happy ones. You didn’t say anything more, afraid that if you spoke, you might start crying for real. Instead, you leaned in and kissed his jaw, your lips lingering as you tried to show him everything you couldn’t put into words. That night, there was no urgency between you, no rush to tear each other’s clothes off or tumble into anything wild. Instead, there was a softness that blanketed the room, a shared vulnerability that felt like a bridge between your hearts. You both exchanged gentle, lingering kisses that were more about comfort and closeness than anything else, the tender brush of lips and shared warmth easing the hurt from earlier. As you settled into the soft sheets, the familiar comfort of his bed easing the ache in your chest. His hands gentle as they traced soothing patterns over your back. You curled into him, your legs tangling with his, seeking out every ounce of warmth and comfort he could offer. As you laid there, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.  “I want you.”  He murmured softly. “And only you. Always have.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart squeeze, and you found yourself finally breathing a little easier. And as you drifted to sleep, his arms wrapped securely around you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself to believe in him, in this, in a future where he was more than just a fleeting presence in your life. You squeezed his hand once more, a silent promise to yourself that tonight, at least, you could find peace in his arms. When you finally drifted off, you did so with your head on his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, your cheek pressed against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Your face was relaxed, your pouty bottom lip just barely brushing his skin. Trent lay there, his hand stroking your back in gentle circles, the other cradling the back of your head. He pressed soft kisses to your hairline, whispering to you even though you were already half-asleep. He stayed awake longer, watching the soft, peaceful expression on your face as you dreamed. Guilt twisted in his chest as he thought about how hurt you’d been earlier, how you’d tried to hide it but couldn’t quite keep the pain from seeping through. He wished he could take it all back, erase the moments that made you doubt him. The memory of your stricken face during dinner haunted him, and he knew he had to make it right. His mind began to work on a plan, a way to take you out on a real date, one that wouldn’t be about sneaking around or hiding. He wanted to show you off, to be open about how much you meant to him. He imagined a perfect night, one that would make you smile so brightly that he could forget the hurt he’d caused. As he held you, his chest tightening with how much he cared for you, he promised himself he’d make it happen. You were his only girl, always had been, and he was determined to show you that in every way possible. Even if he couldn’t fix the past, he’d make sure the future was full of moments where you never had to doubt what you meant to him.

After that dinner, things settled back into something you could only describe as uneasy but fine. You still were living this double life, lying to Jack. Keeping the extent of your new life beyond the first fuck from Layla. On the inside of houses, the confines of bedrooms, everything felt perfect; the chemistry with Trent was undeniable, and whenever you were together, it felt like the two of you were building something real. But the moment he left, that foundation started to shake. Alone, doubts crept in, the taunting whispers of insecurity that left you questioning every detail. The laughs and comments from the dinner echoing in your mind. Was this how he made every ‘girl of the season’ feel? Were they all secrets he kept? His history loomed over him. It made you wonder, was this just the same story with you? Only now, Jack's little sister had the lead role, the fact making you feel more self conscious of how he viewed you.  

Layla's constant questions, innocent but probing, made it worse. She didn't know the real extent of what was going on, only that something had happened. She knew you fucked but after that… you kept your lips sealed. Saying you weren't sure either, which was a half truth... you didn't but you also were omitting the fact that you were spending night's together. And while you wanted to confide in her, every part of you held back, afraid of exposing too much-afraid it would all unravel the moment it wasn't hidden. More people couldn’t know, it was too risky. The secrecy felt safe but also confining, and your chest ached every time you thought of it. The double life weighed on you more than you'd ever let on to Trent. And yet, when he messaged you during his away game, that familiar excitement flared up, and you felt that ache turn into something else, a want to remind him of you, make him feel how much chemistry you two had. For the moment you were hidden but after the dinner, after his promises you wanted to make sure he was certain. He texted asking to call you. You were nervous to agree but who wouldn’t want to facetime Trent Alexander-Arnold in bed. You weren’t sure how to act at first but then you decided– You wanted to make it clear you wanted him. You wanted to make him want you. Apprehensive but determined, you sifted through your wardrobe quickly, finding the boldest, most daring piece of sleepwear you owned. It was underwear disguised as something casual. You finally sat in front of the camera, as his call pinged through your phone. You answered, and immediately his jaw dropped. 

"Oh my fucking days," he murmured, his voice low, a mixture of shock and hunger flashing in his eyes. The look he gave you sent a thrill through your entire body.

"Hi," you cooed, feigning innocence as you adjusted your posture slightly, giving him an even better view. A small, mischievous smile tugged at your lips. You wanted this to be memorable. Trent leaned closer to the screen, shaking his head with disbelief and lust flaring behind his eyes.

"You look unreal. Fucking hell," he said, his gaze tracing every curve as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. You felt a rush of power, the distance fading as he soaked up every detail of your look. But it wasn’t just the look, it was everything; the clearly recently lotioned skin, the faux innocence, the vibes were just everything Trent would want. 

"I just want to make sure you don’t think of me only as Jack's sister." You met his eyes, holding his gaze as you whispered. The words hung in the air, a truth you'd wanted to tell him for a while figuring now while you had his attention would work.

"Trust me, he's the last thing I'm thinking about right now," Trent chuckled, still in awe, his eyes glued to you.

"I hope you’re not thinking about other girls while you’re away," you murmured almost as a test but simultaneously a tease running a hand slowly along your raised collarbone over to your shoulder, playing with the delicate strap of your bra as his breath visibly caught.

"Trust me, they're the last thing I'm thinking about," he repeated, his tone shifting, voice raw. “I don’t know who you’re even talking about, baby.” You could see it in his eyes-there was no one else he wanted right now. And that single, unspoken promise was all you needed to feel. “I don’t want any of that. You know that.I want you. Don’t play me, baby.” He smirked, his voice dropping, filled with a frustrated need that made your pulse quicken.

“I’m not playing.” You stretched out languidly, letting your voice drop to a purr. “Just thought you might like a little reminder of what’s back at home for you.” You told him. 

“Trust me, I don’t need one.” His voice softened, a hint of a smile in it now. “You’re all I think about. So don’t tease me like this. Oh my days, Y/N…” His eyes lit even more as the bra top was practically falling off. 

“Yeah?” you asked, feigning a nonchalant surprise. You could almost feel the tension through the phone. As you toyed with Trent, pulling down the thin strap of your bra, his breath hitched. The teasing, the slow build—it was intoxicating, leaving him hanging on every move you made. He was completely fixated as you gradually peeled away each item of clothing, your body on full display, leaning back against your bed, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile. His reaction was instant, a low groan escaping him.

"Oh my god," he breathed, raking a hand over his curls, unable to tear his eyes away. Just as you began to lower the phone whilst opening your legs. A shiver ran through you. Feeling bolder than ever with what you were about to do. 

"Hold on-my phone's about to d-” You glanced away from the camera, then, without warning, hung up, pretending the call had dropped. Your phone dead. The silence that followed was deafening on his end. For a moment, Trent just blinked, waiting for you to reappear, only to realize you weren't coming back. It dawned on him that you'd left him high and dry, and he almost laughed in disbelief but the strain in his jogger was excruciating. This wasn’t funny at all. Not to him. It wasn’t long before the messages began flooding your phone, his name lighting up your screen as he called again and again.

Trent was spinning out. He couldn’t believe that just happened. You settled back against the pillows, heart pounding as you watched the texts roll in. Your phone buzzed—one, two, three times in a row again and again. 

But then you turned it off though to play the part. Still, you laid there opting to grab your laptop  staring at his messages flood in with a smile. This felt good. It was so easy to believe him when you were together, to let yourself feel like the only girl on his mind. But alone, doubts crept in, filling the space he left behind. Still, you couldn’t deny the thrill of making him wait for once. He called but your phone was off or ‘dead’ in his mind. He prayed you’d fucking charge it now. He was desperate for you and only you. He was almost embarrassed he had called and texted so many times but he wanted you so badly but as time ticked on he knew this was not an accident, this was chess, Begrudgingly he took matters into his own hands literally.  Hours later, you finally responded to his barrage of messages, typing with a grin tugging at your lips. You had left him out to dry and you kind of loved the power switch.

You wrote, knowing very well he was the culprit who'd taken your charger in an effort to hide things from Jack the other day. Your message was cheeky and taunting, almost blaming him for why he didn't get to have the call continue. Really just hammering home that you knew what you were doing. You could practically feel his frustration through the screen as he replied, a flurry of texts that only made you smirk, still desperate for you. His handiwork would never match what you offered.. You had him exactly where you wanted him, and something told you he wouldn't let you get away with this so easily and you couldn't’ wait.

The anticipation had been building for a whole day after the call, ever since Trent's away game ended. You knew he'd be coming back to you straight away. You had teased him mercilessly during that facetime, flaunting your body and hinting at all the naughty things he could do to you when he returned. But then your phone died or you could also say well… you just hung up. His desperate pleas over texts only fueled your excitement, and you couldn't wait to have him back in your arms, and beneath you or under you. You didn’t care. Jack was out and you were in… and in and just in a tiny tank top and panties. As soon as Trent walked through the door, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with a mixture of desire and frustration. He strode purposefully towards your bedroom, just moving straight past you and straight to the point,  his broad shoulders exuding confidence and determination. You followed, unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. It was like he came in and didn’t need to say a thing because you knew he was frustrated. Not actually, just sexually and you liked it the build up. You had to fight back a giggle as you came into your room after him, plopping yourself on the bed. 

"Baby," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly as he stood in your room. You couldn’t read the inflection. It almost sounded like he was disappointed? Was he actually mad? Momentarily you were nervous but he looked so god damn sexy like this, hungry almost, you wanted to keep up your game just to see what would happen. You were lying on the bed, your hair cascading over the pillows, a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Did you miss me?" you teased, propping yourself up on your elbows, your tits straining against the thin fabric of your tank top. Trent's eyes darkened at the sight, his gaze flicking between your face and your exposed cleavage. "I'm tired, I won’t lie" you continued, feigning innocence. "You must be too from the flight. Maybe we can just catch up on some sleep tonight.” You knew you were being a tease, and the thought of driving him wild excited you even more. 

Then there was a shift in the room. He came over to you, his hand picked up your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“You’re not tired.” Trent growled, a low sound that sent shivers down your spine. He told you very matter of fact. "You've been so naughty, baby…teasing me like that," he said, his voice laced with a possessive edge. "You know how much I thought about you dressed like that in this bed alone in my hotel." A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as you realized the extent of your power over him. You'd left him with a constant ache, his cock throbbing and heavy with desire. But the shift in power was singly like a pendulum. Now back to you. 

"I know, baby," you cooed, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "But you like it when I'm a bad girl, don't you?" Trent's eyes blazed with passion as he grabbed your hand, pressing a heated kiss to your palm. 

"No, baby… I like when you’re a good girl f’me. And you've been a very bad girl, and I'm not having that," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re gonna be a good girl now. Right now. And I’m gonna take what's mine.” He said ferociously but steadily calm as he climbed onto the bed, straddling your waist, his hard muscles pressing into your soft curves. You gasped as his weight settled on you, his erection straining against his trousers, pressing into your core through the thin fabric of your panties. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing and kneading your tits through your top, causing your nipples to pebble in response. "You like being my good girl though, don't you, baby?" he growled, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You like it when I touch you, when I take what I want." You arched into his touch, your breath coming in short gasps. 

"Yeah huh, T," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. Your resolve crumbling, the game falling to pieces instantly.

“I know you do. And right now I want you.but you didn’t seem to want me…” he taunted, still teasing you. “ So beg.” He commanded.

 "I need you please. Please T… I’m sorry.” You whined. The tides turned so fast. The power dynamic has returned to where it was before. With a growl, he tore your top off, baring your tits to his hungry gaze. His mouth claimed one taut peak, sucking and nibbling, while his hand cupped the other, rolling and tugging gently. Your back arched off the bed further, offering yourself to him, your hands threading through his hair, urging him on.

"See? Such a good girl," he murmured between kisses, his hands now exploring your body, sliding down your stomach, tracing the waistband of your panties. "But….” He began and your heart skipped a beat. What did you get yourself into? “Can’t be acting like that. You've been so bad, baby. You’re not doing all that with me. I’m in charge, hmm?” He hummed. You whimpered as he hooked his fingers under the elastic, slowly sliding your panties down your thighs, exposing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. His eyes devoured you, taking in every detail of your swollen lips and the dampness between your thighs. "So wet for me. You like this, don’t you? Me in charge of you. In control." he growled, his voice thick with desire. You nodded. He was 1000% correct. You weren’t sure you’d ever been more turned on in your life. "You’re gonna take my cock now.” He shifted, positioning himself between your thighs, his cock straining against his trousers. With one swift motion, he ripped at the button and zipper, freeing his thick length. You moaned at the sight, your pussy clenching in anticipation.

"Please, baby. I want your cock. I’m so sorry," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need you inside me." He didn't make you wait long. You thought he’d draw out the teasing but neither of you could wait any longer. With one powerful thrust, he filled you, stretching and claiming you in one stroke. You cried out, your body welcoming him, your walls gripping and milking his length.the stretch was deliciously painful. You were so tight from minimal prep but god you were wet he just slid in.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as he began to move, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with fierce possessiveness. It was clear immediately this was going to be a rough fuck. "You're mine, baby. All mine." You wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. His hands gripped your hips, leaving marks on your skin as he pounded into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot with every stroke.

"You like it rough, don't you, baby?" he panted, his breath hot against your neck as he nibbled and sucked on the sensitive skin. "You want me to fuck you hard?" He asked with a smirk you could feel. “Gonna have you begging for more of me.” 

"Yes, please," you whimpered, your head thrown back, your body on fire. "I want it all. I want you to take me, own me." You’d never acted so submissive in your life. This was like an alternative universe only he could create. Trent obliged to your pleas eagerly, his movements becoming more primal, more demanding. Trent kept one hand on your hip guiding your movements but brought his other up your body, his hand wrapping around your neck, eyes pinned to yours. You gasped feeling his tip smashing against your cervix and orgasm barrelling towards you. But then he surprised you by letting go of your neck, slowing his pace ever so much so that the coil loosened in your stomach, the climax retreating momentarily. He was playing games with you. “You wanted to play with me, baby the other day? I’ll play with you.”  He taunted. He moved his hand off your neck and up to cup your cheek. Then swiftly he dragged his thumb across your lips. He slipped it into your mouth with ease as he pulled your mouth open by your bottom lip. He spit his saliva into your mouth and you swallowed diligently with a moan before he pushed his thumb all the way back in for you to suck on it like you would his cock. He groaned when your eyes began to flutter closed with a whine, simultaneously swirling your tongue around his finger. 

“Such a good girl f’me.” he gripped your chin looking longingly into your eyes. He loved everything about this. Being in control of you. You letting him control you. You wanting him to control you. He tucked his face in the nape of your neck. He nibbled on your sensitive skin. His hair tickling you. Hoarse grunts escaping him as you soaked him. He hit that spot deep inside you, only he knew.  All you could think about was the way he hit that spot again and again, continuously. He felt so good when he dropped his hand between you to rubbing your throbbing clit. He knew how to make you cum and he was going to do it well but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you. So he pulled out and  flipped you onto your stomach, throwing you around like a rag doll, positioning you on all fours, your ass raised high in the air, your back arched to perfection, presenting yourself to him. With a possessive growl, he smacked your ass, leaving a stinging imprint of his hand. "Why’d you have to act like such a naughty fucking girl, baby?" he whispered, his hot breath caressing your sensitive skin. But instead of a whine, you moaned in pleasure. You liked when he slapped your ass. "You like it when I punish you, don't you?" He smirked, mildly surprised that you were this down for him to have this much control. Obviously you knew each other well but in the bedroom you were still finding things out. 

"Yes," you moaned, your voice hoarse as you pushed back against him, inviting more because you knew more were coming. Trent’s hand rained down on your ass, slap after slap, again and again, leaving a symphony of slaps and marks that would remind you of his dominance. Finally once he felt it was sufficient he let a line of his spit fall onto your ass. He watched it run  down over your ass and into the folds of your pussy. His hands caressed the fat of your ass. 

"You've been a bad girl, teasing me," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Just gotta fuck it out of you now, yeah? Make you my good girl again." He cooed as he positioned himself behind you and began to tease you, dragging his leaking tip across the smooth skin of your ass before slipping it between your folds teasing your entrance. He slowly pushed his cock into your pussy without another word. You were completely drenched. You could feel yourself coat his length in your slick again and again as he drilled in and out of you. The recoil of your ass from his hard thrusts had Trent in pure heaven. God, it must’ve been a good 30 minutes of him just blowing your back out. 

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping the sheets as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against your ass, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. “I’m gonna c-.”  you cried out, your body trembling.

“No!” He commanded and you whined as he pulled out, halting it all. “You’re gonna keep taking my cock.” He told you as he slid back in and so you did. You kept taking him  “That's it, baby," he grunted, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with abandon. "Take it, take all of me." You cried out as he slammed into you, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your orgasm building, coiling tight in your core, every inch of your body alive with sensation.“ You’re mine, baby. Understand?” He said it was a seriousness and a harshness that made goosebumps arise on your skin. 

"I can’t… oh my fucking god. I'm gonna cum, T," you panted, your nails digging into the sheets as you fought for release. "I’m gonna cum, fuck– please." You whined. You moaned as your vision began to blur a little from how good it all felt.

"Not yet, baby," he growled, his voice rough. "You’re gonna keep taking me because I said so. You asked for this. I want you to feel me, feel every inch of me." He reached around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud as he continued to pound into you. Your moans filled the room, a mixture of pleasure and desperation.

"Please, T, oh my god," you begged, your body on the brink. "I need to cum. Please."

"Not until I say so," he commanded, his voice harsh. "You don't get to come until I'm ready to fill you up with my cum." His words sent a shockwave of desire through you, and you surrendered to his control, your body his to command. “You continued throwing your ass back as he fucked you relentlessly, his cock driving into your pussy with brutal force, his fingers working your clit with expert precision. "That's it, baby, let me see how much you want it," he grunted, his breath hot against your neck. "You're mine, every inch of you. I own this pussy. I get to decide when you cum.” After a few more strokes, that were gradually getting rougher you heard it, the command you’d be aching for. “Cum f’me baby. Cum now.” His words pushed you over the edge, and you exploded around him, your pussy clenching and milking his cock as you cried out his name. “Fuck, baby. Gonna cum, alright? Doing so good, baby.” He grunted as his thrusts became messy and unregulated before he came inside of you, filling you up to the brim.  his cock twitching and pulsing as he filled you with his hot release. You collapsed onto the bed, your body spent and satisfied. He gently pulled out of you but was quick to push his two fingers along with his leaking cum back inside you for a few moments longer. "You wanna cum again f’me, pretty girl?" He cooed.

“Oh fuck- oh my god.” You whined, body gone almost limp but craving more insatiably. His fingers easily sliding in and out of your pussy, finding that magical spot deep inside. He rubbed and pressed your clit as his fingers curled deeper from behind. You cried out, your body exploding in another mind-blowing orgasm. Trent smugly and quietly laughed not at you but just happy you were feeling so good. As your bodies calmed, Trent's softer side emerged as he gently rolled you onto your back, his eyes filled with love and adoration before he collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms. He kissed you tenderly, his hands stroking your hair, his touch now gentle and caring. He held you close, his strong arms offering comfort and protection. You could feel his heart pounding against you, and his breath was warm on your skin.

"My good girl," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Did so good f’me. You okay?”   You smiled, your heart full as you snuggled into his embrace, content in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. 

"I love being your good girl, T," you murmured, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. 

"You were more than that, baby. Honestly, that was fucking unreal," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I love making you feel good." You snuggled closer, your body still buzzing with pleasure. 

"That’s good because you make me feel amazing.” you tiredly giggled. “But…I do really like when you take control, baby," you confessed, your voice soft and sated. "It makes me feel so fucking… I don’t know wanted or something. I like knowing you want me like that.” You poorly explained in your post orgasmic haze. He chuckled, the sound low and warm. 

"I do want you, more than you know. And I promise, I'll always take care of you…. Especially after wanting you like that." He smirked. He gently caressed your hair, his touch tender and loving. "Let's clean you up, my pretty girl," he said, his voice filled with affection. He helped you into the shower, the warm water washing away the remnants of your passionate encounter. Trent's hands were gentle as he soaped your body, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through your tired limbs. You leaned into him, your body still limp from the intensity of your orgasms, but he held you close, his strong arms offering relentless support. There was a physical and emotional feeling of warmth with him. He just wanted to wrap around you and keep you with him all the time. He was completely consumed by the thought. Seeing you so fragile after sex just sent a feeling alight inside he didn’t quite no how to label. 

"You're so good to me, T," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. He’d always taken care of you but now it was different… so different, so intimate and you both were recognizing it. He kissed the top of your head, his lips soft against your hair. 

"I will always take care of you, baby. I always have, I always will." He cooed as the water washed away the sweat and passion of your lovemaking, Trent's gentle care and adoration filled the void, leaving you feeling cherished and adored. You knew in that moment that this was more than just physical attraction. It was a deep, profound connection, but one you craved beyond the boundaries of the bedroom. 

That next morning was a slow, honeyed glow, filtering through the curtains and casting a soft light over the room. The world felt paused, as if the universe had frozen to let you both linger in this quiet perfection a little longer. The warmth of Trent’s skin was the only anchor you needed, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby against your cheek as you lay entwined, tangled together under the weight of the blankets and something far deeper. He shifted slightly, his body moving with that half-conscious care to keep you close, and you felt his breath stir your hair, a sigh caught somewhere between sleep and waking. As he moved, you instinctively tightened your hold, pressing yourself closer, unwilling to let him slip even an inch away. 

“MmNmm,” you murmured, a soft, sleepy protest as you shook your head against his chest, feeling the rumble of his chuckle in response.

“Nah, course not,” he laughed at you, his voice still heavy with sleep, But he was only teasing, he was loving that you didn’t want him to move. He lent down, pressing his lips to the top of your head in a lingering kiss, his breath warm against your hair. His hand drifted down your back, tracing gentle patterns, like he was memorizing every inch of you. “My pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice a tender whisper, more to himself than to you, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. The sound of his words washed over you, filling you with a warmth that went beyond the touch of his skin. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he gazed down at you, his expression so soft and open, filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face with a gentle hand, his fingers lingering, tracing the curve of your cheek as if you were something precious, something fragile. “Nah you’re actually so gorgeous, baby,” he cooed, a little smile playing on his lips as his thumb brushed your cheek. He studied you, his eyes tracing every detail of your face as if he were afraid he’d wake up and find this had all been a dream. His other hand slipped around your waist, pulling you even closer, holding you like he’d never let you go.  You couldn’t help but sleepily smile, your own hands finding their way to his, fingers lacing together as you pulled his arm around you, tucking yourself against him. “Can’t believe I finally have you with me,” he whispered, almost like he was speaking to himself, his voice tinged with wonder and something deeper, something vulnerable. You didn’t need to say anything; words felt unnecessary in the soft, stolen space between you. Instead, you pressed a gentle kiss to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips, letting the silence say everything that you couldn’t. 

“You feel like a dream sometimes.” After a while, you finally spoke up when something other than sheer bliss came into your head. His arms tightened around you, his thumb gently stroking your side, sending a shiver through you that made you feel acutely, blissfully alive. He tilted your chin up, his lips meeting yours in a soft, unhurried kiss, so full of affection it left you breathless. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your face as he held you there, his gaze deep and intent. 

“You’ve been my dream,” he murmured softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. You felt his fingers run through your hair, tucking it behind your ear with the same careful attention, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to trace slow circles on your back. He rested his forehead against yours, his breathing soft and steady, and for a moment, you both stayed there, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. The morning stretched on, time losing meaning as you lay there, cocooned in each other’s arms. The world outside could wait; for now, all that mattered was the quiet perfection of this moment, of being held, of being seen, of feeling his heart beat in time with yours. It was a feeling you wanted to hold on to forever, a softness that seemed to live only in the rare, untouched hours of early morning.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 8 - Caught in The Kitchen, Hidden in The Bathroom xx

[shadowqueenjude]

The most disturbing things portrayed in ACOTAR

Victim-blaming: Lucien tries to help Feyre and gets physically abused by Tamlin as a result. Feyre then proceeds to call him a dog despite Lucien doing everything he could in a difficult situation. And we're supposed to...support Feyre on this? And Rhysand throws around words like "can never forgive" man stfu you prick.

Sexual Assault: The most disturbing thing is not that Rhysand sexually assaulted Feyre. It's that he's never held accountable for this and never even apologizes at ANY point in the series. There are so many examples but this is the one that is the most disturbing.

Double Standards: We have Tamlin locking Feyre up for her own good being vilified, yet Rhysand is championed for locking Lucien and Nesta up in houses for their own good. Huh? WTF.

War Crimes: What Feyre did to the Spring Court, manipulating the sentries with the whole Ianthe thing and basically getting them killed, then weakening the Spring Court rulership which resulted in all those villagers in the Spring Court getting killed, then laying the Summer Court bare to Hybern as well, are nothing short of war crimes. And...instead of feeling regret, we have the main characters saying "Hybern's actions are their own." Like bitch what? Hybern wouldn't have been able to do shit if it wasn't for you! Have some damn accountability! And the fact that Tamlin and Tarquin are vilified for this never ceases to irk me.

Grooming: Rhysand groomed Feyre. He made excuses for everything he did with trauma, then sent Feyre out to do tasks for him like she's some kind of weapon he can use. WITHOUT giving her proper information, there is no choice. And everything he does is constantly explained away, until eventually Feyre becomes his trophy wife. Rhysand basically assigns Cassian to do the same for Nesta. I'm holding out hope that Elain will be saved from the Night Court.

The pregnancy debacle: the whole thing with the baby having wings and Rhysand withholding information from Feyre is just...disturbing. Idc if you're not telling her FoR hEr OwN gOoD, it is HER life at stake and she deserves to know. They didn't even try to shapeshift her to try and save her life? Like why is everybody seemingly more concerned about the baby than the mother? Disgusting. And why is Nesta vilified for being the only one to tell Feyre? She said it to hurt her, blah blah blah. She also wanted to show Feyre that their situations are similar. That they're BOTH being shit on by the Night Court. And when she's close to a breaking point...Nesta is forced to hike a mountain? That is physical abuse. Also, Rhysand being extremely territorial putting a shield over her and barely letting Feyre go anywhere is beyond weird.

Suicide baiting: What Rhysand did to Tamlin in ACOFAS is nothing short of suicide baiting. And...only Lucien seems to really be that concerned about it? Like...are you telling me I'm supposed to be supporting Rhysand after he basically told a depressed male to kill himself?

Segregation: Separating the Hewn City from Velaris IS segregation, no matter what excuse you try to come up with. You can't claim they're all shitty people, since your bestie Mor comes from the CoN. So, there are good people stuck in the CoN unable to get out of their torment because Rhysand decided that only certain individuals are allowed in Velaris.

Performance Feminism: Establishing laws to help women and not doing shit to enforce them is performance feminism. If he's as powerful as he says, he can 100% stop wing-cutting and r*pe. But, he's a goddamn virtue signaler so he doesn't fucking care. The thing is, SJM could've handled these topics in a much better way and it would've been fine. But she completely fucked shit up here and it's crazy that some people don't see it. Part of me is still waiting for the final book where she says, psych rhysand was the villain the whole time. If so, I'll take everything back.

[luna-the-moth]

So the Azul porn audio posts are just…. 👌🤌 I wonder you think Idia would be in a similar situation if it was his crush doing audio porn? And if so how would he react/would do?

Idia with a reader who makes audio porn

Heya nonnie! Thanks for sending in this ask <3 lowkey when i was first thinking ab the azul audio porn blurbs i thought of idia so im excited >:3

Gn! Reader, 18+, sub! idia

Similar to azul, i don’t think he’s really one for audio porn that goes straight into sex- he needs a bit of emotional investment beforehand (unless the VA does a convincing impression of one of his favorite characters).

Definitely prefers audios where he’s being praised and rivals-to-lovers audio (the thought of someone challenging him and being able to match him bar for bar…it  drives him crazy).

I will say that given his shut-in nature, you probably know him via games you’ve played together. idia’s pretty shy about his face, but if you’re skilled (and socially aggressive) enough, chances are you’ve been in calls together, whether it be for raids or otherwise

While most of your conversations end up revolving around gameplay or opinions on the latest character, Idia can’t help but find himself thinking about you rather than your abilities after you hang up for the night.

He tries to be nonchalant about it- sending you links to merch of that one character you like, fanart, etc. but really he can’t help but feel a smug swell of satisfaction when you react with excitement. 

After stumbling upon an audio impersonating the character you main, Idia can’t help but wonder— was that the type of person you were into? Idia knows that one’s taste in fictional characters doesn’t equate your taste IRL, but still…

He ends up going down a rabbit hole at that point, skimming past dozens of audios until he finds one titled: “Challenging Your Rival To a PvP”

Huh. 

The list of kinks following the title are perfect for him so…he may as well take a break….

Fingers ghosting the front of his boxers, he settles back into his chair before clicking “Resume.”

“Can’t get enough of me, hm?”

The reflection of himself from the monitor flares a bright pink and he quickly closes the tab. 

No way. A sense of betrayal worms its way to the forefront of his mind as he rapidly shuffles through past conversations, searching for the faintest trace of a clue. 

Realistically, Idia knows he’s not entitled to know these types of details about your life. 

But as he cautiously re-opens the tab with your audio and listens to the rest of your audio, he can’t help but think about how this reflects your “rivalry” with him.

Your “performing” voice is slightly different, but the language patterns and reactions are the exact same. Did you write this script yourself? Given how particular you can be when gaming, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had, at the very least, tailored the script to suit your personal style. 

He wonders if you think about him when you record these too. It’s not a coincidence a fair share of your audios involve you playing the role of a rival or challenger, right? 

He would never confront you with this. He knows he won’t. 

But if you start noticing him reciting phrases of your own work back to you in the middle of a match, it’s probably a coincidence. Probably.

If you'd like to hear more, feel free to drop in my inbox!

[calliecopper]

Ian Gallagher Being His Own Person, and Why That's Controversial

A meta about Ian's story during his time away from Mickey, and the hate his character receives for it. Inspired by @dazzle02 :)

How many times have you heard somebody say that they skipped season 8 of Shameless because Mickey wasn't in it? How many times have you heard somebody say that season 7 is only good during Mickey's episodes, or that the story is boring without Mickey in it, or that Ian's S6-8 arc was boring without Mickey? How many times have you heard somebody proclaim that Ian wasn't a good partner to Mickey?

Mickey is undeniably THE fan favorite character of the show, and with that comes a tendency for fans to defend him tooth and nail, even when he is in the wrong, and refuse to see any other points of view. Characters who go against Mickey in any way receive a harsh amount of criticism that sometimes is not fully justified. This applies even to Mickey's main connection to the story: Ian.

During season 5 and onward, some fans hold Ian's actions against him very harshly when I feel he deserves a bit more empathy. Of these, there are three main things people criticize his character for during seasons 5, 6, and 7 that I feel are not given proper analysis and thought by fandom.

Disclaimer before we get in because people feel very passionately about these two: Every interpretation of a character is entirely unique to each individual viewer, and these are just my opinions. This is in no way an anti-Mickey post, so as you read, keep in mind that any criticism toward him is not meant to make him out to be a bad character. Don't bite me.

Season Five: The Breakup of All Time

I think a large part of why people get so upset with Ian for the breakup is because of the growth Mickey experienced in seasons 4-5 leading up to it.

Mickey in seasons 1-3 is in extreme denial of being gay, and when he grows feelings for Ian, he lashes out and treats Ian like shit. Seeing Mickey's slow growth starting in season 3 brought interest to his character, and in season 4 with his major growth during his coming out, he becomes very compelling to a viewer. After all the angst that it took to get Mickey to finally open up, there's a natural desire to see that positive growth and relationship development continue. When Ian throws a wrench in that by breaking up with Mickey in season 5, people get upset, and they're going to direct that toward Ian because he is the easiest to blame.

There's the sentiment of, "Mickey came out for Ian, took care of Ian, and supported Ian when he needed him most despite his faults. Why is Ian leaving Mickey in the dust when he now needs him most?"

This is honestly not an unreasonable thing to feel when looking at things from Mickey's perspective.

But, when you take a look at Ian's character, and you really think of his motivations in that moment, his decision to break up is actually very understandable. Ian didn't break up with Mickey because he thinks Mickey is a bad partner or because he doesn't love Mickey enough. He broke up with Mickey because he thought that's what was best FOR Mickey.

I think comparing the breakup to their fight over marriage in season 10 to be an effective way to understand Ian better.

In season 10:

"How do you know you love me? Huh? How do you really know? I'm bipolar, right? I don't know who I am from one day to the next, and I can't guarantee shit. So why do you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?"

- Ian to Mickey, S10E9

Compare this to this conversation during the breakup:

"You used to love me. Now you don't even know who I am. Shit, I don't know who I am half the time... You don't owe me anything."

"I love you."

"The Hell does that even mean?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12

I feel that Ian's mindset is pretty similar in these two moments. In season 5, he is still grappling with his diagnosis, and he has no frame of reference of how a healthy life with bipolar can look. Everybody has been comparing him to Monica, and he himself seems to oscillate between thinking he is like her and not like her, so in his mind, he has nothing to offer anymore.

Then, in season 10, in his mind he proved himself right. He tried to get his shit in order, lived happily and found peace with his diagnosis, and then he fucked it up. He had an episode, and he lost everything he fought so hard to have. He has practically ruined his life because he DID what he FEARED he would:

"I hate the meds. You gonna make me take 'em?"

"You get fucking nuts when you don't."

"Are you gonna want to be with me even if I don't?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12

That conversation isn't Ian saying he isn't going to take his meds, given how in season six, he IS taking his meds. I interpret his above statement to be a warning to Mickey. Because Monica has tried to get on her meds before, has tried to get better, and has failed many times. IAN has gone off his meds willingly twice now. This is him telling Mickey, straightforward, "I do not like the meds, and there will always be a risk of me deciding not to take them."

And in seasons 8-9, he does exactly that. He goes off his meds, and he destroys everything he built for himself. That's part of the reason why he hesitates to marry Mickey in season 10, and part of the reason he breaks up with Mickey in season 5.

Ian views himself and his disorder to be a burden on the people he loves. He believes that Mickey will be better off without him.

"I don't want you sitting around, worrying, watching me, waiting for me to do my next crazy shit."

- Ian to Mickey, S5E12

Because Mickey HAS been doing that. Ever since he was diagnosed, Mickey has been watching Ian like a hawk, acting like a nurse, which frustrates Ian.

"Fuckin' nurse now?"

[...]

"I'm sick of your whiny, pussy crap. I don't need a fucking caretaker, alright? I need the shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of Southside trash I fell for. Where is he? The fuck is he, Mickey?"

- Ian to Mickey, S5E10

But, of course, Mickey doesn't see it that way. To Mickey, Ian is anything but a burden he wants to unload.

"It means we take care of each other. [...] It means thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness, health, all that shit."

- Mickey to Ian, S5E12.

Mickey would do anything for Ian. He confronted his worst fear by coming out, stayed with Ian even after the infidelity, defended Ian after he kidnapped his son, and tried his best to understand a mental illness he had no prior knowledge about. Yet, Ian still won't commit to him. After everything, he still isn't good enough.

"I'm not saying never!"

"No, you're just saying you don't love me enough now."

- Ian and Mickey, S10E9

And Ian, meanwhile, thinks that HE isn't good enough for MICKEY. He has been diagnosed with a lifelong condition, one that he has seen ruin lives firsthand, something that will be a part of him for the rest of his life, and he doesn't wanna tie Mickey down to that life.

It's all one massive miscommunication.

Finally, I think the part that is the most confusing to fans regarding Ian's mindset during the breakup stems from his moments with Monica in S5E11 and S5E12.

Specifically, the parallels between these two conversations.

"Ian, there's always gonna be people that are gonna try and fix us. And you can never make those people happy. Like it breaks their heart just to look at you."

"Yeah, um, even Mickey now."

"He's your boyfriend, right? [...] I'm sure he means well, but you need to be with people who accept you for who you are. And they're out there. You should never apologize for being you."

- Monica and Ian, S5E11.

Vs.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Too much! Too much is wrong with me. That's the problem, isn't it? Too much is wrong with me, and you can't do anything about that. You can't change it. You can't fix me, 'cause I'm not broken. I don't need to be fixed, okay? I'm me!"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E12.

Monica's interpretation of the relationship seems to paint Mickey in a negative light. "He means well, but he doesn't get it," or something along those lines. Based on her previous experiences with the diagnosis, she has come to the conclusion that people like Mickey or Fiona, who try to get them to take medication and are saddened by the diagnosis, are being controlling, and do not love them for who they really are. That's why she always went back to Frank; he actively tried to get her to NOT take her meds or get better, and did not encourage her when she DID try to get better. So, to her, being off her meds IS the TRUE version of herself, and the people who can not accept that do not accept her.

But I think, while Ian's lines parallel Monica's, that he does not think the same way that she does.

Toward the end of season 5, Ian seems to do a complete 180 from his previous statements on his similarities with Monica.

"You flushed your pills? You get thats a full-on Monica move, right?"

"I'm not Monica."

- Ian and Fiona, S5E8

Vs.

" [...] Cause they all say how alike we are."

"That's probably not a compliment."

"Uh... No, I think it is."

- Ian and Monica, S5E11

This happens in the wake of his arrest, after Ian's siblings talk about him to the military police. Many of their comments seem to hit Ian in a way that makes him feel misunderstood or like a burden.

Debbie: But he's been acting crazier for longer than that.

Lip: Yeah, at least this past year.

Officer: How would you characterize his behavior?

Debbie: Compared to how he used to be... He's different.

Lip: He'll go back and forth from, you know, being depressed, to, you know, incredibly wound up. I mean, he ran off with a baby for no reason.

Debbie: He almost hit me in the head with a baseball bat.

Fiona: Our mother was bipolar, so we know what it looks like. She put us through Hell, and- I'm not saying you put us through Hell, but when they're manic they can be destructive.

Officer: In your opinion, does he require medication?

Fiona: Yes.

Officer: Is he unable to care for himself?

Fiona: Sometimes, yes.

So, when Ian talks to Monica when they reconnect, Ian expresses loneliness and a feeling of isolation.

"I'm really glad you came, yknow? I just... I needed someone to talk to who... gets it."

- Ian to Monica, S5E11

When Monica tells Ian to not be ashamed and that she loves him for him, she is kind of acting like his Frank. The meds have been taking a toll, and recovery is so difficult that running with her and getting validation from the only other person who could "get it" is an easy choice to make. I think the combined factors of Mickey treating him so delicately, his siblings laying out his flaws so plainly, and his mother's open acceptance creates a feeling of bitterness or shame, and Ian is hoping to find comfort in his mother.

But it doesn't go the way he expects it to.

At the diner, he thinks that Monica is going to prostitute herself for money, and is relieved when she doesn't. It's likely he was thinking of his own stint at the Fairytale in this moment.

Then, he recalls a moment from his childhood that he does not look upon fondly, only for Monica to refer to it as "good times."

He meets Monica's partner and discovers he is an aggressive teenage meth dealer that she is helping to sell the meth.

I think Ian has a true moment of clarity during this. He had thought that he was vindicated, that everybody else was wrong, that they didn't understand, that Monica was right, and that he was perfectly fine just the way he was. But then he sees what Monica considers to be "a happy life."

"Ian, I'm finally happy. People like us, we can be happy. I love him, and that's the most important thing, to find somebody to love, right? Who loves you back for who you are. I want that for you. I love you. We're gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay."

- Monica to Ian, S5E12.

Monica's perception of life is warped. What she considers a good life is living in a trailer selling meth. Good memories are traumatic memories for those around her. True love and support is an aggressive teenage dealer, or Frank Gallagher.

A simple drive to Ian was a horrifying kidnapping to Svetlana. Doing a porn that was no big deal to Ian was a betrayal of trust to Mickey. Joining Monica and ignoring the calls of his well-meaning but ignorant family to Ian was a painful and worrisome disappearance to them. Ian's perception HAS been warped, and he's crashing back to reality, realizing that he has run off with MONICA, realizing that he can't continue down the same path as her, and needs to go home.

He's come to accept that he is bipolar. He's internalized what his family has kept repeating, that he is just like Monica, and looking at her living like this, believing that she is living well, is terrifying to him.

So he goes home, believing that he is just like his mother, and he's doomed to be a piece of shit. He goes back, and he breaks up with Mickey. Because he doesn't think that people like him can be happy, and he doesn't think he'll be okay. And that isn't something that Mickey can change. Too much is wrong with him, and Mickey can't do anything about it.

Really, it's just a matter of Ian operating under the "if you love them, let them go" mindset, and Mickey interpreting it as a rejection. It's the two of them both believing they are not good enough for the other and internalizing it instead of properly communicating.

TL;DR: Ian's breakup with Mickey in S5E12 is not done in a healthy OR selfish mindset. To him, he will do nothing but drag Mickey down, and in his unmedicated and clearly altered state of mind, he thinks the best thing is to let him go.

Season Six: Dating Caleb and Other Blasphemy

The first time we see Mickey in season six, it's behind a pane of glass in an orange jumpsuit.

Mickey had tried to murder Sammi, Ian's half-sister, and had been sentenced to prison for 15 years. It's established that Ian has not been to visit Mickey much and is trying to move on past that time in his life. But, upon being bribed by Svetlana, Ian visits, and during this visit Mickey asks Ian a question:

"You gonna wait for me?" - Mickey to Ian, S6E1.

And when Ian shows hesitation:

"Fuckin' lie if you have to, man, eight years is a long time." - Mickey to Ian, S6E1.

So, Ian replies:

"Yeah. Yeah, Mick, I'll wait." - Ian to Mickey, S6E1.

Before even meeting Caleb, fans absolutely tear into Ian for his decision to not commit to Mickey in this moment. They call it selfish, or out of character, or unfair to ice Mickey out when he is going through this difficult time.

But, let's look at it from Ian's position.

Ian has dealt with abandonment issues his entire life, with both Monica and Frank being unstable and infrequent providers during his adolescence. Throughout his relationship with Mickey, they had been separated on three separate occasions, one of which was entirely voluntary on Mickey's part. Now, due to committing a major crime, Mickey has been sent away for up to fifteen years. They would both be in their thirties by the time Mickey would be released, or close to it if he got out early, and that's not even considering that he was actively taking part in jobs / activities that could extend his sentence, like stabbing people.

Ian has dealt with recurring disappointment and abandonment his entire life, and throughout their time together, Mickey hasn't really established himself as stable.

Now, before you bring out the pitchforks;

"But Mickey was there for Ian and supported him through seasons 4-5. He grew as a person and proved he IS reliable."

Yes, that's true. He did undergo massive development that allowed him to be a better partner and more reliable person to Ian. But, canonically that period of time only takes place over a few months.

Mickey, for the better part of 2-3 years, was NOT a good partner to Ian. Multiple years of an unsteady situationship is not so easily forgotten. Yes, Mickey 1000% had valid reasons for acting the way he did. It's made very clear in S3E6 and S4E11 why Mickey hides his sexuality and lashes out when forced to confront it. But that isn't an excuse. His reasons for acting in a negative way towards Ian the first three seasons is understandable, but he went about it in a bad way.

Not to mention that, despite his growth, Mickey has just been sent to PRISON. No matter how you spin it, his decision to go after Sammi was NOT justified and does not necessarily bring forth confidence in his reliability and stability.

It's not unreasonable for Ian to not want to wait for over a decade for a man who has not always been the best for him. It sucks as a viewer who is invested in them, but Ian was not in the wrong.

Beyond (justifiably) selfish reasons, Ian also already thought that he was bad for Mickey, was worried that he would ruin his life, and with Mickey's justification for his torture attempt being that he did it FOR Ian, that Sammi had it coming because of what she did TO Ian, Ian probably felt responsible for that as well. There was probably a level of guilt in Ian from the whole situation, both for Mickey being in prison and for leaving him there.

But from his point of view, it's better for everybody to try and move on.

What really bothers me about this criticism toward Ian is the sense that he OWED Mickey his time and loyalty. Because Mickey had given and sacrificed so much for Ian during seasons 4-5, it's like people think Ian is then obligated to return that for Mickey, no matter what Mickey did. It's a very transactional way to view the situation, and it just leaves me with an icky taste in my mouth. Nobody owes anybody anything in that situation. Ian does not owe Mickey companionship, and Mickey did not owe Ian support when he got put in prison in season 9. Returning to Ian was Mickey's decision to make, and not a decision Ian was obligated to make in season 6.

Now, onto the actual "dating other people" part of the conversation.

For months, Ian has done nothing but get his meds on track while working at Patsy's, then at the janitors job on Lip's campus. During this time, Ian expresses having a very low sense of self-worth.

"He as smart as you?"

"No."

"Yeah, he's smart."

"Lip is the genuis of the family."

"So that gives you an excuse for not finishing [high school]? You seem plenty smart, and Dav's uniform doesn't really suit you."

- Ian, Lip, and Professor Youens, S6E3

And:

"This is it for me, Lip. This job. This is where I land."

- Ian to Lip, S6E3

Which Lip comments on in a very concise way:

"Yknow, he thinks... Being bipolar means he's doomed to be a piece of shit like our mother."

- Lip about Ian, S6E3

Ian feels no sense of purpose during these months. He feels he has no worth and that he is doomed to work a dead-end job and have no happiness. He thinks he is just like Monica.

That only changes when he witnesses an accident on the highway, and he saves a woman's life by pulling her out of a burning car.

This leads us to Caleb.

Now I'll admit, this is where I take issue with the storytelling, because this would've been a PERFECT way to segue into Ian's EMT arc, but regardless of what I personally think would've been better, the way it plays out in canon does actually still make sense for Ian's character.

After saving the woman from the burning car, Ian collapses due to smoke inhalation and exhaustion. A firefighter on the scene provides Ian with oxygen, thus saving his life. Ian immediately fixates on this particular firefighter.

Now, Ian has a very complicated relationship with feeling his emotions post his diagnosis. In season five, when he is numbed by his meds, the only way for him to feel again is through pain, via self-harm or starting physical fights, and sex. In fact, sex plays a major part in many aspects of Ian's life.

From the age of fifteen, Ian had been consistently subject to sexual abuse. He's been used for his body by countless men throughout his teenage years and has been oftentimes reduced merely to his sexuality and what he can provide to his partner. Even Mickey, in season 2, tells Ian as such in a panicked rage.

"You think we're boyfriend and girlfriend here? You're nothing but a warm mouth to me."

- Mickey to Ian, S2E8.

(No, I'm not saying Mickey sexually abused Ian. But he did contribute to the way we see Ian default so heavily to objectifying and sexualizing himself.)

So, due to this recurring trauma, Ian has a tendency to default to sex as the primary way of getting satisfaction, be it emotional or physical.

So, when Ian gets a rush of adrenaline from the crash, after months of that numbness, he chases the emotions in the most effective way he knows how.

Ian goes to the firehouse with cookies to give as thanks to the firefighter who saved him, but with a clear ulterior motive of getting laid. When he finds out that the particular firefighter (who happens to be part of the "gay shift" which is an odd writing choice) he saw on the highway is married, Ian meets Caleb. In this scene, they speak all of one line to each other when Caleb invites Ian to a firehouse softball game. The next time we see them on screen together, Ian acts very flirtatious toward Caleb, which sets forth their relationship.

"You ever pitch?"

"... Usually, but I'm open depending on what you're into. Where we doing this?"

"Follow me."

[...]

"Wait, we're actually playing softball?"

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5

I think Ian receives hate for this simply because he's expressing interest in a guy that isn't Mickey. Fans get the impression that Ian is moving on too fast or that his interest in Caleb is sudden or rushed. However, I think the rushed nature actually works to show Ian's intentions. In this moment, Ian is not really looking for a full-on relationship. Given how little they interacted thus far, the fact that Caleb wasn't even who Ian was originally interested in, and how Ian's comments consistently err on the side of sexual, its safe to say Ian was just looking for a hookup. In fact, it's Caleb who pushes so hard FOR the relationship.

Mickey, in a deleted scene, hooks up with an inmate right after talking with Ian. If Ian's relationship with Caleb had only been a fling or hookup, I don't think Ian would've been as heavily criticized. As it is, fans get upset at this relationship because it IS a relationship. They go on dates, Ian starts staying with Caleb, and really they seem to be very domestic.

But I don't think Ian was as dedicated to the relationship with Caleb as fans make him out to be.

From the jump, Ian seems uncomfortable with the quick-moving pace of it. At first he only seems interested in sex with Caleb, but upon the negative reaction that provokes, Ian conceded to going on a date with Caleb (which is a bit of a slap in the face to Mickey fans after Gallavich's ruined date.)

"[...] I was hoping to get my hands on your hose."

"Is that what this is to you? A fuck?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing. Come on, let's get out of here."

"No. I knew you were younger than me, but I thought you were a grown-up."

"Fuck. Okay. Okay. Hey, I'm into you, alright? I thought you were into me."

"I am."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't stick my dick in just any guy."

"What do you want, then?"

"Seriously? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah."

"A date."

"With, like, flowers and chocolate and shit?"

"No, we could skip the flowers."

"Okay. You're on."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5

(Side note, pulling a "is that all this is to you" after two non-romantic interactions is not just quick in terms of hookup culture, which Ian is more attuned to, but is quick in any terms. More on that later.)

During this date, Ian is visibly very uncomfortable. Some would chalk this up to him having never been on a date before, and the writing even seems to imply that,

"Okay, look, I have no idea what I'm doing. My last boyfriend wasn't much of a talker, his idea of a conversation was to insult me a bunch and then punch me right before we banged."

- Ian to Caleb, S6E6

but that's actually not true, DESPITE the writers forgetting that.

"You know, Mickey and I never went out on dates. Ned never took me out, Kash and I fucked in the back of a convenience store, and I don't think jerking off strangers in a nightclub counts, so..."

- Ian to Lip, S6E6.

He actually HAD gone out on a "date" with Ned in season three, where he was visibly less uncomfortable than on his date with Caleb. He also went to many loft parties during his time dancing at the club, wherein he blended in very well and was able to sorta chameleon himself with the northside crowd. I think the show wants us to believe his discomfort is from him "never having been on a date before" or being unfamiliar with a "slower" pace, but I think his discomfort actually would stem from him just genuinely not being interested in Caleb in a romantic way, and thus feeling awkward on a date that's in a more romantic setting (compared to his one with Ned, which was undoubtedly more sexual.)

I also think his discomfort stems from being completely out of his element. Ian has taken a massive hit to his confidence since his diagnosis, so his Southside roots bring about a bit more hesitancy in him than it might have before, and he may be less confident in his ability to chameleon. That's why, during the date, Ian shows discomfort with Caleb when he shows more "class" than Ian.

"Usually, I get a bunch of apps to share. You good with that?"

"[Uncertain hum] ... Appetizers! Sure, yeah, big- big fan of apps."

[...]

"You seem like a very pensive kinda guy. You an only child?"

"Uh, no."

"Brothers and sisters?"

"A bunch, yeah."

"Older or younger?"

"Both."

"What about your parents? Both still alive?"

"... Yeah."

"... Fantastic. I'm learning so much."

[...]

"Where I'm from, people communicate with their fists."

"Where's that?"

"Southside."

"Mmm. Hands of steel. Okay, so you're a street rat. A brawler."

"Is that a problem?"

"Only if you make it one."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6.

Then, beyond their first date, we have the actual relationship to dive into.

Throughout his scenes with Caleb, Ian seems to oscillate between neutrality, discomfort, or mild enjoyment in the situations he finds himself in.

There's this interaction, for example, where Ian lets Caleb take charge in defining their relationship:

"So what are we doing?"

"Whatever you want, I guess."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E7.

Or this moment:

"What are you smiling at?"

"I like having you over here. What are you smiling at?"

"I like having a purpose."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E8.

Or when Caleb invites Ian out with his friends, and we see Ian slip into his chameleon persona, mirroring the petty mannerisms of the most vocal participant of the conversation, as well as avoiding diving too much into his personal history.

"You haven't told me which one is your ex."

"Guess."

"Old guy, pink sweater."

"How'd you know?"

"Ooh, a redhead, Caleb? Does his carpet match his drapes?"

"You're a good sport."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E8.

[...]

"If we had known you were bringing a middle school student, Caleb, we wouldn't have come to a place that cards."

"Oh, no, it's cool, I don't drink. I hear it makes your skin old and leathery."

"That's-that's how we're playing this?"

"Hey, you threw down first."

"Where you from, kid?"

"Back of the Yards."

"Local boy. What's your story?"

"Story?"

"Who you are, what you do, how did you meet this chocolate bundt cake?"

"Met him at the firehouse."

- Ian and Gregory, S6E8

[...]

"We like this one, Caleb. Don't we, Gregory?"

"I mean, If young, beautiful, and kind of a smartass is something to like, sure, fine, I guess we do."

- Caleb's friends about Ian, S6E8.

OR, in a deleted scene where Caleb expresses frustration at Ian keeping the distance between him and Ian's family, as well as Ian's lack of communication, while Ian seems unbothered or even perplexed by Caleb's frustration.

"So, where'd you sleep last night?"

"Home. Got done at three, told you I'd be late."

"Yeah, like nighttime late, not next day late."

"Well, I didn't wanna wake you, and I had to go back there to grab some stuff: clothes, towels..."

"Where's there?"

"Home, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Back of the Yards."

"Right. You did mention that once. I still don't know where it is or who I'd call if there was an emergency?"

"Uh... my brother, I guess? Or my sister."

"Brother or sister. Okay. I'll just track down Ian Gallagher's brother or sister on the internet."

"I'll... put their numbers in your phone."

"Great."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E11 deleted scene.

OR any of the follwing:

When they go to get Ian tested for STDs, he is visibly uncomfortable having Caleb in the room with him.

He is only comfortable revealing his bipolar disorder if it is done in exchange for another secret from Caleb.

He isn't very comfortable sharing his past, only references his previous relationship in a lighthearted manner, and he only reveals his sexual history upon feeling pressured to do so, which he purposefully presents in a callous way.

To me, the entirety of Ian and Caleb's relationship reads as Ian's desperation for validation through sex, which leads to him putting up with a relationship he isn't entirely comfortable in or commited to or ready for. To me, it seems like he's truly just looking for companionship in any way he can get it.

Out of everything, though, I think what really gets to fans most about this storyline is the constant comparison of Caleb to Mickey as a means of demonizing Mickey.

Throughout the entirety of Ian and Caleb's relationship, there is a constant comparison between the two relationships, seemingly with the intent of painting Mickey as a horrible partner.

When Ian tells Lip about his upcoming date with Caleb, he remarks that he never went on dates with Mickey, which comes off as an unnecessary jab.

During his date with Caleb, Ian talks about his lack of effective communication skills, which reflects negatively on Mickey, to the point Caleb brings forward the idea of domestic abuse.

During the wedding that Ian attends with Caleb, Ian mentions Mickey's marriage to Svetlana, and he uses a tone that comes off as belittling the situation and how difficult it was for Mickey.

There's this line, when Caleb asks Ian to kiss for the first time:

"Can I kiss you?"

"I thought kissing comes after you've had sex a bunch of times."

"Ian, kissing comes whenever you want it to. Even now."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6.

Then, there's Mandy stating that Caleb was better than Mickey.

"A hot black fireman. Also an artist."

"Upgrade from my brother."

"I miss Mickey, but uh... This new guy's nice."

- Ian and Mandy, S6E9

These near constant comparisons to Mickey are frustrating to fans, because it can often feel like Ian, or even just the writers and the narrative, are trying to belittle Mickey's character and reduce him to a one-note toxic ex, which completely spits in the face of the development that he went through. THAT is what is most frustrating to fans.

Because it's true that Mickey was not always the best partner. In real life, Mickey would be a walking red flag, and Gallavich would be undeniably toxic. But that applies to EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER in Shameless. That is the entire point of the show. None of them are particularly good people. They all do shitty things, but they all have compelling reasons for doing it. That's why we can look at these characters and feel connected to them instead of just absolutely hating them.

It's a really odd writing choice for a show that focuses on morally gray characters, or the idea that nobody in the show is really a good person, to decide to play moral high ground in this particular instance, and have Ian suddenly turn his nose up at Mickey's behaviors.

But is this really how Ian feels?

Because, as established, Ian is VERY good at playing chameleon. He is good at shaping himself into whatever a partner wants him to be. He mirrors his partners mannerisms, beliefs, and attitudes.

And Caleb, for all that the story wants to make us believe he's better than Mickey, is actually not the best partner either. Not just for cheating on Ian in season seven and then gaslighting Ian about it; he shows some toxic behaviors in season six as well, including being lowkey judgmental about Ian's Southside roots.

Take, for example, Caleb implying that the Southside is trash, but that he can see the beauty in Ian despite being from the Southside:

"That's my latest. I love to find the treasure inside the trash. Trying to find the secret life in things. What it wants to be instead of what it is."

"Is that what you're doing with me?"

"Good question. Can I kiss you?"

- Ian and Caleb, S6E6

(Which, funnily enough, this line from Caleb goes pretty against the sentiment that Monica had in season five, of Ian finding somebody who loves Ian for who he already is, as Mickey did.)

Or, for another example, Caleb judging Ian pretty heavily during the softball game for being "not grown-up." Simply because Ian expresses sexual interest in him above romantic.

"Cmon, let's get out of here."

"No. I knew you were younger than me, but I thought you were a grown-up."

- Ian and Caleb, S6E5.

Which, as I pointed out before, is really strange behavior. Participating in hookup culture isn't something that Ian needs to be shamed over. There's a sentiment of "Hooking up is beneath me, it's immature," to Caleb's tone, which is unfair. Now, he has reasons for this, that being his experience with getting HIV from a hookup who lied to him, which draws a pretty interesting parallel to Ian.

"Don't worry, guy I did the scene with said he was clean."

"He didn't use a rubber? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

- Ian and Mickey, S5E5.

Vs.

"Guy in college. He lied to me."

- Caleb to Ian, S6E8.

(Which I actually find to be a very interesting plot point and is actually a pretty good scene.)

So, while Caleb was not wrong to put forth a boundary by not hooking up, he was wrong for acting as if IAN was the problem in the situation. Not to mention, his behavior at the game is very strange when taken into account how little they've interacted thus far. He had understandable reasons for his negative reaction, but he went about it the wrong way. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Anyways, I could talk about the relationship between Ian and Caleb more, but that's not what the point of this is.

The point I'm trying to make is that Caleb, however covertly, expresses a negative or biased view toward the Southside lifestyle. And Ian, being the type to mimic his partners, follows along in that.

Ian already fears that he is going to be left. He is afraid that showing Caleb who he really is and not being the idealized version of himself will lead to Caleb breaking up with him.

"I'm enjoying it while it lasts."

"You think he'll dump you?"

"Well, I've told him I'm bipolar, and my family's screwed up, and he took it pretty well. But it's one thing to hear it and another to live it, so... We shall see."

- Ian and Mandy, S6E9

So, he chameleons. He makes himself the treasure in the trash. He distances himself from the image of a brooding, Southside street rat.

Because, after so long of constant pain and numbness during and post his diagnosis, Caleb is the first good thing he's found.

"I haven't been this happy in a long time."

- Ian to Caleb, S6E8.

And really, everything that I just talked about doesn't matter when you think about it that way.

No matter how dedicated or invested Ian was in his relationship with Caleb, it still provided him with companionship and validation, which as we know, is something that Ian has an unhealthy dependence on to find self-worth.

And I don't think Ian was wrong in searching for that connection simply because that connection wasn't with Mickey. He could've been well and truly in love with Caleb, and he wouldn't deserve some of the hate he receives for his canon actions.

It's easy to look at Ian's relationship with Caleb and get frustrated because of all the time that was put into Ian and Mickey's relationship. But beyond the instinctual negative feeling that comes with seeing Ian with anybody other than Mickey, his relationships outside of Mickey deserve to be analyzed and observed for what they actually do for HIS character, and not just immediately cast aside as unnecessary or ooc.

So, to summarize:

Firstly, Ian wasn't selfish for not waiting 15 years for somebody in prison. Whether he was serious about Caleb or not, Ian was under no obligation to dedicate himself to Mickey. Ian did not owe Mickey anything simply because Mickey was there for Ian when shit got tough. If they had been together, sure, Ian would've been a lot shittier for leaving Mickey alone. But as it was, they were broken up, and even if they hadn't been, Ian would've had every right to not want to continue seeing Mickey after his decision to harm Sammi, just as Lip was justified in not wanting to be with Mandy anymore after she ran over Karen.

Secondly, Ian dating Caleb wasn't bad for his character. In fact, I think their relationship in season six was actually a very interesting way to progress Ian's character and get more insight into his mind and how he operates.

Thirdly, Ian and Caleb's relationship deserves to be analyzed for what it is, rather than what it isn't. Just because Ian is not with Mickey doesn't mean that he doesn't undergo some huge development in this season, both in and outside his relationship with Caleb. Furthermore, Ian entering a new relationship gives us the opportunity to see more sides of his character, and as such the relationship should be analyzed as it's own separate entity, and not just as a hurdle in the way of Gallavich.

Fourth, Ian was not just waiting to cast Mickey aside to jump on the next dick possible. I've seen this criticism before, and when looking at his actual arc at the beginning of S6 and analyzing his general character, that's just simply not true. Entering a new relationship is not equal to immediately disregarding Mickey.

TL;DR: The hate Ian gets from this season mainly stems from "Ian date somebody aside from Mickey, bad Ian" without any further thought behind why he enters the relationship and what the relationship actually means to him. There is no separation in the minds of fans between Ian and Mickey, and therefore, Ian having experiences and an identity outside of Mickey is negatively perceived.

Season Seven: Putting His Own Wellbeing First

This one will be less long winded than the previous one, because I have less to say on it, honestly.

During the entirety of Ian's bipolar arc, it is pretty clearly shown that to maintain mental wellness, Ian needs stability.

When Mickey shows up and asks Ian to run away with him to Mexico, that's threatening to uproot every amount of stability Ian has managed to secure the past two seasons of the show.

I honestly don't see as much hate directed toward Ian for his decision to leave Mickey at the border as I see for his previous decisions. I'd say the main thing I actually see directed toward this season is just that Ian's story is boring without Mickey in it. Mostly because he enters another new relationship with Trevor after his relationship with Caleb, which really just follows the cyclical Shameless cycle of, "Don't know what to do with a character? Give them a new love interest!" But because I talked about the judgement for non-Gallavich Ian relationships above, I don't particularly feel like doing a deep dive into the Ian and Trevor relationship in this meta.

What I want to talk about relates to the Mickey Mexico storyline, though, and that's the hate other characters recieve for trying to dissuade Ian from going.

After finding out that Mickey escaped from prison, Fiona and Ian have the following conversation:

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. You ever, uh, think about about what would've happened if you'd run off with Jimmy-Steve?"

"Lying sociopath Jimmy-Steve? My life would be a nonstop psycho-thriller. I definitely dodged a bullet with that one."

"What if nothing ever gives you that same thrill again? Still feel like you dodged a bullet?"

"I don't know. Probably. Where's this coming from?"

"Things have been weird between me and Trevor since Mickey got out."

"You mean since Mickey busted out of prison and has got half the Chicago Police Department circling the Southside looking for him."

"Can't get him out of my head. Just trying to stop myself from doing something I shouldn't."

"You turned your life around. Mickey would set a match to it. You've done really great without him, and I'm really fucking proud of you."

- Ian and Fiona, S7E10.

I've seen this conversation criticized many times because of how "unfairly" Mickey is treated in this scene. But I truly think that nothing said in this scene was wrong, and Fiona was 100% right.

In the past, Fiona has definitely shown a prejudice against the Milkovich family before. Specifically with Mandy, Fiona seems to look down upon her and disapproves of the relationship between her and Lip. This on its own is unfair treatment and is annoying to witness.

But in this particular case, absolutely nothing she is saying is wrong or biased simply because Mickey is a Milkovich.

People take the line, "Mickey would set a match to it," and compare it to his behavior in late Season 4 through season 5, where Mickey is taking care of Ian, and say that Fiona is being untruthful or hypocritical. If Mickey had never been sent to prison, or even if he had just been released legally, and Ian was simply thinking about cheating on Trevor and getting back with Mickey instead of running away with him, then the criticism toward Fiona would be more justified. But as it is, Mickey is a wanted fugitive, and Ian running away with him would make Ian a fugitive as well, and WOULD effectively set a match to the life Ian had spent the past two seasons working toward. He would be giving up a career he worked hard for and fought to have, he'd be living in stressful conditions on the run, he'd have no support system, and he would have less ease of access to his medication. Running with Mickey would have been the wrong decision for Ian's wellbeing, and honestly, Mickey should never have asked Ian to go with him.

I think that many people have rose colored glasses on when it comes to Gallavich, specifically with Mickey, and that makes it harder to view these moments unbiased. But, looking at it objectively, Mickey was so wrong for asking Ian to come with him to Mexico. He KNOWS that Ian needs stability with his bipolar diagnosis, and he KNOWS that this would be a stressful life he'd be forcing Ian into.

Simply put, he's acting selfishly in that moment. Having your own interests in mind is not always a bad thing, but in this specific case, Mickey would have thrown a huge wrench into Ian's life is Ian hadn't made decisions in HIS best interest.

Again, I have less to say on this as I did other subjects, because to me it feels much more cut and dry. Mickey was in the wrong here 100%, Fiona was not being wrongfully judgmental toward Mickey, and Ian was not in the wrong for not going with Mickey.

After so long of seeing them apart, it makes sense to want to see them together again. So when Ian, again, is the one making the decision to end their relationship, fans are going to lash out at him and those around him.

But it's important to put aside biases and allow your favorite character to be in the wrong occasionally. Mickey is not perfect, and criticism against him, both from characters in the show and fans, is not unfounded nor unjustified.

TL;DR: Mickey was wrong for asking Ian to uproot his life and run to Mexico, and calling that out isn't defamation of his character.

To End This Yap Session:

Ian is by no means a faultless character, and he is not exempt from criticism both inside and outside of his relationship with Mickey. However, I often feel that the criticism he faces is for the wrong reasons, and not much contemplation or exploration is done on him as much as it is for Mickey.

I love Mickey. He's an amazingly complex character, and his relationship with Ian is one of my favorite parts of the show. But in being a complex character, he is also an imperfect character.

I feel that many fans get very protective over their favorite characters, to the point that anything that goes against that character's interests is labeled as bad, and any criticism toward his character is disregarded immediately.

In this particular case of Gallavich, I feel that post season three, fans often see things from Mickey's point of view without looking at Ian's as much. This meta was simply to give my own thoughts on Ian's most "controversial" moments among fans. Obviously this is mostly condensed to season six and his relationship with Caleb, which I feel is the biggest example of jumping to conclusions and only seeing the surface level of his character.

However, I would like to acknowledge that Ian is also an insanely popular character in the Shameless fandom. While he is misunderstood in many instances, he is given much more sympathy and understanding than many other characters in the show, especially many of the female characters. This long-winded meta is only focused on the concerning tendency for fans to link Ian's identity to Mickey entirely without allowing him to be an individual, but a majority of the time he is still a beloved character who is treated favorably by fans. Compared to a character like Debbie, Ian sees much more support, and I feel that the energy I put toward this meta and trying to understand Ian should also be applied to (almost) EVERY character in the show.

Anyways feel free to leave thoughts.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Meet Non-Cosmere Sanderson Characters

As requested by anon. :)

Namely, Sanderson characters from non-Cosmere works I've actually read, aka Skyward and Frugal Wizard.

1. Ryan Chu (Frugal Wizard) and Amaram (Stormlight)

Ryan: What DOES Sanderson have against handsome, highly competent people? Amaram: I don't know. He just hates us. Ryan: Are we too good at our jobs? Amaram: Are we too handsome? Ryan: Too good with the ladies? Amaram: Too effective in battle? Ryan: Is it that we maybe slightly screw over his precious main character while working on something greater? Amaram: He's SUCH an unforgiving author.

2. Jorgen & Spensa (Skyward) and Vin & Elend (Mistborn)

Vin (narrowing her eyes at Jorgen): You look like a man from a highly wealthy, politically influential background who has a strained relationship with his father, especially after you fall in love with a badass, combative woman from the "wrong" side of society who has special powers needed to save the day. Spensa (narrowing her eyes at Vin): And I'm getting the sense that you had to fight really hard for everything in your life but never gave up, and that you didn't like your man initially because he seemed wealthy and stuck up but eventually you realized that he matched your freak pretty exactly. Jorgen: Oh wow, we definitely need to set up a double date! Elend: Did we just become best friends?

3. Cobb (Skyward) and Harmony (Mistborn)

Cobb: ...and it's honestly horrible, constantly loading children into that munitions chamber to be spent into empty shells. Harmony: I know what you mean. Every time I cannot act, I have to call upon Wax to be my gun once again. Cobb: And then they go out... Harmony: And then he goes out... Cobb: And they die! Harmony: And he kills tons of people! Cobb: ... Harmony: ... Cobb: I think you got your metaphor backwards there, friend. Harmony: I think it's you.

4. John (Frugal Wizard) and Painter (Yumi)

John: [holds out his hand for a fist bump] John: Fellow loser protagonist? My man. Painter: I-I'M NOT FIST BUMPING TO THAT

5. Kimmalyn (Skyward) and Adolin (Stormlight)

Adolin: It can be tough to be the most emotionally intelligent person in the cast, huh? Kimmalyn: Tough? I dunno about that! I like being able to help my friends! Adolin: I mean, me too! Adolin: But we're both so friendly and mostly upbeat that I think people sometimes forget we have our own problems. Kimmalyn: Yeah...I missed some shots that haunted me for a long time... Adolin: And I stabbed a guy through the eye in an alley. Kimmalyn: Well, bless your stars!

6. Sefawynn (Frugal Wizard) and Demoux (Mistborn/Stormlight)

Demoux: Off-worlders giving you a hard time? Sefawynn: I'm sorry? Demoux: People from other worlds? Coming to your planet and messing everything up? Sound familiar? Sefawynn: My husband is from another world. Sefawynn: I would not say that he "messed things up." He helped save us. Demoux: [Crumping up a Seventeenth Shard pamphlet in frustration] How great for you.

7. Spensa (Skyward) and Jasnah (Stormlight Archive)

Jasnah: So these "Cytonic" abilities of yours give you access to the "Nowhere." Spensa: That's right. Why? Jasnah: Which is some kind of extra-dimensional space that exists alongside your "normal" space where time is strange and timeless creatures exist? Spensa: The Delvers, yeah. Jasnah: You are basically a sci-fi Eslecaller. Spensa: ... Spensa: A what?

8. M-Bot (Skyward) and Nightblood (Warbreaker/Stormlight)

M-Bot: Hiiii! Nightblood: Hello!!! M-Bot: I can already tell that you're a kindred spirit. Nightblood: Yeah!! M-Bot: Do you want to read my ongoing work "The Greater Argument for Human Origination Chaos" (GAFHOC)? Nightblood: Well I don't think I can read, but you can tell me about? M-Bot: My main thesis is that "humans are weird." Nightblood: ...And evil? M-Bot: No, gotta go with "weird." Weird creatures, humans. Nice. Squishy sometimes. But weird. Nightblood: Mmmm...I think you're missing the "evil" part. Nightblood: I was created to destroy evil, you know! M-Bot: I was created to document mushrooms! Maybe! Nightblood: Does the "M" stand for Mushrooms? M-Bot: Yes! Or possibly "massacre" according to Spensa. Nightblood: Ooooh, I like "massacre." Massacre is cooler than mushrooms! M-Bot: Uh, you haven't seen my very cool mushrooms. Nightblood: Well, let's see them. M-Bot: I love having a friend!

[wayfayrr]

Sky being self aware had been plaguing my mind since I wrote this other piece where he confronts you about having played through his game, however while you could read this as a sequel it is written as something separate!

before the main thing though just gonna say, I don't actually support yandere behaviour in real life - I don't usually mention this because in my opinion it goes without saying, however since reader borders a little bit on being one in this I just wanted to make it clear!

[masterlist]

It’s been so long since I last played Skyward Sword, Really I think the last time I picked it up was at least a year ago now. I’d almost forgotten I actually had it on the switch, if it weren’t for me needing to do a clear out I might have never remembered that I had this. I’ve got some spare time right now so really there shouldn’t be an issue if I took a break to play for a while would there? In the worst case I’d get distracted for a bit, but it’s not like I can’t just carry on cleaning tomorrow. Setting up the game was easier than ever, not like setting up any switch game is particularly hard though. My old save was still waiting patiently, I could never bring myself to delete it even after getting a hundred percent. Perhaps it’s finally time to try out hero mode for the first time?

The opening cutscene is nice to watch again, even if I can’t help but feel bad for Link in it, seeing what it’s building up to. Huh? I could’ve sworn my controllers were working a second ago, they can’t have disconnected during the cutscene either, could they?

“[Name]? Dearest… you’ve finally come back…”

What.

It’s like I’ve just been plunged into ice water - I- I’m dreaming right? I have to be, there’s no way this could possibly be real. He’s a game character. Link can’t be speaking to me as if he’s a real person. He can’t be.

“Darling, You - you look so pale are you alright?”

Another step toward the screen, a head-tilt and clear concern on his face. More than possible. I knew it, this has to be a dream.

“Darling, I know that this is strange for you - don’t you think it’s strange for me as well? I mean - I know I’m not supposed to exist as I do. I’m only supposed to be a blank slate for you to play this game as not - not have my own feelings.”

A sharp inhale laced with the sounds of static reverberated throughout the room, with a far too alive sounding sniffle as he wiped his eyes and took yet another step closer. Even eerier was the laugh that followed when he made eye contact with me, something sad and wet sounding like he’s barely holding himself together. It sounds too real.

“It’s been so long I thought that you - I thought that you forgot me. That you weren’t going to come back. I hoped - no I knew - that you didn’t though and you didn’t! You came back to me my love and now I’m not going to let you out of my sight again. I know that it wasn’t your fault that you took so long, I - I mean you didn’t even know that I’m alive but I’m not going to risk it happening again.”

He’s right up against the screen now, staring at me as he presses his hand up against it, like he’s testing it. Gently testing as if he’s trying to see how much pressure the glass can take. If there’s any time best to wake up already it would be now. 

“I’ve been stuck in here alone for so long, if I didn’t have something to focus on I would have gone insane! Can you imagine that? If I didn’t have you to think about all that time I would have lost myself! I was made for you; I know you care about me as well. Please [name] I - I don’t know who I’m supposed to be any more, I’m not - not your character. I’m so much more than that empty husk.”

His hand pushes further on the glass as his fingers tense up, now like he’s preparing himself for something. Link, I’ve never seen him - any version of him in any version of the games acting even half as emotive as this. That proves that this is all a dream, he can’t be - this can’t be real. 

“There’s one other thing that being trapped in here for all this time has let me focus on I think I know how to get out now… If I press this just-”

A sickeningly twisted smile found its way onto his face with each shrill crack of the glass screen under his hand. The other moving up to join it as he pushed even harder, intending to shatter the barrier, he’s convinced himself is standing between us. My chest feels so tight right now, why am I so sore in a dream?  If I were awake I’d be convinced I was having a panic attack but - no- no I’m not awake.

“Right. Then - Well you can see can’t you dearest? If I carry on like this, there won’t be any-”

A loud wince as his hand shatters through the screen, the glass shards cutting through his skin effortlessly marring both him and the remaining screen with - with his blood. The laughter that followed the screen cutting to blank with his hand reaching through seemed to tighten the band that’s seemingly wrapped itself around my lungs making it harder still to breathe. How could I breathe when link - the link is dragging himself out of my tv. 

“Come on darling..? I know you feel the same way about me, I’ve heard you say it all. So please don’t just stand there looking terrified. You have no reason to be scared of me, I love you so much [name]. Can’t you see I’m doing this so that we can be together? I can’t wait to finally hold you in my arms.”

Frozen. That’s the only way I can describe how I’m feeling right now, my once-warm blood has turned to ice within my veins. He’s not stopping. His shirt that was once a pale beige is now stained with red patches, as his head and torso are out of the screen now. What was once a comforting face to see, one of my favourite characters is staring me down with a downright vicious grin while he is dripping with his own blood. Even beneath all of that though, there’s still something so tender, so scared about him, something is worrying him.

“Please darling you’re so pale, you don’t need to be scared - I promise you everything is going to be alright. [name] please just say something to me…”

Dark spots are starting to show in my vision now and… I’m not sure if this is a dream anymore. There are too many things adding up that don’t make any sense. But if it’s not that, I don’t…

“[NA]-”

><><><><

Did I pass out? I mean it really feels like I did, but I don’t feel like I hit anything. If I passed out when I was alone then I would’ve hit my head on something. Maybe I’m just waking up from that weird dream. Hopefully. Although that wouldn’t explain -

“You’re alright darling, I’m here. I’ve got you, you’re safe, you’re alright.”

Why I feel like someone’s holding me? 

“Oh dearest you’re finally awake… You - you scared me you know? I didn’t think I was going to be able to catch you, that you were going to get hurt. I’m so glad that I did though love.” It wasn’t a dream. That was Link’s voice, the same one as before. It’s link thats holding me in his arms. Link that’s nuzzling into my hair as he seems to be fighting off tears. That means… That means…

“...Everything was real..?  I - you - it…”

He’s holding me so gently like he’s scared of me disappearing. If what he said is true? I can’t hold  that against him with what he’s said, but even still. I can’t just stay in his arms pretending that him stroking my face with bloodstained hands isn’t bothering me. He’s so happy though and he isn’t hurting me really why don't I just - no I have to tell him that this is making me uncomfortable. 

“All of it, all of it was real [name] and I couldn’t be more glad that it is, because it means that I’m finally here with you.”

“Link…”

“Yes dear?”

… this is all real. I’m actually talking to him. He’s real. And he’s downright obsessed with me. 

“You - you’re still bleeding, you should deal with that and- and with everything.”

I’m not sure that was the right thing to say, but why shouldn’t I not accept him. This isn’t some stranger, it’s Link. One of my first fictional crushes, he’s probably heard the things I’ve said about him; since I’ve said in the past if I got a chance like this that I would take it… why not see where this goes? He looks adorable like this, hopefully, if he stays like this long enough I’ll be able to get the image of him crawling through my tv out of my mind. 

“I - you’re worried about me, love? I - I knew that you’re my soulmate, oh my dear. You're so beyond perfect.”

“We should go get you some bandages Link. I know you’re not quite used to everything yet so I wouldn’t want you to get an infection immediately.”

Yeah, I’m not going to let this chance slip. He’s so much nicer in person, why should I throw this away? He’s perfect and now?

He’s mine.

[xluciifer]

2025, huh?

I remember 2016-2018 just happened yesterday and life's been a blur since then.

I've been on Tumblr since 2011-2012 and been writing since I was 11. I love creating writing, I'll always thank my English teacher who introduced me to Lord of The Flies and an assignment we needed to do to speak in the POV of one of the main characters.

Then I found Tumblr in its glory years and have been writing ever since. I absolutely adore it and think I've made tremendous progress over the years. But after I started to chase love and got into abusive relationship after abusive relationship, I fell out of writing and felt like I couldn't without my insecure relationships thinking I was talking to "another man". So I gave a lot of what made me me in order to bring someone else happiness.

Sonic Prime got me back into the writing scene again as Nine and it snowballed from there to try Lucifer at the beginning of the year, then Pomni and etc. And I'm so incredibly happy I made the decision to come back, even though just at the end of summer, I disappeared again. Raising an autistic kiddo alone has been really hard but I've been making it work.

And I've made so so so many dear connections with many of you to consider as my friends and it's the first time in years that I felt like I had my own friends again. Thank you for joining me in my journey back into the writing scene, I wouldn't trade ANY of you for the world. I can't wait to befriend and start writing with the many of you I have yet to.

Thank you for being my friend and got sticking it through with me, joining me into the new year.

I hope 2025 is easier for all of us than 2024.

Your King, Luci, loves you. ❤️👑

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey raven, there gonna be a Crowley ssr card (im not joking)

[Referencing this post!]

RIP Cater 💀 Now he knows how Trey feels whenever his birthday gets overshadowed by Halloween event news…

It’s true what they say, boys (nb). Cope hard enough and your wishes and prayers for NPCs to become actual cards will become a reality… Happened with Rollo, now it’s happening with Crowley—and presumably other NRC Staff. (I wonder if Year 4 of JP anniversary will feature staff in the groovy with Grim??)

IT’S SO FUNNY THAT THEY MADE THE MOST USELESS STAFF MEMBER THE FIRST STAFF CARD 😭 I thought for sure they would “save the best for last” but I guess Crowley isn’t really “the best”, huh… BUT HEY, at least now we can chuck him into battles against OBs and make him be a responsible adult and actually work to earn his coin 💰

I hope we get vignettes and not just furniture for Crowley! It would be cool to have a short story that centers around him, even if it’s just him goofing around and being unproductive. I’ll happily take a day in the life of Crowley anytime!!

I have so many questions about how Crowley would work gameplay-wise?????? ?? ? ? ????? ?? ? I wonder if we’ll be able to make staff members attend class…? But that’s odd, isn’t it?? Why would teachers be studying? And what happens if there’s a situation where like. Crowley is a student but also Crowley crashed in for a Special Lesson segment? Double Crowley?!?!?!?! The Spiderman meme where they point at each other?? Or will staff not be able to attend lessons at all and you just have to feed them materials to level them up outside of class… (You know what, leeching off of resources that the students worked hard to farm is very in-character for Crowley, so if this is the case then I won’t be upset 😂) What about Duo Magic??? Will Crowley actually be able to combo with a student??? Or will it be with Grim or whatever staff card is coming next...?

His card art looks hella cool ✨ It’s really atmospheric but also has a bit of that unique Crowley flair if you notice where exactly he’s seated (on his own damn desk www) while posing so sassily. And is that the word RAVEN literally making up the teeth at the end of his key-like staff????? That’s so Crowley of him…

What I am slightly concerned about is…

***Spoilers for the full Crowley card illustration + book 7 main story below the cut!!!***

… Why is the composition of Malleus’s Dorm Uniform card and Crowley’s card kinda similar…

Malleus is clearly turned to the side, but the slight worm’s eye view is the same and the lighting is somewhat close (relatively dark)… and both of them are holding staves while sitting. Plus the timing of Crowley dropping mid-book 7… AND sharing elements in Malleus’s Masquerade (Crowley notoriously wears a mask) groovy of all things (similar angle, chandelier overhead)… With the fan theory of Crowley actually being Malleus’s missing dad at an all-time fever pitch in popularity, this has me a little worried (since I personally think the theory doesn’t have a lot of solid proof and leaves a lot to be explained in terms of his actions).

Maybe that’s me overthinking it, but TWST has been known to intentionally do parallel or mirrored designs before (though I’ll admit this instance isn’t as clear cut as previous instances). I’m just pointing out what I see and I’ll leave the final judgment up to you, dear readers! I’m sure the “Crowley is Malleus’s dad” theorists will be in a frenzy picking apart these details www

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 25

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, a tinge of angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I'm not sad... 🥲 Honestly, I don't have words beyond gratitude and cliché goodbyes, so let's end this journey together 🤍

<< 24 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

25. Dare

“Ugh, I can’t believe you convinced everyone to come out here,” Jo groans and raises her flat palm to her brows, shielding her eyes from the scalding desert sun. “What the fuck is wrong with Palm Springs, huh?”

“C’mon, we’ve always wanted to go to Joshua Tree together since we moved to LA. This is like the perfect time,” Y/N argues cheerfully and nudges her friend with her elbow. “Look! It’s so peaceful.”

“There’s a dead carcass over there. Looks like a symbol of my marriage,” Jo deadpans.

Y/N purses her lips before compelling another positive smile to her face. “We can get rid of that. The girls really needed this after the whole Crowley debacle.”

The group left straight after the network meeting in Dean’s office this morning, which didn’t go as planned, to say the least. While several executives were surely interested, Crowley and H-ELLTV put an abrupt end to it. Apparently, they sold their fucking souls by signing a contract with the devil. Crowley’s words still rang in her ears on repeat.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, ladies, but H-ELLTV owns your characters, which means you can’t sell them to another network. You all signed a contract and made a deal. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking asshole…” Jo huffs her agreement but then throws her friend a suspicious sideways look. “What’s up with you, though? Why are you so chipper and cheerful like a fucking Disney princess? I thought you of all people would be fucking depressed and devastated about the stupid show ending.”

Y/N shrugs. “I am. I’m just trying to make the best of our last weekend together. Can’t I be happy?”

“Fuck no.” Jo shakes her head. “Something’s up with you. Usually, when you’re like this, it’s overcompensation ‘cause you’ve fucked something up. If I were still married, I’d think you’ve fucked my husband all over again. So, what did you do?”

Y/N shrugs once more and keeps her eyes trained on the sprawling desert landscape in front of her. “Nothing.”

“Dean also was a bigger asshole than usual this morning. So, I’m asking again, what shit did you fuck up now?”

“Nothing, okay? Dean’s always an asshole,” Y/N deflects defensively. Although, even she has to admit – those were some spectacularly icy green eyes this morning. Not that he ever looked directly at her or spoke with her even once. She probably would’ve turned to stone if he did.

“Fine, don’t tell. God knows I don’t fucking care,” Jo says indifferently and joins the other women as they set up their tents on the campground.

Y/N lets out a small sigh as she stares at the bluest sky she’s ever seen while the hot desert sun beams down on her. She watches the girls for a while, her heart slightly cracking at the thought this might be the last time they all hang out together. This year has been the best one she’s ever had.

But then, her heart stings even more when she thinks about the one person who isn’t here, wondering what he’s doing right now. If anything, she owes it all to him.

Dean nurses his beer with a sigh, his green eyes barely paying attention to the half-naked girl who’s winding herself up and down a silver pole in front of him. This used to bring him joy – day-drinking at a strip club and watching tits bounce. But now all he thinks about is how that girl looks nothing like Y/N. None of them do.

“Hey, son. Startin’ early today,” Bobby notes with a chuckle as he sits down next to him.

“Yeah, they canceled the show.” And while that’s certainly true, it’s not the reason why Dean’s sulking at a titty bar.

“Too damn bad. I loved the show!” Bobby tells him enthusiastically. “It was insane. Good insane. It had everything – comedy, drama, heartache, tits, violence, a fucking wedding? There’s something for everyone there.”

“Well, uh, thanks, Bobby. Really appreciate it,” Dean tells him politely. He likes the guy, but he’s not in the mood for chitchat. He’s barely in the mood for naked women, for crying out loud. This is a deep fucking depression.

There are only two promises he’s made to himself: One, he won’t slump like he did after his last divorce. There will be no excessive drinking, which leads to excessively pathetic crying, which leads to a myriad of bad choices out of sheer desperation. Remember that awful dating videotape he made? Yes, there will be no more of that. And then there’s of course two, no drugs – no matter how much he tells himself he wants or fucking needs them. A tiny dot of hope seems to be still dormant in his plastic heart, reminding him that she might come back, and he doesn’t want to risk disappointing her once she does.

Dean has worked fucking hard to be the best version he can be – a version she doesn’t seem to give a shit about. But even he has to admit: He likes himself a lot better now, so he refuses to turn back to old comforts, albeit it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“You guys interested in doing a floor show?”

Bobby’s words pull him from his reverie. Dean arches a brow at him, straightening a bit in his seat. “What? Here?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “No, idjit. My wife Ellen has some stakes in a club on the Vegas Strip. She manages the hotel there, too. They’re looking for a new headliner. Just do the exact same show, night after night, 300 miles east. Vegas is where the money is. Headliners make at least 25 grand a week. You think that gym is big? We have to fill 1,100 seats.”

Dean stumps and blinks at the old man a bit baffled. “Well, uh… I’ll think about it. Talk to my partner, the girls…”

Bobby smiles and pats his shoulder as he gets up. “You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now, how about a lap dance? On the house. Can pick any girl that fancies your heartache. You ain’t foolin’ an old man like me.”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks. Think I’m gonna head home and drink myself into a coma there.”

“It’s getting dark soon. How much longer?” Jo’s brown eyes dart to Y/N as she drags her feet over a rocky path. The sun stings less than it did when they started their little hike, but her skin feels perfectly tanned by now and the water is running low.

“Uh, I think it’s supposed to be just up ahead that hill,” Y/N muses and swirls her head around the formation of rocks that all look the same, squinting her eyes into the distance.

Jo sighs, and her stare intensifies. “You’ve been saying that for over an hour. Are we lost?”

“Noooo…” Y/N doesn’t sound convincing and surely doesn’t fool Jo with her reply.

“Alright, gimme the map.”

“I don’t have the map. I gave it to Meg.”

Jo groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? Meg’s the trail leader. Trail leader gets the map,” Y/N defends her faux pas with reason.

“Great! So we’re fucking lost in the desert,” the blonde huffs.

Y/N chuckles lightly, mostly out of uncomfortableness and panic she tries to hide behind it. “No, there’s a trail marker right over there,” she says, pointing to a pile of rocks. “That looks manmade.”

Jo quirks her brow. “You mean like that pile of rocks? Or that one over there?”

Y/N follows her friend’s gaze, only to realize that there are lots of piles of rock that all look too fucking similar. She purses her lips and scratches her head before resting her arms on her squared-off hips. “I think we’re lost.”

“Yeah.” With an exhaustive sigh, Jo plops down on another pile of rocks and watches as the orange sun dips behind the horizon, shadows of blue slowly crawling across the desert floor and swallowing the light.

Y/N clumsily lowers herself down next to the blonde. Her leg hurts like a bitch, and the desert sand that has wound its way into her cast itches a good deal. Her hands and arms hurt as well from clinging to her crutches all afternoon. Maybe Dean was right, and this was a bad idea, after all. Why does he always have to be fucking right about everything? How can one person be so annoying and frustrating all at once?

“Well, you finally get your wish,” Jo deadpans. “We’re gonna die together.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says ruefully and looks at the first stars appearing in the night sky. “Maybe the stars will guide us home.”

Jo just looks at her, unamused and unsurprised. “You’ve never been camping, have you?”

Y/N twitches her shoulders apologetically. “It was only supposed to be a three-mile moderate beginner’s trail to a beautiful vista. It’s what the guidebook said.”

Jo shakes her head and blows a raspberry, hugging her knees. “Joanna Wesson, 27, found dead near a random cluster of rocks that might have looked like a trail marker. She was best known for playing Beth Crowne on the soap opera Paradise Bay before trying to revive her career on an unsuccessful wrestling show. She is survived by her son, Sammy, and her bitter ex-husband Sam with his secretary Jessica.”

“Well, at least you get an obituary,” Y/N quips. “Mine would just read: Soap Star Found Dead Next to Unidentified Woman in National Park.”

Jo even snorts at that. “Well, I’m sure Dean would cut and edit an adorable video tribute with a bunch of B-roll about you at your funeral.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Y/N pensively licks her lips, her heart doing those painful twinges again whenever she thinks of him. “You know yet what you’re gonna do next?”

“No, I-… I think I wanna produce,” Jo announces with determination in her hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna ask permission. I’m so tired of it all. For once, I wanna boss people around and tell ‘em what to do. You know, you were right.”

Baffled, Y/N raises a brow. “About what?”

“Men,” Jo says simply and then spits with fire, “I fucking hate them all. The Crowleys and the Dicks and the Cases and the Sams and the Deans… They make the choices. They dictate the terms… I’m sick of it all. I just hate asking them for anything.”

“Dean’s not so bad,” Y/N says quietly but doesn’t look at Jo. Her heart stings for the millionth time. “I got that role for the Sondheim musical. They called this morning.”

Jo’s lips curve into a soft smile that reaches her eyes. “Congrats. I’m not surprised. You were really fucking good.”

Y/N’s heart flutters a little at the compliment. Tears begin to sting her eyes. She can’t remember the last time Jo was nice to her. “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Jo notes attentively.

“No, I am,” Y/N manages to choke out, but the sniffling betrays her intentions.

“But?”

Y/N bobs her head, swallowing. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Jo huffs and rubs her cold and goosebump-littered arms as the heat disappears, the nightly air bringing a fresh breeze.

“Dean told me he loves me,” Y/N confesses. “He’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Kinda obvious,” Jo says without a twitch of surprise. “Don’t feel bad for not loving him back. That’s what they want… For us to feel bad about every single fucking thing.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that’s how I feel,” Y/N replies and lets out a jittery sigh.

Jo’s head turns to her, eyeing her friend up and down. “And how do we feel about that? I can’t tell. It’s too dark to see your face.”

“I-, uh, I don’t exactly know,” Y/N says, which is partially true. She might know how she feels about the green-eyed director, but not how she feels about the situation overall.

Jo purses her lips and nods. “Alright, here’s a couple of options: happy, excited, scared, or… repulsed?”

“Well, uhm… scared,” Y/N admits slowly and gulps. “And excited… happy.”

Jo throws her arms up, shaking her head at the stars. “Jesus fuck! Then what the fuck are we doing here?! Is that why you dragged me all the way to the fucking desert? Because you’re running from your feelings?”

“Kinda. I thought the peaceful quiet and beautiful nature would bring me some much-needed clarity,” Y/N explains.

Jo lifts a brow but tries not to seem too annoyed. She’s accustomed to her friend’s theatrics, after all. “And? Did it?”

“The hike didn’t, but facing death kinda does,” Y/N jokes and begins to laugh a little, Jo soon joining her. When their laughter dies down and the desert sounds of chirping crickets and screeching eagles remain, Y/N exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in love with him, too. He makes me really fucking happy. But… I finally feel like I’m on the right track with my career. I am where I’m supposed to be, you know? I don’t wanna throw that away for a guy.”

“Who says you should?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t that how it goes? You did it,” Y/N argues.

Jo licks her lips and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause I chose the wrong fucking guy. Sam made me give up everything I ever loved and told me what to love instead. If you pick the right guy, he won’t make you do that.”

“How do I know it’s the right guy, though?”

Jo smiles softly. “Look, I’m not Dean’s biggest fan, but he’s yours. You know that, right? He’d never hold you back. He adores the ground you walk on. Yes, he’s an asshole with so many fucking issues, and he’s goddamn annoying most of the time, but he’s always had your back, even when he pretended that he didn’t. The guy would probably sell every limb and his fucking soul to see you get everything you ever wanted, Y/N. He wouldn’t be a mistake. You know what would be a mistake? Not trying because you’re too scared of making one. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Thoughtfully, Y/N nods in agreement and grabs her crutches, rising from her rocky seat. “I need to see him. We have to head back to the city.”

“Finally! Thank fucking God.” With a grunt, Jo jumps to her feet and helps Y/N to steady hers. “Maybe the girls made a fire bright enough, so we can find our way back.”

“Shit.”

“What? They have matches, don’t they? I’m sure these bitches can manage a simple fire, right?” Jo then notices Y/N’s hand curling around her bicep, her grip tightening. And then, Jo glances in the direction of Y/N’s eyes and sees the same damn thing. Her brown eyes widen.

“Mountain lion.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blonde hisses and holds on to her friend as well. Both women freeze on the spot. “What-, uh, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should throw a stick?”

“A stick?” Jo arches her brow. The big cat snarls and stalks a little closer, making the two women jump back. Their hearts are thumping in their throats at this point. “It’s not a fucking dog, Y/N. It won’t play fetch with you.”

“I know that. How about you come up with a better idea, then?” Y/N snaps through gritted teeth. The lion hisses again, causing the women to tremble down to their bones and hug each other tighter. “I think I should jump it.”

“Are you nuts? No!”

“Look, while it eats me, you can flee. I can’t run with my cast anyways. This is the best option,” Y/N insists, but Jo vehemently shakes her head.

“Fuck no! You’re not sacrificing yourself. We die together. You’re not leaving me behind,” Jo maintains. “I always knew my death would be your fault. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you’d get me killed somehow.”

The wild cat takes another step forward and lowers to the ground as if to get ready to jump its prey – them. But then a few tumbling rocks and breaking twigs draw its attention behind the women. Is there an even bigger cat here?

And suddenly, Meg leaps forward from above them with a loud howl and snarls at the cat, which hastily tucks its tail between its legs and flees down the hill into the dark night. Y/N and Jo expel a big breath of relief and a shaky laugh as they find Meg.

“Meg, what the fuck? Did you just scare away a mountain lion?” Y/N gapes at her friend in utter disbelief.

Meg only shrugs her shoulders. “I hate cats. What are you guys doing out here so long?”

“We got lost. Couldn’t find our way back to camp,” Y/N explains.

Meg furrows her brow and thumbs behind her. “It’s just over there. You guys have been hiking around the same hill for five hours.”

Jo shoots Y/N a small glare of annoyance and blows some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. “Of course we did…” she mutters.

“We have to get back to LA!” Y/N declares eagerly, trying to climb the small rocky hill with her crutches, foregoing the more suitable pathway.

“Right now? It’s probably 3am when we get to Burbank. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” Jo says as she attempts to climb after her friend.

“No! I almost died! Twice… Dean needs to know how I feel before I get bit by a rattlesnake, too,” Y/N reiterates passionately.

“It’s probably for the best,” Meg chimes in. “We kinda forgot to pack food. I was about to hunt something for us when I ran into you guys. We have tons of drugs and booze, though.”

Y/N’s knuckles thunder persistently on Dean’s door and conjure up a storm. She has jumped out of Ruby’s limo so fast, the girls are still scrambling out and flooding Dean’s front lawn one by one. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the ringing in her ears makes their chatter barely noticeable.

The lock clicks and the door opens. Dean stands in front of her with weary green eyes, heavy with sleep, tousled bed-head, and a furiously scrunched brow. He half yawns and half grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he feels clearer, minus the soft buzz of whiskey remnants in his bloodstream, he blinks at the young actress in front of him and then tilts his head at the circus show behind her.

God, between his punk rock daughter and this, his neighbors must really hate him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be camping in fucking Joshua Tree?” His voice is a gravelly bark. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially when he just woke from a dream about her, but he’s not as masochistic as he used to be. He’s not a fan of torturing himself with the image of her any longer.

Y/N’s heart somersaults as soon as she sees him, even though his apprehension hurts a bit. “Look, I almost died tonight. We got lost in the desert and then a mountain lion almost fucking ate us.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah, I’m not fucking surprised. Told you Palm Springs is the better option. So, did anyone fucking die? What’s the head count?”

“No one died.”

“Huh. Then why the fuck are you here in the middle of the night, Y/N?” Dean bites, his brow creasing in anger. He can’t even fucking look at her for a second without his heart being on the brink of an explosion. Even saying her goddamn name hurts like needle pricks in an abused vein.

“I–” Y/N swallows thickly. Her drumming heart is stuck in her airway along with her words.

“She’s here to tell you she loves you!” Ruby hollers behind her before several girls tackle her and clasp her mouth shut.

Dean’s heart twists upon the sick joke, his frown deepening. But then he glances at Y/N and thinks he can spot the truth in her eyes. He thought that once before, though, and was terribly wrong.

Y/N gives a shrug of one shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. A small smile forms on her lips. “What she said.”

Dean nods and drags a hand over his freckled face, feeling the tears well in his eyes, too. Fucking whiskey. Always renders him goddamn sentimental. “Look, uhm, you kinda gotta tell me this yourself. Otherwise, I won’t believe it, okay?”

Upon his request, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks him into his eyes. “I’m in fucking love with you.” As soon as the words are out, she starts crying and the tears fall down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dean’s heart tumbles into free fall, and he’s sure not even a parachute can stop it. “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. Is-, is it too late?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, grinning brighter than the California sun on the longest day of the year. “Fuck no. Even if it had taken you thirty years, I still would’ve taken you back. That’s kinda how once-in-a-lifetime love works, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good movie,” Y/N jokes between her tears, her fingers tingling to touch him.

“Yeah, best one there is.”

His hands grab hold of her and pull her into his embrace. He claims her lips, Y/N eagerly parting her mouth as his tongue slips between. The kiss is rushed and fervent and perfectly desperate. They’re both so gone they can’t even hear the girls cheering and applauding them in the background.

“You’re gonna come inside?” Dean asks in a murmur against her lips, barely letting her breath.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Lothario, you got space for us, too?” Cassie shouts with a wide smirk.

“Yeah, we’re fucking starving,” Ruby adds with an impatiently arched brow.

“We, uh, forgot to pack food,” Y/N explains with a chuckle.

Dean sighs and smiles knowingly. “Of course you did.” He then turns to the women waiting on his lawn. “Alright, get in. I’ll order some pizzas.”

The women then proceed to brush past the couple and filter into Dean’s house. Missouri pinches his cheeks, Ruby pats his head, Cassie fist-bumps him and sends Y/N a flirty wink, Meg tousles his hair, Charlie shrugs apologetically, and Jo offers an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” Dean looks down at her and tightens his jaw, even when a grin is visible.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s like you’ve adopted twelve strays. One of which actually turned out to be your long-lost puppy. They’re gonna be here until you die and then eat your corpse,” Y/N quips.

“Funny.” Dean clicks his tongue, his dimples itching to form a grin.

“Oooo! Let’s call the guys!” he hears Ruby exclaim from inside his living room. “It’s a fucking wrap party at the boss’ house!”

“No! No party! Guys, c’mon!” Dean storms inside after them, leaving Y/N giggling on his doorstep.

“Let’s call Garth, Kevin, and Benny!” Donna suggests, ignoring his protests. It’s like they can’t fucking hear him.

“I’ll call my husband, too!” Bela adds and eagerly dials Cas’ number on his landline.

“Oh, right, Cas…” Dean mutters with an eye roll as he remembers the impromptu wedding. “No fucking Benny!”

Y/N joins his side and rubs his back in comfort as he watches his house sink into female doom. “You okay?”

The deep trenches in his brow flatten into soft valleys as his green eyes lock on her. He dips his head and pulls her to his lips, kissing her slow and reverently. “Better.” He smirks. “Just gonna have to sage the whole house tomorrow.”

That earns him a playful slap on his chest. He laughs and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Hey, uh, speaking of party…” Dean mumbles before he addresses the whole room, grabbing their attention with an authoritative clear of his throat. He’s still got it. “You guys wanna do shows in Vegas?”

“What?!”

Dean’s eyes find Y/N’s gaping face. He chuckles a little. “Yeah, uh, Bobby offered me a deal. There’s nothing in the network contract about live shows. I already went over it with Cas this afternoon. It pays well, too. You guys interested? It’s not like any of you have actual jobs lined up, right?”

Y/N closes her mouth. “I got that Sondheim musical in San Diego. It’s a workshop production, but if it goes well, it could go all the way to Broadway. I could end up in New York.”

“Good,” Dean says and smirks. “You’re fucking fired.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N’s mouth falls open again. “You said you’d never fire me!”

“Yeah, well, this is for your own good,” Dean reasons. “You think I’m gonna let you quit Sondheim for some stupid wrestling show in Vegas? You gotta be fucking nuts! This is what you fucking wanted. Don’t make me kick your stupid ass onto that stage. It’s gonna look embarrassing for you again…”

Y/N bites her lips to conceal her grin. Her eyes meet Jo’s, who mouths ‘I told you so’ at her. “Thank you,” she tells Dean and kisses his cheek. He furrows his brow at her in suspicion. “But rehearsals don’t start until June. Still gonna need a job till then.”

“Oh.” Dean’s brow shoots up in realization. “The June in nine months?”

“Yeah, the June in nine months,” Y/N confirms with a laugh.

“Whoops. Well, consider yourself rehired till June, then,” Dean relents.

“So, if I ever have to work in New York–”

“Then we’ll go to New York. Big fucking whoop-dee-doo. You know I hate LA.”

Y/N giggles, nodding. “What would you do in New York?”

“Same I do here, just on a little balcony instead of a backyard. I sit with my typewriter by a table and smoke and drink,” Dean retorts. “I’ve actually been working on a new script. I’m moving away from horror and into Western.”

“Got inspired by the motel’s wallpaper, huh?” Y/N teases. “What’s it about?”

“Father-daughter storyline. Thought I’d give that a shot…”

1990, 5 years later…

“Dean! We’re gonna be late!” Y/N reminds him and holds the blindfold in place over her eyes as he drags her somewhere by the hand. Her heels can barely keep up with his fast pace. “You know, check-in at LAX is the worst. Our flight departs in two hours. I’m nominated, Dean! I can’t reschedule! The girls are all flying in, too…”

“I know! I’m fucking hurrying, okay?” Dean assures. However, she can hear the stress and tension in his gravelly voice. He then suddenly halts and positions her into place by her shoulders before carefully taking off the blindfold. “Alright, here we are.”

Y/N blinks her eyes open and recognizes blurry shapes of purple and gold. She lifts an eyebrow as ornaments on the walls and a big stage come into view as well. “The Aztec porno theater?”

“Mayan,” Dean corrects her and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gets down in front of her on one knee and tries to fumble out the too-big ring box from his too-tiny suit jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, wait!” Y/N stops his endeavor with raised palms, her eyebrows meeting her hairline when she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N!” Dean frowns in frustration and rises to his feet with a huff and a shaking head. “I know you’re against marriage and the patriarchy and all that bullshit, but c’mon… We’ve been dating for five years. We have a good thing going, right?”

After spending a whole year in beautiful Las Vegas – the Paris of Nevada – the two of them moved to New York. Dean sold his house in Burbank and opted for a Brooklyn apartment instead. Claire also studied film at NYU before she graduated last Spring. But every few months, the couple finds themselves back in LA – for interviews, for business, for friends.

“Dean–”

“No! You know me. I’d make a great fucking husband. You love it when I make reporters laugh on the red carpet. I’m an awesome trophy husband, okay?”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

Why the fuck is she angry now? He should be the one that’s angry. She’s turning down the best opportunity of her life. She should consider herself lucky he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He even had an amazing speech prepared to knock her right off her feet, but does he get to say it now? How he wanted to grow fucking old together and support each other? How he wanted to marry her all those years ago when she told him she was pregnant? Nope...

“I’m fucking pregnant!”

Dean blinks at her in confusion before his eyes begin to wander around the familiar theater. Did he take something? Drink too much? Did he actually travel through time or is this a weird fever dream on his deathbed?

“What’s it with you and this theater? And why do you always yell that?”

“Because you never listen.” Y/N giggles and bites her lower lip. “And I’ll gladly marry you if that’s what you were going for. I just figured I’d tell you before in case you wanna change your mind and bail.”

“Why the fuck would I bail?” Dean’s brows knit together, close to offense.

She shrugs and holds up her palms in surrender. “I don’t know! I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Why? Isn’t it mine?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a grin twitching on her pink lips as she slaps his arm. “Yes, of course it’s yours.”

“And you’re keeping it? You sure?” Dean throws her a quizzical look.

Her brow furrows. “Why, you aren’t?”

“No, I am!” he assures her swiftly, realizing how it sounded. “Hell yeah, I want another kid! You know I always wanted to make up for missing out on Claire so much! I finally get to change a diaper, go to the park, or the fucking zoo while my wife works… It’ll be so fun!”

Y/N tries to stifle her laugh. He seems happy, judging by the joyful glint in his green eyes. They resemble sparkling emeralds.

“But are you sure, y' know?” Dean checks with a deep look into her eyes. “I mean, I do what I can to support you and keep the thing alive in your absence, but you know you’re still gonna be benched for a couple of months, right? I’m not a fucking seahorse.”

Y/N laughs a little at that. “I know. I’m fine with sitting on the bench for a little while. I’m kinda exhausted. I did two Broadway musicals almost back to back, three off-Broadway shows, all the workshops and the rehearsals and Matinees and the dancing and the singing… Not to mention I’m nominated for a fucking Tony tonight,” she says and is close to out of breath by the time she finishes her list of accomplishments.

“Which you’re gonna win,” Dean reassures her persistently. He’s been telling her since the nominations were announced (and even before that when he first saw her in the role on the first night).

“We’ll see,” she brushes him off, although her blushed cheeks betray her words. In her heart, she hopes so as well. “Anyways, I could use the break,” she admits and takes his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. She places a loving kiss on his lips. “Right time, right guy, right baby,” she says, smiling.

Dean squeezes her hand happily and pulls her to his lips for a searing kiss. “So, where did we land on that whole marriage thing?”

“See? You’re never listening,” she teases, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Under one condition…”

Dean smirks. “I've had the same exact thought – Vegas. It’s perfect!”

“What, no! I don’t wanna get married in filthy Vegas, you dork!” Y/N frowns playfully, shaking her head. “I wanna get married in Nebraska. I want my dad to marry us."

Dean’s brow creases. He chuckles in amusement. “What, like a shotgun wedding? Could be fun… Pastor marries pregnant daughter to older man. Is this gonna make headlines in the townie paper?”

Y/N snorts, shaking her head at him. “No, it’s a shotgun wedding. It’s very common,” she deadpans.

“I’ve never met your parents,” Dean realizes then. “Why have I never met your parents? It’s weird they never come visit you,” he ponders.

“Oh no, they do,” Y/N tells him, pursing her lips as she twirls her hair around her finger. “They’ve seen me both in Into The Woods and Gypsy.”

“Really, when?” Dean narrows his eyes at her.

“Whenever you were in LA, visiting Claire,” Y/N admits ruefully. She never told them she was dating the director, not sure if they’d approve – not that she gives a shit, but she wanted to spare herself all the sermons and the exploring of the Sunday school dating pool. Whenever they asked who owned the men’s clothes in her apartment, she lied and said she had a gay-but-in-the-closet roommate. “But you can meet them now,” she promises with a reassuring smile on her lips. Thank God she’s an excellent, Tony-nominated actress. “I’m sure they learn to love you just like I did.”

“Learn to?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiles mischievously and shuts up any further comments by kissing him.

Dean grins and relents with a blissful sigh. “I love you, too.”

THE END 🌅

Thank you all so much for reading and making me laugh with your comments and screams throughout! 🤍

Are we done with these two for good? Probably not. I've left gaps and doors open on purpose, so I'm sure they'll make an appearance again at some point in the future 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

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@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70

[oneverydelululemon]

SXF MANGA SPOILERS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Hi! It's me again!

I want to thank all of you wonderful people who have read the first fic I did, The Conversation. I love and appreciate every single one of you! <3

Since that post gained a bit of traction, I decided to write down the prequel, aka how Damian even realised Anya can read minds. (Un)fortunately, this fic got a bit long so I'll be posting the first part for now. I hope you enjoy!

The Revelation - part 1

Damian was sitting on his bed in the dorms, his legs crossed. He had spent almost the entire day studying in the library, his nose in the books until Ewen and Emile dragged him out. After forcing Damian into the dorm, the boys went to get something to eat. Since Damian wasn't hungry, he chose to go to their room instead and have some well deserved rest. However, once he snuggled into his bed, he couldn't fall asleep.

Damian had been struggling with insomnia for a while, and the causes of his lack of sleep were always one of two things. If he wasn't stressing about his academic status, his mind liked to drive him crazy with all the memories he has about that shimp-haired commoner. The latter frustrated Damian to no end. He hated his own mind for toying with his heart in such a manner, for having chosen to give so much of its precious attention to someone so undeserving of it. If he'd paid as much attention to his studies as he did to Forger, he'd have already become an Imperial Scholar. A part of him wished he would come to his senses, but a small part of him hoped it could be like this forever.

So Damian did what he always does when he needs to relax and stop thinking about that girl - he took one of the many "The Serpent's Orb" comics he owns and began rereading it.

"The Serpent's Orb". Oh, how he adored that comic. He started reading it during the Dark Preschool Ages. He would read it whenever the halls of his mansion felt too empty and the rooms too big. Damian cringed thinking about the time he spent reading and reenacting the story to Jeeves. He cringed even harder when he remembered he would sometimes tell the same story to his old plushie whenever he'd be too scared to sleep at night, believing there were monsters in his closet. By the time he moved into the boys' dorm at Eden, he already knew every line in all the volumes, every episode of the show. Damian was ecstatic to hear Ewen and Emile were fans of the show like him, but they were never as enthusiastic about it as he was. He never blamed them for not loving it as much, though. For them it was just another cool show, but for Damian, "The Serpent's Orb" was a lifeline.

He took one of his favorite volumes from underneath his bed and began reading the first page. He usually reads through an entire volume in the matter of minutes, but he found it hard to concentrate during school break. His mind had been too occupied reliving the last time he saw that peanut-obsessed stalker. He did his best to call the night of the gala anything but magical, even if he did spend a good portion of it arguing with her.

Damian rubbed his eyes in hopes of erasing images of Anya dancing with him. He reread the page he stopped on. The main character read the mind of his best friend to find out what happened on the planet he visited. Damian hadn't really found this scene as interesting as many other fighting scenes up until that moment.

Mind reading, huh? - he pondered. It reminded him of the joke that dummy made at the gala. Damian knew better than to believe such an ability exists. This is the real world, not some cartoon or a comic.

I mean, imagine what life would look like if telepathy was real. You would know exactly what the other person thinks. If i could read minds, I'd have perfect grades! I would win every game of Old Maid and excel in every quiz! There's no one I wouldn't beat in every single football match! Bazooka Bill would fear me!

He kept daydreaming, chuckling to himself.

Until it hit him. He felt his stomach sink.

Didn't Anya make Bill cry when she dodged his every single throw, as if she knew what he was about to do? Didn't she know about some of the most embarrasing moments in Damian's life, like when Max pushed him into a pond on accident? Wasn't it Anya who won the first round of Old Maid, before she agreed to play another round because it seemed like she cheated? Didn't she somehow find out the bombs around their necks were fake in that damned bus, despite nobody ever hearing any of the terrorists say it?

Damian's mind was racing, going over every single interaction he's ever had with Forger. He stared wide-eyed at the pages in his lap, his face turning paler by the second. He dropped the comic from his hands as they were too shaky to hold it anymore.

In that moment, he was rethinking his entire existence. Is this life real? Is Anya real? Is he real? Is this all just a bad dream or some sort of a fictional simulation? Does he live in an actual cartoon?!

Damian didn't sleep that night. He barely managed to sleep every other night after that, counting the days before the beginning of the second semester.

He had some investigating to do.

And that's it for this one! I heard somewhere Damian imagined he's on a planet in Dragon Ball Z when he was "training" for the dodgeball match, so I took that fun fact and ran with it. That being said, I've never watched the anime or read the manga, I just searched up if it involves any telepathy. It's why I tried to keep it vague. I hope I didn't get anything wrong but let me know if I did!

I'll make a part two that will revolve around Anya finding out he knows.

Let me know what you think! Any feedback is appreciated! And thank you once again for reading my delulu little stories! Love you to the moon and back!

Byeeee <3