#and both times in the same chapter she's RIGHT about it!

[back2bluesidex]

To Be Popular - JJK [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook. But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything. is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?  

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 5.8k+

Warnings: tiny flirting, argument, that's all.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

Chapter index: -

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

Or read the full series right away on Patreon!!

Thanks to the every possible gods out there, you are capable of keeping your poker face even when your insides are burning with rage. 

Like right now. 

First of all you landed in a proposition with one of the people you don’t even like, that too, with the most insufferable one in question. 

Secondly, your superiors are treating him as if he has won a gold medal or something. 

Min Yoongi - the man who is known for his nonchalance and quiet wisdom, can’t seemingly stop giving his gummy smile to this guy, Jeon Jungkook. 

Mrs. Lee, who is probably double the age of the guy, is ogling him as if it's a zombie apocalypse and she hasn’t seen another male for thirty years or so. 

When they both turn to you, you realize they are probably waiting for you to react the same way as them. 

Too bad, you are not even the least bit amused. 

After greeting both of the superiors, Jeon Jungkook looks at you - with those big ass googly eyes. A kind smile plays on his lips. 

He extends his hand with a soft “nice to meet you.” 

Well. definitely not the same. You scream internally but you compose yourself and return his smile, somewhat half-assed, as you wrap your small hand around his big veiny ones (the same hand that does those dirty deeds with others of his stature).

“Nice to meet you too.” you murmur only because Yoongi is giving you those eyes you absolutely love and hate at the same time. 

Yoongi gestures to Jungkook to take the seat, “So, Mr. Jeon. I assume you have gone through our proposal already?”

“Umm.. yeah. My manager did go through your proposal and briefed me.” Jeon Jungkook says with a voice that doesn’t match that gruff, breathy one from the video. 

Why the fuck do I keep thinking of the video? You inhale a long breath. 

“Okay so.. Is there any question in your mind? Or do you want me to go through it all once again?” Yoongi adds good naturedly.  

“Umm no actually. I came here to decline your offer.” Jungkook drops the bomb. If you are low-key happy then you don’t let it show on your face. 

“W-what? Why? Is there any part of the offer that is not up to your liking? We can revise it anytime you want.” Mrs. Lee butts in. 

“Uh. no not that. I personally don’t like to use the devices that your company manufactures. All of your laptops are so bulky, the chassis is always too old-fashioned. It’s not something Jeon Jungkook would use, you know what I mean?” Jungkook reasons smugly, as he leans on the backrest of his chair and crosses his legs. 

You hear blood rushing to your brain and before any of your superiors can say anything you start speaking, “oh really? Must be tough to carry our laptops to a pornset or something, huh?” 

You see Jungkook’s eyes going comically wide as he tries to register what you have just said. 

“What? What are you talking about?” he semi-screams. His attention is now trained only and only on you. 

“You know very well what I am talking about, Mr. Jeon.” you lean on the table just as smugly. Under the table Yoongi kicks on your shin but you dodge his attack at the right time. 

Jungkook laughs. A big, thunderous laugh, “I don’t see it being any of your business to question what I do in my free time, is it?” 

You smirk. If he thought you are going to back off that easily, he was wrong, “it definitely is not. But the fact that we chose to offer you this endorsement deal despite your current public reputation, tells a lot about our dedication towards charity.” 

“Oh.. so this is a charity huh?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, “sorry to tell you but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any charity.” 

With that Jungkook stands up and gales at you for one last time before he storms out of the room. 

Yoongi slams his head directly on the table making you wince at the loud thud. 

“Y/N! What do you think you did?” Mrs. Lee screams in horror. 

“What?” you shrug in nonchalance, “he was going to say no anyway.” 

“Y/N” Yoongi finally says, probably after struggling not to punch himself in the face for inviting you to the meeting, “we could have negotiated if you chose to stay silent.” 

“But I only said what’s true. This collaboration could have saved his face. He was the one who chose to be an ass- I mean, inconsiderate.” you argue. 

“Oh really? Then why don’t you show him what’s right?” Yoongi says in a sugary voice, one that’s not really good news. 

“What do you mean?” you question, suspicion landing on your brain.

“You need to bring him back if you love the year-end appraisal or you can kiss your promotion goodbye.” he says in a collected voice. 

“What? Yoongi! You can’t do this!” you stand from your seat, and Yoongi only smirks at you. 

“Oh I definitely can. I can also submit a formal complaint against you calming that you have messed up an important deal. Do you want that?” 

You stay silent, questioning your life choices, your career choices. Cursing at the every god above for making you a human when you could have been a worm. 

No job, no money issues, no Min Yoongi, no Jeon Jungkook - only soil and dirt. 

You sit on the chair again, cover your face with both of your hands and curse “fuck everyone”. 

Your eyes zero on your phone this time. The insta handle is burning too bright for the darkness of your room. Honestly, tapping the name is currently hurting your pride. 

But what can you even do - you are a corporate slave after all. And the crush you have on your direct superior, prevents you from being rebellious. 

But more than just that - you know you were wrong. 

Your hate towards the social media influencers clan is pretty much ridiculous and apparently has no reason. 

Is it due to your underlying insecurity? Is it because you believe you are inferior to them? While they make hundreds of dollars per hour, you make a dime? 

You probably hate Jeon Jungkook because he is the same age of yours and yet has everything you don’t? - like an amazing sex life. 

As you tap on the story, it takes you into a video with all colors of gleaming lights. Clearly a club. Loud music blares through your phone speaker, almost paralyzing your ears. 

You can’t see Jeon Jungkook on the screen, obviously because he is the one recording the video. But you can hear him whooing in the background. There are some girls around him for obvious reasons. 

Suddenly you feel jealous of him again. 

He is of your age and he is enjoying a night out at a posh club while you are on your bed, with your ugly pajamas on and you can’t go out because you have work tomorrow. 

As soon as the word “work” registers in your mind, you remember you have been tasked with bringing Jungkook back. 

You look at the screen again. He has added the location, which means you can find the club, find him and apologize (oh god no!) and beg him for another meeting. 

Yes. That's a nice plan. You can then mourn for your dead self-respect with a bucket full of ice-cream. 

You have picked the shortest possible dress you own. 

It’s a shimmery black bodycon that reaches your mid-thigh. The noodle strap of the bodycon dress gives a tempting view of your collar-bone and cleavage. 

You have let your hair lose - you look the best like this. A touch of makeup and you are all ready. 

You know you are attractive but will that be enough for the bouncers to let you inside that posh club? You pray it’s enough. 

When the taxi drops you in front of the well-known club in Gangnam, you spot the line. And thankfully, the queue is not at all terrible. 

Since the clock hasn’t hit 10:00 pm yet, the entry is free. 

When you reach in front of the bouncers, they give you a once-over, then look at each other. Your hands feel clammy because they have rejected almost everyone before you. If you are not wrong then only two of the visitors were let in. 

But then one of them brought the stamp out and held it in front of your face. You gave him your wrist with a squeal of joy. 

You let yourself go blind and deaf with the glaring lights and loud music. Wherever you look, you see people attached to people. Some are dancing, some are drinking, some are making out, some are just standing and talking with drinks in their hands. 

You don’t think you have seen this amount of strangers all year. 

You will admit - you feel alive. 

But no! No Y/N! You are here with a motive, you can’t let yourself be distracted! 

In the story, Jungkook seemed to be close to the bar island. Even though that was more than an hour ago, you still start looking for the bar island. 

“Why are there so many bars?” you mumble to yourself as you scan the entire floor. There are at least four bars here, there must be more on the upper floor. 

You start feeling helpless at once. All these strangers around you, wrapped in wealth, some giving you long looks - trigger your social anxiety. 

Bad decision. It’s a bad decision. You should probably just run away. 

But when you are about to take an u-turn, you see him. 

You see Jeon Jungkook on the dance floor, grinding on a red-headed pretty looking girl. 

He looks - like a fucking wet dream. 

A black baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, some bulky golden chains, his dark hair gleams under the lights. His lip ring shines directly on your eyes and you snap back. 

Great. Now that you have found him.. You can proceed with your plan - which is to beg him. 

Without a second thought, you start stepping on the dance floor. 

There are not a lot of people, so you easily get past everyone and stand there behind him. 

Your eyes drop on his ass, then his hands, his veins and you question your life choices. 

Somebody just crashes on you making you lurch forward. 

Your body slams against Jungkook’s back. You are about to apologize when he reaches behind with his hand and grabs your side. He grinds his ass on you without even looking at your face. 

You feel nauseous. This is the second time you are meeting him and the proximity is very scandalous. 

Placing your hand on top of his, you break free from his hold. 

“Jeon Jungkook, can I please talk to you for a moment?” you scream in his ears. 

He doesn’t stop moving, but you know he has heard you. 

Jungkook slowly moves on his feet while vibing and then turns to face you. 

His mischievous eyes bore into yours as he takes you in slowly. He shamelessly eyes your cleavage then looks back up your face. 

“What?” he screams over the music. 

“Not here. Can we go somewhere quiet?” 

He smirks at you, “oh? Already? Wait- have I seen you before?” 

Your blood turns cold, “no. I mean yeah. Actually-”

“You- that obnoxious employee from Techtonic? Right?” his eyes go wide. 

“Obnoxious? I am obnoxious? Then what are y-” you inhale, “Yes. I am Y/N. You are right. I am from Techtonic. Can I please have a word with you?” 

“No? Why would I spare my precious time on you? So that you can insult me again?” he frowns at your figure before starting to walk away.  

You grab onto his hand, “Please. I am here to apologize. I promise.” 

He looks back, takes a look at the place you are touching him and then looks at you, “if I give you a chance… What will you give me in return?” Jungkook challenges. 

What in the world did you get yourself into? 

You don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins. 

I repeat - you don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your veins then what is making you feel so lightheaded? 

If it’s the spicy citrusy smell that Jeon Jungkook’s emitting then you won’t admit it even if you end up dying. 

“Tell me, Y/N. What will I get if I give you another chance?” he challenges again. This time his tongue pokes out of that perfectly small round mouth and plays with the glinting lip ring. 

You don’t understand the science of hearing him clearly despite the sound of loud music and the loud beating of your heart. 

“I- anything. Anything you ask for.” you choke out, uncertainty lacing your voice. 

“Anything I ask for?” Jungkook comes impossibly close to your body. 

You can see long fingers with even longer nails circling around his torso. The red-headed girl is clinged around him. 

“If- If I can afford that.” you choke out again.

“Oh.. you definitely can.” he smirks like a devil. All the smug pride drains from your body at the thought of what he might be asking from you. 

“Come with me.” Jungkook whispers briefly as he takes your hand and guides you through the crowd towards the upper floor. 

The piece of skin, where his fingers are holding your wrist - burns. 

You are ashamed, nervous, afraid - all in all you want to die. 

Just a week ago you were scoffing at your laptop watching this guy make fame out of a porn video and now he is leading you god knows where to do god knows what. 

Before you could take in your surroundings, Jungkook slams you on the nearest wall. He wastes no time in locking you between his arms. 

“You really came here only to convince me? You had no other intention, huh?” He asks with the lowest possible voice. A shiver runs down through the path of your spine. 

“No. What intention would I even have? I fucked things up at the meeting so my superiors are making me clean the mess.” Your voice comes out firmer than what you thought you could manage. 

“Oh? Really? But I think there is something else to it.” Jungkook comes closer to your body. His chest touches yours. You take a sharp inhale but keep the eye-contact intact. 

Jungkook’s eyes dip down to your chest again as he continues, “you want what you watched in that video, don’t you?” he wets his lips once those vile words come out of his mouth. 

Your jaw hits the floor almost, “what the fuck? What makes you think I want you?” 

Jungkook invades whatever was left off of your personal space and whispers right into your ear, “If you accept it nicely, tell me the truth whether you got turned on or not, I will give your company a chance.”  

You gulp at his offer. 

If you say you were completely unaffected after watching him fucking his partner so well, then it will be a lie for sure. 

So… if you swallow your pride and tell him that he indeed had some kind of effect on you - he will be up for another meeting? 

“And what if I tell you the truth?” you question, looking deep into his chocolate eyes. All you see there is mirth. 

“I will schedule another meeting with your company. But I will be declining you all again.” Jungkook adds nonchalantly. 

You scoff at that, pushing him away and making some space between your bodies, “so you are just going to use my confession and insult me in my workplace?” 

“Oooohhhh… You are not dumb, I see?” he muses, stumbling back from your body. 

“Wh-what? Dumb? You thought I am dumb? Mind you, Jeon Jungkook, I get paid for doing actual work and not because I keep hollering at a dumb computer screen in front of camera.” anger flares through every vein in your body. 

“And yet you came here to beg me?” he shrugs smugly. 

“You know what? Fuck you and your stupid followers who feed your stupid ego!” screaming at his face, you take steps away, stomping on the floor even if your heels are killing you already. 

This was a bad idea. Indeed a bad idea. 

You don’t get paid for dealing with these scumbags. So it’s not your responsibility. It’s better to have your appraisal compromised than falling in the trap of Jeon Jungkook. 

You imagine Jungkook’s face in the place of the ice cream tub as you stab your fork in it with as much fierceness as you could find in yourself. 

Yes, you are eating ice-cream with a fork, so that you can imagine Jungkook’s face and stab in it. 

“Fucking nutjob! What do you even think of yourself!” stab stab stab “Karma will hit you back very soon! You fucking asshole!” stab stab stab. 

As if granting your prayers, the cosmos sends a notification to your device. You take the phone to see Yoongi's instagram handle that has sent you a text. 

You start blushing instantly.  

“Is this the universe’s way of making up for today’s trashy encounter?” you murmur to yourself as you open his text. 

It’s a link so maybe it’s one of those cat videos he sends you the links of. 

As you tap on the link, it takes to a post that has been made just an hour ago. The post - a video, containing proofs of Kim Doona (the influencer Jungkook fucked) being a high school bully. The video has texts sent by Doona to the victim, threatening her not to reveal anything. 

Looks like Karma mistook the address. It should have been Jeon Jungkook! 

You go to the comments. 

All of their followers are going crazy, it’s just the same shit in different sentences. So you scroll past it all. 

But there are two comments that catch your eye, actually one comment and its reply. 

Commenter: Can’t believe Jeon Jungkook chose her out of everyone? A class bully? Really Jeon? You could do better. 

Reply 1: What are you even saying? Jungkook probably didn’t even know and mind you, none of them confirmed if they were together or not.  Reply 2: but girl, they f*cked on camera!  Reply 3: How does that confirm their relationship?  Reply 4: Jeon Jungkook has a girlfriend, I caught them at the club just a few hours ago. The proof is in my story. 

Eh? Kim Doona isn’t his girlfriend? That was a rumor? He has another girlfriend who was with him at the club? 

But you were at the club too, you should have seen them. Is it that red-head girl? 

All of these questions swirl inside your head as you tap on the person’s story. 

The video is taken amid a mass of bodies, trying to be discreet, but you can recognize Jeon Jungkook, leading a woman through the crowd. 

Your heart stops beating for a moment when you realize it’s you. Your face is not visible properly, curtained by your hair, and you are thankful for that. 

The video continues as Jungkook takes you towards the quiet corner. The person, who’s recording, moves too for getting a clearer view. 

Now he is hiding behind the end of the wall that Jungkook had pressed you on. The video shows how he had towered you in, whispered in your ear and smirked at you. But then it gets cut right before you push him away! 

“Fuck! I am not his girlfriend! Are you people blind? How do we look like a couple?!” you scream at your phone. 

You decide you have had enough humiliation today. Hence, putting your phone in charge and traveling towards dreamland is a better idea. 

This fiasco may die down by the morning. People will definitely defy the girlfriend theory because you two don’t look like a couple. And your face wasn’t even properly visible in the video. So yeah let sleep solve your problems. 

Except - nothing solves. 

When you wake up and take your phone out of charge, you grasp so hard that your phone slips from your hold and lands on the bed with a thud. 

You have a thousand new follow requests on your instagram account. There are a ton of texts from various people in Ktalk and most of them have sent you insta links. 

You open your younger sister’s text. She has sent everything in caps: 

Y/N!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS??? [Link] YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU ARE DATING JEON JUNGKOOK????????

You type your reply: 

Calm down. I am not dating that douchebag. 

And then you tap on the link. 

The post that the link takes you to, can rival your natal chart. It’s a detailed discussion of who you are, what’s your job, how do you look, where you have probably met Jungkook and your insta handel. 

They have also attached a photo of Jungkook talking to you standing in the middle of the dance floor. 

“Fuck fuck fuck!!!!” you curse and curse and curse. 

Why are these people dragging you into this mess now? Why do they have to link you up with him? What the hell is even happening? 

How are you even going to get to work today?

You shoot a quick text to Yoongi saying that you need a off-day today for obvious reasons. He sends one of those rofl emojis along with a thumbs up and you try not to feel down. 

Yoongi doesn’t really understand what you feel for him? Does he? 

You mean you are embroiled in a dating rumor with someone else and he seems to be just fine? 

It’s just another confirmation that he doesn’t reciprocate your stupid crush on him. 

Just when you are about to keep your phone aside and sleep some more, you get a call from an unknown number. 

You don’t think much before receiving it. 

“Hello, who’s this?” your voice is still groggy and your stomach rumbles as you speak on the phone. 

A sweet cherry voice rings in your ear, “Hello, is this Y/N?” 

“Yes. and you?” 

“I am Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook’s manager.” 

The remnant of sleep flies away from your eyes as the man introduces himself. Why is Jeon Jungkook’s manager calling you this early in the morning!? 

“How can I help you?” you voice, not trying to mask your confusion. 

“Y/N, I assume you are aware of the situation, right? I mean the rumors?” 

“I am aware and currently waiting for Mr. Jeon to decline the speculations.” you state as firmly as possible. 

“About that… Why don’t we discuss before revealing anything?” 

You frown at that.

“Discuss? What is there to discuss? You know well that I got to know Mr. Jeon via a professional connection, there is nothing else added to it, except for the fact that I visited the club to convince him for another meeting. And all of these things happened.” 

“Exactly. I know it all and I also know that it’s not nice to be dragged into this mess but we, me and Jungkook, have a proposition to make. We can use this situation for both of our benefits for strictly business purposes.” 

You sigh, “I don’t understand what you are trying to say Mr. Kim.” 

“Yes. That is only natural. So, why don’t we meet face to face and get down on the details of the proposition? You can bring a friend or family if you are not comfortable meeting us alone. How does lunch sound?” 

You think for a moment. You could probably take Jimin with you? Even though it’s monday, he will squeeze some time out of his schedule if you promise him free lunch. 

“Okay. I will send you a confirmation text in this number.” you reply before cutting the call and directing your fingers towards Jimin’s text. 

He has sent you a similar array of texts, so hopefully he won’t have too many questions to ask. He will understand once you give him a brief. 

“I will tell you everything, can you meet me for lunch? I need to meet Jeon Jungkook and his manager for obvious reasons. Free lunch will be offered.” 

His reply comes within a few moments, 

“I’m in. I will pick you up just text me the time.” 

You now type a text to Kim Seokjin confirming him the meeting as he texts you the time. 

Just when you are about to go to Jimin’s inbox again, another unknown number sends you a text. 

Annoyance flares through your veins as you open it. It says: 

“See you soon, pornaddict. 

– Jeon Jungkook.” 

You groan at the choice of nick name, “Fuck you, Jeon!” 

You don’t understand many things. 

But currently, you don’t understand why this fine-as-fuck man is Jeon Jungkook’s manager slash assistant. 

He goes by the name Kim Seokjin. 

When he smiles at you, you melt. And to compose your flustered state you look at Jeon Jungkook - the (current) bane of your existence. 

He gives you a lopsided smile that obviously is fake, leaning down against the sofa seat absorbing as much sunlight as possible. 

You don’t give him any reaction.. Beside you, Jimin introduces himself to both of the men. 

“Miss Y/N. Thank you so much for coming.” Seokjin says in a pleasant tone. His voice sounds like honey dripping from a silver spoon. 

You nod, “Yeah. Alright, Mr. Kim, can I ask about the proposition you were talking about?”  

“Call me seokjin. And sure, let’s get into the important details.” he pauses to give you a sweet smile then opens his ipad and scrolls through something. Jungkook, too, scrolls through his phone so unamusedly as if he has been dragged here without his consent. 

“So, as you already know, the situation is out of hand now. We tried to take down the initial posts but the photos and videos spread like fire.” he speaks calmly. You nod along with him, Jimin too gives the older man his utmost attention. 

“On the other hand, our Jungkookie has been interacting with people, who are currently embroiled in controversy.” noted: Seokjin called Jungkook as Jungkookie and he is talking about Doona. 

You see Jungkook rolling his eyes. 

“If it wasn’t not for you, then he would be dragged down in the mess too.” Seokjin continues, “I know it’s not nice to be the center of unwanted attention and it is already causing you damage but… we need your help. Jungkook needs your help.” 

Jungkook makes a very unapproving sound from his seat. 

“What help? How can I even help you guys?” you are now extremely confused. Why would Jeon Jungkook, out of all people, need your help? 

“Date him.” Seokjin proposes. 

“What?” you and Jimin scream in unison. 

“Not for real. Calm down. I meant to say, if you pretend to be his girlfriend before the world, on social media, it will help Jungkookie in defying possible criticism and hatred.” Seokjin explains calmly. 

However, you are anything but calm. 

Whatever criticism Jeon Jungkook faces, it is simply his own problem. You have nothing to do with it. What is your benefit by being involved with him? 

As if reading your mind Seokjin now states, “in return, Jungkookie will sign an exclusive deal with your company for not only one but any kind of future collaboration your company wants with him, that too, at a discounted price.” he winks at you. 

Your jaw hits the floor. 

“Hyung! What the fuck! Where is this discount coming from?” Jungkook finally opens his mouth for the first time. 

“Cool. I’m in.” you reply in a heartbeat. Jimin clutches your wrist under the table. 

“Y/N! Aren’t you even going to think?” he whisper-yells in your ear. 

“There is nothing to think about. This is a very good deal, Jiminie. I will be hard-pressed to let such an opportunity go.” you whisper back. 

“But-” 

“I knew you would be an intelligent one” Seokjin cuts off your friend with a cherry tone, “I look forward to working with you” he extends his hand, you take in him with a shake. The shit-eating grin is lighting up your face. 

Jungkook sits there throwing daggers at you with his eyes. 

“It’s all because of you! You fucked things up!” Jungkook’s loud voice invades the serenity you were enjoying while waiting for Jimin to show up with his car. 

You turn your head in astonishment and give him wide eyes, “My ears must have gone cold. You are saying thanks and I am hearing something completely different.” 

“No! You are hearing it right, I said you fucked things up. Only if you didn’t show up at the club-”

“Then people would be dragging you down in twitter and instagram for fucking a school bully on camera.” you finish the sentence for him. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue and the smirks, “you know what? I can see how bad you are down for me. Is this all a part of your plan?” 

You smirk back, folding your hand in front of your chest, “FYI, your manager reached out to me to help you out. I am doing you a favor and you are returning it. Got it?” 

“Again.. Again that nasty attitude of yours.” Jungkook steps towards you, “you know what… I kinda like it.” 

He breathes directly on your face. 

The puff of his breath lands on the apple of your cheeks making a blush creep up without your notice.

“Make sure you save my number, girlfriend. See you tomorrow.” he leans down and whispers the last words in your ears and then disappears inside the parking lot. 

You stand there, catching your breath and questioning your decision for the first time since the proposition landed on your lap. 

But wait? What does he mean by ‘see you tomorrow’? 

Somebody must have pressed a replay button on the cassette of your life. 

If not then it’s certainly a deja vu, because the scene that’s unfolding is exactly the same as what happened last week. 

You are sitting inside the conference room, with Yoongi and Mrs. Lee and there is Jeon Jungkook sitting right across from you. 

The only thing that seems changed today is his attitude - which is a little more tamed. 

And oh… your clothes too. 

“This is so nice of you to come forward and ask for a meeting after whatever happened last time.” Mrs. Lee speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone. You wanna roll your eyes but decide against it. 

“Ah. no no. Miss Y/N is really competent at what she does. The credit goes to her. Even though things went south for the first time, we figured out that we actually are very compatible and working together will be beneficial for both of us. Right?” Jungkook directs his question towards you. 

“Uh- yeah. Hahahaha. Yeah.” you honestly don’t know what to reply. He is obviously faking it and you need to fake it too but Yoongi is sitting right beside you and he is staring at you and you are on the verge of losing your sanity. 

“I’m sorry if I am overstepping any boundaries but I can’t help being curious if the rumors are true?” Yoongi barges in. He looks at you and then Jungkook, expecting an answer or a reaction. 

Before you can say something - something you don’t even know what, Jungkook decides to answer. 

“Only time will tell.” he smiles at Yoongi. 

The amount of weird glances you are receiving from your colleagues is astronomical. 

For most of them it’s just eyeing you up and down and for some of the brave ones, it’s throwing impromptu comments like “oh, Y/N is a celeb now.” 

You want to punch them on their faces. 

Nevertheless, you don’t want a new trouble right when you manage to fight one crisis in exchange for your name and relationship status. 

You scroll through company social media accounts and start planning for all the new content that’s going to drop as soon as Jungkook’s done with the photoshoot. 

Your phone chimes with a notification. When take it in your hand to see it’s a text from the devil himself: 

“In front of the parking lot. Come in five minutes.” 

Your eyes close in frustration. You haven’t even stepped into the deal properly and he has started ordering you already. 

But what can you even do, you dug your own grave after all. 

It takes you seven minutes to reach the parking lot - obviously because you work on the sixteenth floor and the elevators don’t run on your will. 

When you find Jungkook waiting for you at the mentioned location with his bike, you find him kind of intriguing. 

It’s been long, embarrassingly long, since you have had a guy waiting for you. Even though you know it’s fake. You can turn blind eye for a moment and let yourself believe otherwise. 

“You are late.” he says with a pout. 

You lose your sanity only a little. 

“Sorry. The elevator didn’t listen to me when I asked it to run fast.” you reply. 

“Haha. very funny.” he replies animatedly then reaches for his backpack and plucks out a document folder. 

“What is this?” you question naturally. 

“The dating contract for our fake relationship.” he shrugs, extending the folder towards you, “Hyung asked you to go through it meticulously. You can add or reduce any term you don’t see fit. We will finalize it and announce our fake relationship officially once you are done. You have time till Friday.” he recites flatly, “also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever-”

“Y/N?” someone calls you and it’s not Jungkook. 

You whip your head to see Yoongi is standing a few feets away inside the parking space with keys in his hand. 

Your stomach feels funny at his unreadable expression. 

And then you feel a pair or lips pressing down on your cheeks. 

Jungkook kisses you before parting and saying, “Hasta la vista, baby”  

You freeze at your stop. You can see Yoongi’s eyes narrowing on you. Jungkook hops on his bike and leaves within a moment. 

You stand there, staring apologetically at the man you like and he sports an expression you can’t comprehend. 

“So.. the rumors were true, huh?” Yoongi finally voices after what feels like an eternity. 

“No- I-” also, you can’t tell anyone just yet. Got it? Jungkook’s words reel inside your head, “yes” you lie, crossing your fingers behind you. 

“Congratulations” Yoongi greets before flashing his gummy smile at you and then leaving you there to look for his car. 

“You really don’t care, do you?” you ask him. Even though you know he can’t hear you. There is a mixture of different emotions inside your gut and you are way too tired to name any of those.

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

read the full series right away on Patreon!! (Start from part 4)

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[startaegi]

ON THE RUN, cho hyunju. 【 CHAPTER 02 】

⤑ pairing, cho hyunju x fem!reader

⤑ synopsis, where secret-not so secret lovers, hyunju and yn find each other in the unlikely of places.

⤑ series masterlist, on the run.

⤑ chapter three, coming soon!

⤑ notes, i’ve never written in this point of view before, i usually always write in a third person pov so please excuse how bad this is, i’m still learning 😓

⤑ taglist, @etta-huracan @littlegirlmin @mysatnin @taemin93 @ryoiii @sann1e @alexisabirdie @maiznamai @marsyay78 @learninglinesintherainn @noxitsnox @relaps3 @dbj444 @kiss-es (if you would like to be added let me know)

The bedsheets are scratchy against your legs. Your bare feet tangled in the ends keeping in the warmth. The lamp to your right lit up a small part of the room, just enough for your eyes to focus on the book in your hands. You couldn't afford a television or laptop, anything that could give you any form of entertainment but books came cheap, sometimes free and you quite enjoyed loosing yourself within the pages.

The door clicking open pulled you from the magical world in your lap. Hyunju entered the apartment, her coat flaked white with snow as was her hair. She looked at you with a bright smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. "Hi baby" She smiled in your direction, setting the small paper bag on the kitchen counter.

You instantly shut the page in your book, focused on nothing but her. She somehow looked more beautiful than when she left, not that it was possible because she looked beautiful every day. Her bangs where brushed to the side, most likely from the wind and the little bows you had added to her hair that morning - that she finally felt brave enough to wear in public, you almost cried tears of joy, had become loose.

"You look pretty" You said, eyes following her every movement. She reached for the bag, hands stopping mid air. You caught a faint blush making its way onto her cheeks before she turned away from you.

She refused to turn back, quickly going to what she was doing before. "I look the same as always" She replied, a little embarrassed.

This happened often you had begun to notice. Hyunju never accepted a compliment, she always found a way to brush it off or to turn it on you. She was pretty but you were prettier. Her outfit went together well but yours fit you better. It was a learning game, one you knew you couldn't rush. In time she'd learn to love herself as you did but in the mean time you'd be there to remind her.

"And you always look pretty" You assured her.

Hyunju doesn't reply but you can see a small smile forming on her face, aswell as the tips of her ears turning red. She shrugged off her jacket, hanging it with yours on the dainty clothing rack.

Her eyes shined when she turned to face you, fingers clutching the little brown bag she'd arrived home with. "I bought strawberries" She beamed. "I thought we deserved a treat" She took a seat next to you, placing the punnet of fruit between you both.

You giggled at her excitement, taking one of her cold hands in yours and pressing your lips against her palm. "I missed you" You said softly, tilting your head up at her. She was already looking at you, the same silly smile on her face. Your cheeks burned at her stare.

"Hmm" Hyunju hummed, reaching down for you. "I missed you too" She pressed her lips against yours, they were cold and cracked from the December air but you smiled into it nonetheless.

"Let's eat" She said against your lips, pecking them once more. "You can tell me about your book"

You didn't waste any time in pulling back, one hand reaching for the strawberries and the other your book. You flipped to the last page you had updated her on, strawberry half in your mouth. She laughed softly beside you, cupping her hand under your chin to stop any juice from spilling onto the pages.

Your eyes reluctantly opened, the brightness of the room stinging them. You'd been dreaming of her again, this time a memory from one of the first winters you'd spent together. Your mind felt foggy, all of the days suddenly muddling together. A raging headache was slowly forming in the base of your skull, a heavy thudding pulsating against your head. You lifted a hand to touch the area only to realise your entire body felt the same, as if someone had weighed you down with a ton of bricks.

You sat up slowly, dazed and confused as to where you'd ended up. Your eyes widened in surprise, only now noticing the green sleeves on your arms you hadn't been wearing before. You hurriedly kicked away the thin blanket, a puff of air escaping your lips at the green pants on your legs. Someone had changed you from the jeans and coat you'd been wearing. You frantically scan the room, mouth falling open. Countless people were gathering in the centre, all in matching outfits. The beds were one too many, piled high on top of one another. You shook your head in disbelief, of course it was too good to be true, you'd practically led yourself right into the kidnappers arms.

The doors pulled open jolting you backwards. You took a long shuddering breath, bravely pulling yourself from the bed and to the crowd. The same masked guard who had taken you from Hangang Bridge was there but now there was 8 more of him. You noticed the different shapes on their masks, mind swimming in confusion. What had you gotten yourself into?

"I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you" The masked man called. This one with a square printed to the front. "Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days, those who win all six games receive a handsome cash prize"

You don't have a moment to think, not when her voice is calling out from across the room. "Excuse me?" She asked. Your heart beats against your rib cage threatening to break free. She was here. She was okay. She was alive. But she was here? Of course she was. Your mind is scrambled, a million emotions passing through. "You said i'd be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me, so how can I believe that?" She called out again, you hear everyone murmuring in agreement.

You follow their line of eyesight, in search for her but too many people block your view. You need to get to her, the game now forgotten, you just have to see her face. You don't hear or see anything going on around you, only focused on the fact Cho Hyunju, the same girl who has ignored you for weeks was here in the same room as you.

You're lost in your thoughts when a girl steps into your path, touching your arm lightly. "Are you okay?" She hesitantly asked, an anxious smile on her face.

"Oh, uh-" You stuttered.

She takes your arm gently, sitting you on the bed. "You don't look okay" She keeps a soft grip on your arms. "Do you think you're going to faint?" She questioned.

You shake your head. "No, i'm okay" You replied, meeting her eyes. "I get these headaches sometimes, just the stress of everything going on I think" You awkwardly laughed, brushing her off.

She looked you over, not fully believing a word you'd said. "Let's just stay here for now" She smiled, taking a seat beside you. "I get the same way so I understand"

You raised your head at that, fully facing her. "You do?" You asked.

She doesn't open her mouth to reply instead her eyes land on her stomach. Only then do you notice the obvious bump she hadn't done well in covering. You let out a gasp, looking from her stomach to her face. She giggled softly, caressing her swollen stomach.

You don't get the chance to reply as the unknown girls attention focuses on someone else. A boy in the crowd currently shouting at the masked guards. You only see the back of his head from where you're sat, countless others surrounding him. His voice is loud and clear. "Do you know how much i've invested?"

"Player 333, Lee Myunggi" The square masked guard replied.

The screen above the doorway changes from the number of people in the room to a scene you notice all too well. A train station, ddakji and too many hits to the face.

"Age 30, used to run a Youtube channel called MG Coin. After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappear"

Your eyes widen at the number. Your debt seemed silly in comparison.

The guard continued. "You're wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws." They paused. "Current debt levels, 1.8 billion won"

You hold in a breath as the screen changes, you hope not to see your own face. The embarrassment of your debts was already enough for you to face never mind a room full of people, no matter if they're in the same situation or not.

It changes once again and you see an all too familiar face. You recognise the day it happened because she's in a shirt you'd picked for her. It was the same day she'd left you the goodbye message. All the missing pieces were starting to fall into place.

"Player 120, Cho Hyunju, 330 million won in debt"

Taking a deep breath you sit up straight, hands reaching for the necklace around your neck. She was wearing the same one on the screen. Your first couples item.

The next half hour passed in the blink of an eye, you don't register anything, your mind is still focused only on one thing. You know you should be listening, you can tell from the reactions of the crowd you're missing out on important information but your brain doesn't allow you to concentrate.

You blinked back to reality at player 222 tapping your shoulder. "We have to move" She said, gesturing towards the crowd. Everyone had slowly begun to form lines of four, a table and guard at every end.

It was a fast process, the lines moved with ease each player signing a consent form - which you had come to learn from who you now knew as Junhee.

PLAYER CONSENT FORM.

1. A player is not allowed to voluntarily quit.

2. A player who refuses to play will be eliminated.

3. The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie players will vote again.

4. If the games are terminated, players will divide the prize equally.

SIGNATURE _________.

The pen in your hand hesitated for a moment, hovering ever so slightly above the paper. You faltered but in the end it wasn't a difficult decision, you hadn't a clue how much the prize money was but anything was more than you had now. You had to win it.

𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𐙚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

You moved quickly through the crowds, bumping into countless people on the way, their faces scowling in your direction. You ignored them, on a mission to find Hyunju. You abruptly came to a halt, face to face with a queue of people and pink screens. You heard the clicks of a camera, noticing the people dressed like you smiling into them. They're taking ID pictures? You thought. This situation couldn't get any stranger.

"The first game will begin momentarily. After having your picture taken, follow the staff's instructions and proceed to the game site" A woman's robotic voice echoed through a speaker.

Your eyes flickered around the bright coloured room while you fidgeted in your spot. You raised on your toes, looking out for that familiar short haired girl but to no luck. The man in front of you smiled for his photo, then walking off to the side. The guard ushered you forward. You furrowed your brows, staring at the camera, unsure what to do.

"Please look into the camera and smile!"

The corners of your mouth upturned awkwardly. You were glad to not have seen a preview after the machine beeped, you didn't need to see how you looked right now. You dragged your feet off to the side, turning back to see if you could yet catch a sight of Hyunju. Again no luck.

You pressed your fingers against your eyes in frustration. Your teeth bit into your lip as you followed the direction of the other players, the woman's robotic voice still blaring through the speakers. The stairs seemed to be never ending, every corner was a new staircase until finally you came face with an open door leading outside. You felt the breeze against your face, breathing in a deep breath of fresh air. Your feet scuffed against the sandy floor, sticking to your white shoes.

Only when you weren't actively searching for her, she found you. "Y/N?" Hyunju's voice called across the yard, surprised.

You looked up from your shoes, relief flooded your veins at the sight of Hyunju's face. You swallowed back your tears, throat feeling tight.

She reached you, hands grabbing your shoulders then moving to caress your face. You couldn't quite tell how she was feeling. Scared, shocked, confused and happy. Her face was a mix of emotions. She quickly dropped her hands at the scoff of an older man passing you by.

"What're you doing here?" She questioned softly, tone still full of shock.

You chuckled bitterly. "What are you doing here?" You bit back.

Hyunju flinched. "I deserved that" She admitted. "I deserve a lot worse"

You took a deep breath trying to regain your cool. "So, this is where you ended up?" You questioned, disappointed and hurt.

She reached a hand towards you, not expecting to be ignored. Hyunju's face fell, her eyes glistening. "Please, you have to understand, Y/N" She begged. "I did it for us" You know she's right, you'd already come to terms with that after seeing her on the screen. You were here for the same reason. But that didn't excuse what she had done, leaving you without an explanation for so long.

You're interrupted by a manic males voice. You both turn to look at where the commotion is coming from. Player 456 is pushing his way through the crowd, arms waving wildly. "Everyone" He shouted. The silence between is uncomfortable, everyone's focus turned to the unknown frantic man. "Everyone listen up! Pay attention!"

You look at Hyunju, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Her expression matched yours.

"Listen carefully! This is not just a game, if you loose the game, you die!"

The silence doesn't last very much longer, laughter echoes across the courtyard. "Hey!" A woman's voice called, somewhere from the front. "What are you talking about? We're going to die playing red light green light?"

You're playing red light, green light? You asked yourself. You hadn't been paying attention too busy in conversation with your missing, now found, girlfriend.

"Yes that's right" He replied. "If they catch you moving, they will kill you. They will shoot you from somewhere! Stay on your toes, if you get caught you die. That dolls eyes are motion detectors" He pointed to the massive doll behind him adorned in an orange dress and pig tails. "Stay on your toes" He repeated.

Your chest tightened. Surely he was lying, there was no way any of you would die playing red light, green light, it sounded ridiculous. You eyed Hyunju, her lips pursed clearly in the same battle with herself, to believe him or not.

"What the hell are you talking about?" The same man who scoffed at you earlier, questioned.

"I think he's trying to scare us so he can win the prize money" The man beside him said confidently. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Don't pull any tricks, asshole" Another man called out.

Player 456 desperately pleaded, "You have to believe me"

You look at Hyunju again, you can tell she's also feeling the same way. He seemed too sincere to be lying, the panicked look on his face was chilling. The doll behind him began to turn, the creaking sound scraping against your ears.

"Don't be alarmed or panic. No matter what happens, don’t panic and start running" He bellowed, voice strained.

The same woman's voice came from another speak once again, "Let the game begin"

"What do we do?" You whispered to Hyunju.

She faced you, voice a little shaky when she spoke back. "Stay beside me, just in case"

You nodded, moving closer to her. The older girl looked down at you, eyes full of sorrow. She sadly smiled with a nod turning back to face the doll, you followed her eyesight. A five minute timer was now displayed on the wall and the game began.

[thewertsearch]

@necrowyrm asked: happy new year!!! enjoy the last little bit of homestuck before act 6! Anonymous asked: You have NO IDEA how much I was looking forward to your reaction to this flash :D @teddy-bearer-of-bad-news asked: a very late congratulations from me for making it this far! i gotta say, saving CASCADE for new year's is probably the smartest thing i've heard all week. may your experience be nothing short of righteous, comrade Anonymous asked: Cascade … Even years latter knowing it almost by heart, every once in a while I will take a little quarter of an hour to rewatch it, Say what you want about Hussie but there is a good reason Homestuck became so iconic. @adeptarcanist asked: The leadup to Cascade was honestly my favorite sequence in Homestuck, and maybe one of my favorites in any media ever? The way the narrative splits apart into all of the different scenes swirling in towards the critical moment, both advancing main plots and finding time to spend a moment of melancholy with characters who’d been left behind (The Jaspers and Nepeta scene :( )… it’s such a strong narrative device, and the tone it generates is impeccable. @calamitascalliope asked: I literally watched the flash again, and it still gives me chills every single time. Welcome to your post-Cascade life. You won't be able to think about anything the same ever again @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: "she looks so cool… but she’s so tragic… but she looks so cool…" has become a brainworm for me. i too love the handmaid's design btw, cascade time has been i think the most anticipated non-personal event of the entire year for me. i'm so excited @publicuniversalworstie asked: I want you to know that I also opened Cascade and started watching with you right after I saw your "oh my god it has chapters" ask, and I finished just as you posted "I will never be the same" !! And I bet lots of other people did too <3 so it's like we all watched it together!!!! Happy New Year and thank you for liveblogging!!!! It's been a pleasure！(and will continue to be) @krixwell asked: I would like you to know that your "Right, we're good to go!" and "oh my god it has chapters" posts were posted right as I was outside watching midnight fireworks ring in 2025 for the Central European timezone. Happy new year! @captorations asked:

hey remember when rose just up and fucking said that. anyway congrats on reaching cascade! it absolutely wrecked me back in the day, i think i stared at those flaming curtains for a solid ten minutes as my brain permanently reconfigured. the first few notes of the track alone still give shivers. getting your reaction to cascade was a wonderful birthday present. (speaking of getting older: aradia 🤝 dulcinea also got that "distressingly short lifespan only to die early anyway" story thread going on. the parallels are paralleling.) anyway happy new year and congrats you are… slightly less than halfway done with homestuck. have fun!

Hey, guys. Cascade was so fucking good.

Like, there's really no competition; this is the best Flash page in the comic thus far. Peak music, peak animation, and absolutely a peak narrative. It tied up mountains of plot threads, providing complete answer to questions we're been asking for literally thousands of pages. It completed over a dozen arcs, both big and small. It made me gasp three times in fourteen minutes. It let Jade become a furry.

11/10, and I'm glad people had as much fun here as I did on New Year's Eve. Happy 2025, and happy Act 6!

@morganwick asked: Sally, predicting Cascade: "I have approximate knowledge of many things." @morganwick asked: "You literally have the whole world in the palm of your hands." -Sally to Jadesprite, December 16, 2024 (You might also want to reread post/770701212350857216 in light of recent developments.)

Hah!

I mean, based on her powerset, it made sense that Jadesprite would do something like this eventually, but it's pretty funny that she did it more or less immediately.

And in the end, CD really was a tricky little bastard. We'll definitely need to keep a closer eye on him, next time around.

Anonymous asked: Take a moment to consider that if anyone were to use the Homestuck website as it stands now instead of the Collection program, Cascade would have been presented in the YouTube player in Standard Definition, artifacted to hell, with a clear boundary showing the dimensions of the video from the very start. Preservation is so important.

Jeez, you're not kidding. The 1080p is fine, I guess, but it certainly doesn't hit like the Flash version does, especially with its lack of moving panels.

I know something had to change when Flash kicked the bucket, but surely there was a better way to preserve the video's soul.

Anonymous asked: to give you some of an idea of what homestuck fandom looked like during this time period, im cribbing from a very popular homestuck post: “first, this upd8 was something that we had been waiting for for WEEKS. A literally unprecedented wait period at the time. We were used to suckling at the teat of daily updates, a constant stream of conversation and plot twists and buildup, and as EOA5, we were finally going to figure out what all these countdowns and plot threads and disconnected elements were building up for. And when the progress bar reached 100%, and when the page FINALLY loaded on 10/25/11, it was chaos. This was 2011, a primetime peak point and growth period of Homestuck fan density.” (…) “MSPA crashed, as it had started to during the last few big [S] updates. Hussie had already bought new servers in advance, but even when allegedly thousands of dollars were spent it couldn't handle the accidental DDOS attack of Homestuck fans. People were up all night waiting for this upd8, the curiosity was killing me. I know at some point he was receiving at least 1 million unique visitors per day to his site [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, upwards of 2 million during this time], and even though Hussie had foreseen such traffic and thusly hosted [S] Cascade on Newgrounds, a dedicated video streaming site, Newgrounds was similarly unprepared for the sheer amount of people frantically mashing the play and refresh buttons, and also crashed. Immediately. MSPA and Newgrounds crashed definitively for at least two nights in a row” (…) “Andrew Hussie has gone on record to say this was one of the few times he thought Homestuck wasn’t worth it, because the sheer unbelievable cost (was it $10,000?) [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, it looked like it was going to cost $100,000 to keep [S] Cascade up for several days] of servers and the chaos of no one able to see the upd8 and crashing nearly every site after. He was tweeting during the whole debacle, stating he was reluctant to put it up on Youtube because of all the moving elements of the flash, and style, and how youtube degraded the quality of the file size, and how he tried to scratch out buffer time and pauses by putting periods of silence between each section of the 14 minute upd8, the longest upd8 yet” “So after Newgrounds patooted, he didn’t put it on youtube and instead put up the entire flash file on Megaupload, where it could be downloaded in it’s entirety to be watched. UNFORTUNATELY, Megaupload also crashed very quickly, which Hussie felt much headache over. But before that happened I managed to get the file, since I happened to be up very early that night! Next it was on dropbox, which didn’t crash but had “link unavailable” on and off. ”Spoilers were flying everywhere, people didn’t understand everything that had happened, and by the time the timeline of events in and out of [S] Cascade was all straightened out, people became even MORE hype. Like this whole thing lasted at least four days, and on top of that, the upd8 was good. Fandom exploded.” it is impossible to quantify the experience. The fact hussie was going to have to fork over A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS to host it is crazy. I am never going to be over it.

Cascade's complete obliteration of the Flash-hosting internet says a lot about huge Homestuck truly was - but I think an even bigger indicator of the comic's success is the fact that Hussie dropped literally thousands of dollars on server upgrades to host the thing. That's not an investment you make unless you're expecting some serious returns.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 34/42? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN (interlude) ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY (interlude) TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE TWENTYFOUR TWENTYFIVE TWENTYSIX TWENTYSEVEN TWENTYEIGHT TWENTYNINE THIRTY (interlude) THIRTYONE THIRTYTWO THRTYTHREE

Family tree if you need/want it.

CHAPTER THIRTYFOUR

                When he opens Tartaruga Violet he asks Leandro and Silvia to come and oversee Tartaruga Blu while he’s gone. It’s the only solution that feel right, and he knows he’s being  a little bit of a control freak but it’s also hisreputation that is on the line. Fortunately Leandro understands that better than anyone, and having drilled Bradley to his own exacting standards he’s one of the few people he trusts explicitly. There are a few others he’s worked with, his sous chefs after months of him watching, but still. Doubling the number of restaurants is stressful and he’s glad the Jake is deployed and away from the worst of him. Not that he thinks Jake would care but a little part of him is anxious about it.

                Coupled with all that, Leandro and Silvia sit him down and insist on going through their last will and testament. They’re leaving him the restaurant, and they’ve already spoken to everyone else in the family. It was a unanimous decision. He knows he’s a fully grown adult but facing the idea that he will one day lose more people close to him makes him feel sick, is glad that Leandro and Silvia are both whole and healthy.

…            …            …

                It’s an absolute flurry of activity after Vi drops the bombshell. Jake calls his sisters, and those that can head over. There’s an immediate Facetime call; he’s used to talking to Leandro and Silvia in his almost fluent Italian, Leo there to translate any words he stumbles over. His entire family stares at him though, like he’s sprouted an additional head and he pulls a face at them while Leandro and his dad just look at each other. His dad’s Italian isn’t the greatest, not used as often as Jake uses his. He expects that’s going to change soon enough though. Leandro just slips into English and Jake watches as his dad just blinks in surprise.

                Then Leo is starting a second video call, because he can see Silvia getting impatient in the background. Her English is more heavily accented, makes her self-conscious which Jake secretly thinks is ridiculous because she definitely speaks better English than any of his sisters speak Italian. Leo however takes on the translation duties, although Vi soon takes over and Leo is there, wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder and just holding him.

                “Pretty fucking wild huh?”

                “Yeah. She didn’t give you a heads up?”

                “No she fucking didn’t. Probably thought I’d spill the beans.”

                Jake snorts, because that does track. If it’s good news Leo can barely contain it, starts thrumming with nervous energy before he just blurts it out. He’ll never be able to surprise Jake, which is kind of reassuring, he’s okay with his life being a little predictable. Leo disappears to the kitchen to talk with his mom, and probably bake something. He has a way with her that Jake envies but is so grateful for at the same time. Then they’re talking plane tickets and Leo is offering his house for them all to stay and he is never going to give Leo shit about his decision to buy the big-ass house ever again. He’d thought six bedrooms was overkill, but it’s going to be bursting at the seams.

                Silvia and Leandro already have flights booked, waving away Jake’s protests that they won’t be there to see them for very long. Apparently they don’t need to spend time with Jake and Leo, they want to meet everyone else. Leandro is bringing his sister Rosa, Vi’s mom, and his brother Guilliano. They’re all of a similar age to his own mom and dad, and then there are all of the other Gallo family members and Jake has never thought of his family as small before, not when he’s always had five older sisters. But now… he’s sitting beside Vi and hearing a whole lot of stories for a second time but this time Vi is showing photos and saying things like this is your third cousin, adding commentary or funny anecdotes and he catches his sisters that have made it all looking seemingly shell-shocked. Both their parents are only children, they’ve never had any cousins before. And now they have… dozens.

…            …            …

                Bradley hadn’t ever thought he’d officially be part of Leandro and Silvia’s family. It hasn’t mattered, he’s felt like part of their family for well over a decade, but now he has Leandro clasping him in a tight hug and thanking him and Vi for finding the long-lost branch of the Seresin family. Bradley’s not quite sure how to take that, because it’s not like he set out to do it, and he didn’t even know the important of the name Seresin until very recently. He prefers the name Gallo, says as much and gets kisses to both his cheeks from Leandro and Silvia both.

                So he’s not officially part of their family, but he has a ring that travels with him whenever he knows he’s going to be seeing Jake. Has done for over a year. Leandro and Silvia both know about the ring, and they were happy for him before they had even met Jake. Now that this has all come out of the woodwork he suspects that they’re overjoyed. He’s going to use it when the moment feels right; then he’ll actually be miraculously be marrying into the family, families, who have opened their homes and hearts to him. He just has to find the right moment. Along with talking to Jake about Ice and Mav, who he’s now communicating with almost every other day, wanting updates on Ice’s treatment. Silvia asks about him every time they speak and Bradley’s glad that she approves.

…            …            …

                Jake’s time left with his family and Leo is numbered in single days now and he hates how fast this time has gone. He’s off to Fallon for some training, won’t even be gone that long, but he has some things he’d like to take care of before he leaves.

                “You call him Leo. It’s good to hear. My son called by the name I gave him.”

                “Sì,” Jake nods, because he knows this. Knows as well that there are people who also used to fill that roll and Leo has never talked about them, still only mentions his Uncle Tom in passing. They’re so long ago that he supposes Leo simply doesn’t think they’re important. It doesn’t matter, Jake knows anyway, and he doesn’t want to hurt Leo by making him dig through it all.

                “You know his name… Leonardo?” Leandro asks him, and Jake nods, grateful the older man is speaking slowly, clearly wants Jake to understand what he is saying. He knows they could switch to English just as easily, but Leandro must have his reasons. “When he comes to us, all he eats is pizza pizza pizza. I say he is like hungry teenage turtle.”

                “Adolescent mutante ninja tartaruga?” Jake asks, grinning widely and turning his head to look at Leo, who is busy talking with Maria and Silvia, something about pasta he thinks, from the hand gestures and words he can hear.

                “Sì. Tartaruga ninja mutante adolescente,” Leandro corrects, but Jake impressed he got it as correct as he did the first time.

                “Tartaruga blu… Leonardo.”

                “Oh… certo certo,” Jake says, because it is of course obvious once it’s spelled out like that. Leonardo being the ninja turtle with the blue mask. He wonders why it sounds so familiar though and then realizes it’s the name of Leo’s restaurant. The blue turtle. Sneaky fucker. He did name it after himself. Jake laughs and shakes his head, accepts the hugs and kisses from Leandro and basks in the fact that his life is pretty fucking good right now.

…            …            …

                Leo has taken all of his family away to Tartaruga Violet, and now that he knows it’s named after both Vi and the ninja turtles he can’t help grinning every time he thinks of it. He’s having a family dinner, just him and his sisters for once, something they haven’t managed in quite a while but he’d really pushed for it this time and Leo had been more than accommodating, helping prepare some food that they could eat. They’ve still got about a day and a half before he has to leave, and he knows Leo is getting anxious to get back to his own work. But he needs to tell his sisters something first.

                “I’m going to ask him to marry me,” Jake says, and all five of his sisters jerk around to stare at him like his words have electrocuted them. “What? We’ve been together for over three years. This shouldn’t be, like, a surprise…”

                “Uh. But… you. Um.”

                “What?” Jake snaps, can see his sisters all exchanging looks, and he’s suddenly worried that they’ve been pretending to like Leo all along. “Do you suddenly not like him? Think… I don’t fucking know. Why do you all look like it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had?”

                “You know he’s on TV right?”

                “Yeah. He has some new kind of cooking show. And he’s published a cookbook. I care that he loves his job, I don’t need to know all the ins and outs… His restaurant keeps him busy. Especially now he has two. He said he’d still love me if he was rich and famous.”

                For some reason that makes Maria choke and cough on her glass of water and Jake frowns. Maybe Leo is a bit more well known than he thought, but he doesn’t think his sisters are a good gauge, they were fans of his three years ago so probably think he’s everywhere.

                “That’s great Jake. We’re all really happy for you…”

                “Oh wow, he’s going to be my actual brother-in-law. That’s going to be really fucking cool.”

                “You think he’ll say yes?”

                All five of them look at him with a variety of expression and then as one seem to break into laughter simultaneously and Jake wonders what, exactly, is so funny.

                “You’re an idiot.”

                “Of course he’ll say yes. That man is so gone on you.”

                “If he doesn’t pull out a ring for you I will honestly be so shocked.”

                “He’ll say yes. He probably would have said yes a couple of years ago…”

                “You could be down on bended knee doing up your shoelace and he’d say yes…”

                “Yeah yeah, okay, I get the picture… thanks for the votes of confidence.”

                “You don’t need them. Seriously.”

                “Now… how are you going to do it?”

                “I’ve got a couple of ideas…”

…            …            …

                It’s been a crazy ten days, feeling both not long enough and too-long all at once. He loves his family. And Jake’s family. But he’s also more than ready to return to his routine and the bustle and noise of his kitchen. He just wishes he could take Jake with him. Right now though it’s nice, just him and Jake walking through the empty park where the farmers market is usually held. It’s dark, but it’s warm enough, the air not quite turning crisp with the coming fall. The sky is clear and the stars are putting on a show.

                “You know, if I could I’d take you back to where we first met, if I could even remember where it was. You probably remember it.”

                “Uh… yeah. I think it’s a barber shop now.”

                “Huh. Then this is definitely the best place. Where we met again and started proper and I don’t ever want to think about my life without you in it.”

                He shouldn’t be surprised, they’ve talked about their future together, a one-day future that they’re both certain of the other being a part of. However it’s still a little overwhelming knowing that Jake really wants to spend the rest of his life with him. Overwhelming in a good way and he can feel the happy tears already trickling down his cheeks.

                “Will you marry me?”

                “Yes. Yes. Nothing would make me happier…”

                “Really? Nothing at all? Because I can think of a few things…”

                “Jake…”

                “Say my name again…”

                “Jake…”

                “Yeah baby… just like that…”

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER FOUR

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

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

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

word count — 9k

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

an — we’re getting somewhere. or are we?

masterlist

y/n threw another folded wedding invitation onto the growing stack with a sharp flick of her wrist, her movements still heavy with frustration. she grabbed another card, but her hand trembled slightly, and she let out a loud sigh, leaning back on her hands.

zaia, now fully lying on the couch with her legs tossed over the armrest, had a bowl of strawberries balanced on her stomach, lazily munching as she observed y/n. her gaze flicked to her for the fifth time in a minute, eyebrows knitting in curiosity. finally, she couldn’t hold back.

“okay, seriously. what is wrong with you?” she set her glass down and swung her legs onto the floor, leaning forward. “you’ve been folding these invitations like you’re mad at them. they didn’t do anything to you. spill.”

“nothing,” y/n said quickly, though her voice cracked slightly, betraying her.

zaia narrowed her eyes. “don’t lie to me, y/n. you’re my best friend, but i will fight you if you’re mad about jadon while folding my wedding invitations. do not bring that man into my sacred marital process.”

y/n scoffed, though her lips twitched at the absurd threat. “it’s not jadon.”

zaia raised an eyebrow. “then what? because you’ve been in a mood all afternoon. girl, i know something happened.”

y/n sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “it’s trent.”

“trent?” zaia repeated, sitting up straighter. “what did he do? because the last time i checked, you were flirting and texting nonstop. the vibe seemed immaculate.”

“well, apparently, it wasn’t,” y/n snapped, sitting up and crossing her arms. “because he rejected me.”

zaia froze. “wait—what? rejected you?”

“yeah.” y/n laughed bitterly. “he actually had the audacity to act like I was reading too much into things. like I imagined all of it.”

zaia blinked, struggling to process. “hold on. the same trent who’s been facetiming you, texting you, and practically falling over himself to spend time with you?”

“yep.”

“the same trent who’s been flirting with you so much that even jadon started noticing?”

“the one and only,” y/n replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

zaia sat back, utterly baffled. “wow. the nerve of men. i mean, what even is his excuse?”

“he said I’m ‘complicated,’” y/n said, rolling her eyes.

zaia frowned. “complicated? girl, you’re a hot R&B star. of course you’re complicated. but that’s not an excuse—it’s a selling point!”

y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “it’s just... ugh! my ego, zai. i don’t even know if I like him that much. but to be rejected like that? by someone who was literally pursuing me?”

zaia hummed, her tone thoughtful. “so... you don’t actually like him?”

“no!” y/n said quickly, then hesitated. “i mean, not really. it’s not like i’m in love with him or something. it’s just... he played me, zai. and it’s embarrassing.”

zaia tilted her head, studying her friend. “okay, but real talk. aren’t you still technically... seeing jadon?”

y/n flinched, guilt flashing across her face. “i mean... kind of? but we’re not, like, exclusive or anything.”

zaia smirked knowingly. “mm-hmm. but you’re sitting here all worked up about trent, folding my wedding invitations like a woman scorned.”

“shut up,” y/n muttered, her cheeks burning.

“look,” zaia said, leaning forward and placing a hand on y/n’s knee. “you’re y/n. you’re a hot, talented, world-famous singer. why are you even wasting time on these guys? you should be out there looking for a husband, not playing these little games with boys who don’t know what they want.”

y/n laughed softly, though it was more out of exhaustion than amusement. “a husband, huh?”

“yes, a husband,” zaia said firmly. “these guys? jadon, trent? they’re just passing through. they’re like appetizers at a fancy dinner. nice to look at, fun to taste, but not the main course.”

“you’re ridiculous,” y/n said, but her lips twitched into a small smile.

“i’m just saying.” zaia shrugged, picking up her wine glass again. “you’re too good for all this nonsense. let them chase you if they want to, but don’t lose sleep over it. you’ve got bigger things to focus on.”

y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch. “you’re right. as always.”

“damn straight,” zaia said with a grin, raising her glass in a mock toast. “now, stop abusing my wedding invitations and let’s get back to folding them like civilized people.”

y/n laughed, finally letting go of some of her frustration. but deep down, a small part of her couldn’t stop replaying trent’s words in her mind. complicated. messy. was that really how he saw her? and if it was... why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

y/n found herself standing in front of a door she knew all too well, her heart heavy and her mind a jumbled mess of emotions she couldn’t untangle. she stared at the wood grain, her fingers hovering just above the doorbell. she hadn’t even realized where her feet were taking her until she was here, at jadon’s place—her safe place, whether she liked it or not.

her hand trembled as she pressed the doorbell, the faint sound echoing inside. within seconds, the door swung open, and there he was—jadon. his dark eyes immediately scanned her face, his expression softening when he saw the distress written all over her features.

“y/n,” he said gently, his voice carrying that familiar warmth. “what’s wrong?”

the dam broke at his words, her shoulders slumping as tears she didn’t even realize she was holding back threatened to spill. she tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

“hey, hey,” jadon said softly, stepping aside to let her in. he didn’t push for answers, didn’t bombard her with questions. instead, he guided her inside with a hand on her back, leading her to the couch. “sit down, yeah? i’ll grab you some water.”

her throat felt dry, the words caught somewhere between her heart and her lips. instead of answering, she stepped inside, brushing past him as if that might help her escape the ache in her chest.

jadon closed the door behind her, watching her closely. “is this about trent?” he asked after a beat, his tone knowing but not unkind.

she froze, her back to him, and he took that as his answer.

“come on,” he said, his hand lightly brushing her arm to guide her toward the couch. “sit down. tell me what’s going on.”

she sank into the cushions, her shoulders slumping as she buried her face in her hands. the room was silent except for the faint hum of the tv in the background, but even that felt too loud against the whirlwind in her mind.

“he rejected me,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. “he—he pulled away, like i wasn’t worth it. like i was just... too much for him.”

jadon’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “he really said that?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with quiet frustration.

she shook her head, tears spilling over despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. “not in so many words, but i could tell. the way he looked at me, the way he said... everything. it’s like he changed his mind about me, and i didn’t even see it coming.”

jadon leaned forward, his hand resting gently over hers. “y/n,” he started, his tone soft but firm, “you know i don’t like seeing you like this. and honestly? it pisses me off that he’s making you feel this way. you’re better than this. you’re better than him.”

she looked up, her eyes red and filled with unshed tears. “don’t, j. don’t make this about him.”

“why not?” he shot back, his voice low but steady. “because it is about him, y/n. he’s the one who couldn’t see what he had right in front of him. he’s the one who made you feel like you weren’t enough. that’s on him, not you.”

she swallowed hard, his words hitting her in a way that felt both comforting and unsettling. “i just... i didn’t want to be alone tonight,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “and you’re the only person i could think to call.”

jadon’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “you know why, don’t you?” he asked, his tone softening. “because you always know where you stand with me. despite what it looks like, i’ve never played games with you, y/n. i’ve never made you guess how i feel. i always follow your lead”

she let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening at his words. she wanted to believe him, to let his reassurance fill the void trent had left behind, but there was a part of her that couldn’t let go of the rejection.

“i know you’re hurting,” jadon continued, his fingers brushing against hers. “but don’t let him make you think for one second that you’re not worth it. you’re more than worth it. and if he can’t see that, then... maybe he doesn’t deserve you.”

his words were like a balm on her wounded pride, his presence grounding her in a way that felt almost too easy. she leaned into him, her head resting against his chest as his arms came around her, warm and secure.

“i don’t know what to do, j,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt.

“you don’t have to do anything,” he said, his tone gentle but resolute. “just let me take care of you tonight. no pressure, no expectations. i just want you to feel like yourself again.”

she closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. it wasn’t love—it wasn’t even close—but it was comfort. and right now, that was enough. at least, that’s what she told herself as she let him pull her closer, his touch steady and sure.

but deep down, as much as she wanted to believe his reassurances, she couldn’t stop the thought creeping into her mind: why couldn’t trent see her the way jadon did? and why, even now, was she still hoping he would?

jadon let out a slow breath, his hand still resting on hers. “maybe he can’t see what’s right in front of him, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worth it. you are, y/n. and i’ll remind you every day if that’s what it takes.”

she leaned into him, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around her like a shield against the storm in her mind. she didn’t know what the future held, but for now, in jadon’s arms, she felt safe. seen. wanted.

even if it wasn’t love, it was enough.

the next morning, y/n shifted slightly, trying to ease herself out of jadon's embrace without waking him, but his arm tightened around her waist. his voice was soft, groggy, but still teasing. "trying to sneak off already, beautiful?"

she froze, her lips pressing together. "just... didn’t want to wake you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

jadon sat up slightly, propping himself on one elbow to look at her. his hair was a mess, his expression a mix of sleep and concern. "you don’t have to overthink it, y/n. i told you, you always know where you stand with me. no guessing, no games."

her heart twisted at his words, guilt threading through her chest. she wanted to believe him, to let those words comfort her the way they were meant to. but in the back of her mind, all she could think about was trent—his words, his distance, the way he made her feel like she wasn’t enough.

she managed a small smile, hoping it masked the storm inside her. "i know, j. you’ve been... amazing." her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she hated how unsteady it sounded.

jadon's hand found hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "hey," he said softly, his tone steady but warm. "you don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready. i just... i hate seeing you like this, like someone’s made you doubt yourself. you don’t deserve that."

her eyes welled up, and she blinked rapidly, turning her face away. "it’s not that simple, j. i thought..." she trailed off, biting her lip to stop herself from saying more.

"you thought he was different," jadon finished for her, his voice calm but edged with frustration. "and he’s not. i get it. but don’t let him make you feel like you’re hard to love, y/n, because you’re not. you’re incredible, and anyone who can’t see that is blind."

his words hit her like a wave, warm and reassuring, but they didn’t erase the hollow ache in her chest. "you make it sound easy," she whispered, her voice fragile.

jadon sat up fully now, his hand cupping her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. "it’s not about easy. it’s about knowing your worth. and you’re worth everything, y/n."

her breath hitched, and she nodded, even though the doubt still lingered. jadon's sincerity was overwhelming, and yet her mind kept circling back to trent—the rejection, the uncertainty, the way he made her feel small even without meaning to. she hated how much space he still took up in her thoughts, how much power his actions still had over her.

"thank you," she said finally, her voice shaky but genuine. "i mean it. you’re... you’ve been everything i needed."

jadon leaned back slightly, his trademark grin slipping back into place, though it was softer now. "that’s what i’m here for, beautiful. to remind you of who you are, even if you forget sometimes."

she laughed lightly, the sound hollow to her own ears. "i don’t think i’ve ever been as lost as i am right now."

"then let me help you find your way," he said simply, no hesitation in his voice.

y/n wanted to believe him, wanted to let herself fully sink into the comfort he offered. but deep down, she knew this wasn’t about finding her way—it was about running from the fear of rejection that had been carved deeper into her soul. jadon had been her solace for the night, but he couldn’t fix what was broken inside her. only she could.

and right now, she wasn’t sure she was ready to face it.

y/n tugged at her earrings, checking her reflection in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. her fingers were tense, tugging at the silver hoops as if they’d snap from the pressure. her outfit was a perfect contradiction—stylish yet understated, carefully put together to look like she hadn’t put in any effort at all. but the truth was, she had. too much.

it wasn’t for him, she told herself for the tenth time that evening. not for trent. but even the thought of his name made her stomach churn, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. the nerve of him—to flirt with her, to text her like he couldn’t go a day without hearing from her, to kiss her like she was the only woman in the world... only to turn around and act like none of it mattered. like she didn’t matter.

her grip tightened on her phone, and she took a deep breath. there was no way out of this dinner. their schedules had aligned for once, and skipping it wasn’t an option without raising questions. still, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

trent sat at the restaurant, his jaw set as he glanced at the clock on his phone. she was late—not surprising, given the way she’d been acting lately. every interaction with her over the past week had been short, distant, and clipped. her messages came hours late, if they came at all, and when they did, they were devoid of the warmth he’d grown used to.

he shouldn’t care. it wasn’t like they were anything official. she should be happy, he told himself, his leg bouncing under the table. she can be with jadon now. isn’t that what she wanted? isn’t that why she’s acting like this?

but the thought didn’t sit right. it didn’t explain why he felt a pang of something—jealousy? irritation?—every time her name flashed on his screen, knowing her messages would be curt. or why he’d spent the past week replaying the way she looked at him that night at the club, the way she melted under his touch.

his train of thought was interrupted when she walked in, and for a moment, his breath hitched. y/n had a way of commanding attention, even when she wasn’t trying. she looked effortlessly beautiful, but there was something guarded about her demeanor, like she’d wrapped herself in a layer of armor.

“you’re late,” he said as he stood, his tone light but edged with something he couldn’t hide.

“and you’re observant,” she replied, breezing past him to take her seat.

trent blinked, caught off guard by her coolness. “everything alright?”

“perfect,” she said with a tight smile, flipping open the menu as if she hadn’t just brushed him off.

the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the meal began in stiff silence. trent tried to make small talk, commenting on the menu, asking about her recent work, but every attempt was met with a short, disinterested response.

by the time the appetizers arrived, he’d had enough.

“so, this is how it’s gonna be?” he asked, setting down his fork and leaning back in his chair.

y/n didn’t look up. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’ve been acting like this all night—no, scratch that, all week,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “if you didn’t want to come, you could’ve just said so.”

her eyes finally met his, sharp and unyielding. “oh, please. like i had a choice? we have appearances, remember? it’s not like i’m here for the company.”

trent’s jaw clenched. “you know what? fine. if you’re still mad about the other night, just say it. at least then we can stop with this passive-aggressive nonsense.”

y/n let out a bitter laugh, setting her napkin down. “you think this is about me being mad? you’re the one who’s been playing games, trent. one minute you’re all in, the next you’re acting like i’m some kind of inconvenience.”

“maybe you are,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

she froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. the hurt flashed across her face for only a second before she quickly masked it. “wow,” she said, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger. “you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

trent exhaled heavily, running a hand down his face. “look, i didn’t mean it like that—”

“no, you meant it,” she interrupted, her voice sharp. “and you know what? you’re right. everything about me is complicated, trent. i’ve got baggage, issues, whatever you want to call it. but don’t sit there and act like you’re above it all. you’re no saint.”

he leaned forward, his tone quieter but no less biting. “this is why i stopped... whatever this is. because with you, it’s always something. always drama. always more than it needs to be.”

the words hit her like a slap, and for a moment, she was too stunned to speak. when she finally found her voice, it was cold, clipped, and dripping with disdain. “you know what? you’re right. i am complicated. and you? you’re a coward. but don’t worry, trent. you won’t have to deal with my ‘drama’ anymore.”

she grabbed her bag, her grip tight on the strap as her fingers curled into it, her entire body rigid with anger. her breath was shallow, chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. trent’s eyes followed her, but he didn’t move. he stayed planted, his gaze lingering as she stood, her chair scraping against the floor with a harsh screech.

“y/n—”

“no, this date is over,” she snapped, cutting him off, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. she didn't even wait for him to respond before she turned, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she stormed toward the door.

trent didn’t move to stop her. he couldn’t. part of him wanted to, wanted to run after her, say something, make her stay, but the words stuck in his throat, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. instead, he watched as she disappeared out the door, his chest tightening with a strange emptiness.

he stayed there, alone with the lingering silence, and he couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, she was right. maybe everything between them had been a game all along. but what stung more than anything was the sinking feeling that he’d just let something real slip through his fingers without ever truly knowing how to hold on to it.

trent stood outside y/n’s house, his hand hovering over the doorbell. the soft glow of the hallway light did little to calm the storm inside him. he’d spent all night replaying their argument, her voice tight with hurt, the way her eyes had brimmed with tears she tried to hide. he hated himself for the things he’d said, for the things he didn’t say. he’d come to fix it, to explain himself, to tell her he was sorry.

but when the door swung open, it wasn’t y/n standing there. it was jadon.

trent froze, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked over the other man. jadon leaned casually against the doorframe, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if this wasn’t the last place trent expected to see him. he was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, looking entirely too at home.

“trent,” jadon greeted, his tone easy, like they were old friends instead of whatever this was. “didn’t expect to see you here.”

“yeah, clearly,” trent bit out, his voice low and controlled. his gaze darted past jadon into the apartment, searching for any sign of her. “is y/n here?”

jadon shrugged, leaning his shoulder against the frame like he had all the time in the world. “she’s in the shower.”

trent’s chest tightened at the casual way jadon said it, as if this was normal, as if he was always here. “and you’re here because…?”

jadon raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “because she wanted me here. anything else you wanna ask?”

trent’s fists clenched at his sides, his mind racing with a thousand questions he couldn’t voice. instead, he forced himself to keep his tone steady. “what’s going on with you and y/n?”

jadon’s expression didn’t falter, but there was something sharp in his eyes, a flicker of satisfaction as he straightened up. “we’re friends,” he said simply, the word dripping with a familiarity that made trent’s stomach churn.

“friends,” trent repeated, his voice flat, skeptical.

“yeah,” jadon replied, his tone light, almost teasing. “you know, the kind of friend who shows up when she needs someone. the kind who doesn’t make her guess where she stands.”

trent’s jaw tightened, the words hitting harder than they should have. jadon’s ease, his confidence—it grated on him, like salt in a wound. he wanted to call him out, to ask what the hell he was really doing here, but he couldn’t. not without giving away just how much it bothered him.

“look,” jadon continued, his voice calm but pointed. “if you’re here to talk to her, maybe come back later. she’s had a rough couple of days, and honestly? i don’t think you’re helping.”

trent’s chest burned with frustration, the unspoken accusation in jadon’s words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. he glanced past him again, as if she might magically appear and explain everything, but the sound of the shower running only reminded him how out of place he felt.

“right,” trent said finally, his voice colder than he intended. “tell her i stopped by.”

jadon’s smirk softened into something almost pitying, and trent hated it. “sure thing,” he said easily, stepping back into the apartment. “take care, trent.”

the door closed before he could say anything else, leaving him standing there in the dim hallway, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and something dangerously close to jealousy. he turned on his heel, walking away with a stiffness in his step, the questions swirling in his mind louder than ever.

he’d come to apologize, to make things right. but now, all he could think about was the way jadon had looked so comfortable, so sure of his place in her life. and trent? he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

he didn’t even know where he was going. his heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, all of them leading back to one thing: it was too late.

he should’ve been more clear. he should’ve told her what he wanted, instead of pulling away and leaving her confused. and now, seeing how comfortable jadon looked, how at ease he was in her space, trent realized with a heavy weight settling on his chest: y/n didn’t feel the way he felt. she was already getting what she needed from someone else.

trent slammed his hand against the steering wheel when he got to his car. he wasn’t going to wait around anymore, hoping she’d come to her senses. he’d made his choices, and she had made hers.

and maybe it was for the best.

but it still hurt.

trent sat in his car, the engine idling but his mind far away from the present moment. he hadn’t expected it to feel like this. he hadn’t expected the ache in his chest, the gnawing sensation that left him hollow when he saw y/n with someone else. but he couldn’t blame her—he had drawn the line, built the wall between them. he couldn’t fault her for finding comfort in someone who had never made things complicated.

you made your choice, he reminded himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. but even as the thought echoed in his head, the reality felt harder to accept than he’d imagined.

she doesn’t know I know, he thought bitterly. she doesn’t know I saw them. she doesn’t know it’s already too late.

with a sigh, he threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. there was no point in pretending anymore. they weren’t together. not anymore. y/n had made her choice, and he had to respect that.

trent approached her with that same charged energy she’d felt all night, his jaw tight, his movements deliberate. she could tell something was brewing behind his sharp eyes, and she braced herself.

“you gonna keep giving me attitude, or are we actually going to talk about whatever’s eating you?” he snapped, stopping a foot away from her.

y/n tilted her head, feigning nonchalance even though her pulse quickened. “what makes you think it’s about you?”

trent huffed a laugh, low and humorless. “don’t do that. don’t act like you haven’t been throwing daggers at me all night. just say what’s on your mind.”

“fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “you want to talk? let’s talk about how you’re the one who’s been stringing me along, acting all interested one minute and then pulling back the next. what do you even want from me, trent?”

“i’ve been stringing you along?” he repeated, his voice rising. “are you serious right now? you’re the one jumping between me and jadon like it’s a game.”

her expression faltered, confusion flickering across her face. “what are you talking about?”

he took a step closer, his eyes blazing. “i came over the other day. to your place. to apologize for how i handled things. guess what i saw?”

her lips parted, but no sound came out. she didn’t need to guess. the realization hit her like a truck.

“yeah,” he said, his tone biting. “i saw him there. with you. i left before you even knew i was there because, honestly, what the hell was i supposed to say?”

y/n stared at him, her mind scrambling for a response. “trent, it’s not—”

“don’t,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “don’t stand there and try to explain it away. i saw what i saw.”

“he was just—”

“spare me,” trent cut her off, his voice sharp. “you don’t owe me an explanation, y/n. but don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. i’m putting boundaries in place because you’ve already put yourself in a mess i’m not interested in being involved in.”

her shock quickly gave way to indignation. “a mess? is that what you think of me? of my life?”

“what else am i supposed to think?” he shot back. “you’re running back to someone who doesn’t respect you, and then you’re angry at me for stepping back. you don’t see how that looks?”

“i’m not running back to him!” she snapped, her voice shaking. “you don’t know anything about what’s going on between us.”

“then enlighten me,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re holding onto something that’s only dragging you down.”

y/n clenched her fists at her sides, her anger boiling over. “you don’t get to judge me, trent. not when you’re the one who’s too scared to even admit how you feel about me. at least jadon’s clear about his feelings. he doesn’t hide any chance he gets.”

trent’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “you think this is about me being scared? i’m not scared, y/n. i’m choosing not to get involved because i know how this ends. i’m not interested in being someone’s rebound, and i’m not interested in competing with him.”

“you’re not competing with anyone,” she said, her voice cracking.

“aren’t i?” he challenged, his voice lower now but no less intense. “because it sure as hell feels like it.”

she looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze. “it’s not that simple,” she said quietly. “things with jadon are… complicated.”

trent exhaled harshly, running a hand over his face. “complicated,” he repeated. “of course, they are. everything with you is complicated.”

she flinched at the bitterness in his tone. “i know what it looks like, okay? but when things are good with him… i remember why i fell for him in the first place.”

trent’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, her words slicing through him. he wanted to say something, to ask her why she couldn’t see the damage she was doing to herself, but the words lodged in his throat.

he looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before finally speaking. “are you in love with him or something?”

the question hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating. y/n hesitated, and in that hesitation, trent felt his chest tighten. her silence was confirmation enough for him.

when she finally answered, her voice was barely audible. “i don’t know.”

trent nodded once, his jaw clenching. “right,” he said simply, his voice flat.

she wanted to say more, to explain herself, but the look in his eyes stopped her. it was a mixture of disappointment and resignation, and it made her stomach twist painfully.

the silence between them stretched on, neither of them knowing what to say. and for the first time that night, y/n felt like she’d truly lost something she couldn’t get back.

trent's frustration hit a boiling point, his words tumbling out without restraint. “you know what, y/n? maybe you like the drama. maybe that’s why you stay in this mess. it gives you an excuse to never take responsibility for yourself.”

y/n’s face twisted in anger, and she took a step closer, her voice razor-sharp. “and maybe you think too much of a yourself to admit that you’re no better than he is. at least jadon doesn’t pretend to care and then push me away the second things get real.”

trent’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he took in her words. he opened his mouth, then closed it, his hand twitching at his side. finally, he snapped, “you know what, y/n? forget it. i’m done.”

she threw her hands in the air, her laugh bitter and disbelieving. “of course you are. running away again—classic trent.”

she turned on her heel, her shoulders rigid as she moved through the crowd. the pulsing bass of the club seemed to echo her anger, and she didn’t look back. but trent couldn’t let it go. something in him twisted, a knot of frustration, desire, and the raw, unspoken feelings he’d been burying for far too long.

before he could stop himself, he was chasing after her, weaving through bodies until he spotted her heading toward a quieter corner of the club. his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around.

“what the hell is your problem—” she started, but he cut her off.

“what did i tell you about that attitude, y/n?” his voice was low, dangerous, his grip firm but not painful. her eyes widened slightly, her breath hitching, and he stepped closer, crowding her against the wall.

“you’re such a brat, y/n,” he said, his tone laced with both frustration and something darker, something that made her heart race.

her eyes narrowed, defiance flashing in them. “and you’re an asshole, trent.”

he smirked, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. “maybe. but you’re the one who keeps pushing me, aren’t you?”

she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, his lips crashed against hers. the kiss was anything but gentle—it was raw, desperate, all the tension and unspoken words between them finally finding release.

y/n gasped against his mouth, her hands instinctively gripping his jacket. trent didn’t pull back; he only deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist, pulling her closer. her resolve melted, her anger dissolving into the heat of the moment as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“i told you not to push me, y/n,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and breathless.

he kissed her again, his lips trailing down her jawline to her neck. his movements were deliberate, each kiss igniting a fire under her skin. she felt his breath against her neck as he whispered, “you drive me crazy, you know that?”

her knees felt weak, her mind a haze of sensations as his hands moved to grip her hips. “trent,” she managed, her voice shaky but firm.

he pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. “tell me to stop, y/n. tell me, and i will.”

but she didn’t. instead, her hands moved to his chest, gripping his shirt as if to anchor herself. his lips found her collarbone, and her breath hitched, her head tilting back against the wall.

“you’re impossible,” she breathed, her voice tinged with frustration and longing.

he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “and you’re stubborn as hell.”

just as his lips found hers again, the reality of the situation hit her like a bucket of ice water. her mind snapped back into focus, and she pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss.

“i... i can’t,” she stammered, her voice barely audible over the pounding music.

trent froze, his hands still on her waist as he looked at her, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. “y/n—”

“i have to go,” she said quickly, stepping away from him. her lips were swollen, her heart racing, but her mind was screaming at her to leave. without another word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving trent standing there, his chest heaving as he watched her go.

the car ride was quiet, the low hum of the engine filling the silence as y/n stared out the window, watching the city slowly fade into the countryside. she hadn’t expected trent to bring her out of manchester, much less to a small family restaurant tucked away in what felt like the middle of nowhere. the smell of jerk chicken and spices hit her the moment they walked through the door, the warmth of the place wrapping around her like a blanket.

she glanced at him as they were led to a secluded table in the back, her curiosity bubbling up. “so... why are we here?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

trent leaned back in his chair, his eyes steady on her. “we needed privacy.”

her brows furrowed as she looked around the cozy restaurant, the walls decorated with photos of jamaican beaches and families. it was clear this place meant something to him, but she wasn’t sure what. “privacy for what, exactly?”

trent hesitated, running a hand over his jaw, a telltale sign he was gathering his thoughts. “for us. for this... conversation we need to have.”

y/n’s stomach twisted at his words, her appetite disappearing before it even had a chance to surface. “fine,” she said, her voice steady even though her nerves were anything but. “let’s talk about it.”

trent leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on the table. “look, y/n, i’m sorry for everything. i don’t know why, but with you, i can’t help but say the wrong things.”

she scoffed, her arms tightening across her chest. “hurting me time and time again isn’t some accidental slip of the tongue, trent. it’s a choice.”

his face tightened, like he’d been struck, but before he could respond, she continued, her voice sharper now. “do you even realize how badly you’ve treated me? how you made me feel like i was a joke? you jumped to conclusions about me, about jadon, about everything, and you rejected me based on signals you sent. and then—then—you kissed me in that club like none of it mattered. do you have any idea how hard it is to not get whiplash with you?”

trent’s jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment. “i know,” he admitted quietly. “clearly, i’ve never done this before. i don’t know the 101 on fake dating, y/n.”

she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “this isn’t about fake dating, trent. this is about how you’ve made me feel. you pushed at insecurities you knew i had about relationships. you made me feel small, like i wasn’t good enough.”

his hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for hers but thought better of it. “i’m sorry,” he said again, his voice heavier this time. “i swear i didn’t mean to. what i do know is... since i kissed you, i can’t get you off my mind—more than usual. your lips, your body, the way you felt against me... it’s all i’ve been thinking about.”

y/n’s heart skipped, but she shoved the feeling aside, her eyes narrowing. “so you just want to fuck me? is that supposed to woo me? because that’s just lust, trent.”

he exhaled sharply, frustration flashing in his eyes. “it’s more than that. i can’t describe it, but it’s more.”

she sighed, leaning back in her chair as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “i can’t keep up with you. i can’t just move on from how you’ve treated me so far.”

trent nodded slowly, his jaw working like he was biting back whatever he wanted to say. “i know. i don’t expect you to just forgive me overnight. but i want to fix this.”

for a moment, they sat in heavy silence, the sound of clinking plates and quiet laughter from other diners filling the space between them. y/n rubbed at her temple, trying to make sense of everything he’d said, everything she felt. but before she could respond, he shifted gears, his tone softer.

“what about jadon?”

her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “can we not?”

“why not?” he pressed, his tone edging on frustration. “you seemed close.”

she frowned, crossing her arms again. “because he has nothing to do with this.”

trent’s brow furrowed. “nothing? i saw him at your house.”

y/n froze, her heart skipping a beat. “what? when?”

“a few weeks ago,” he said, watching her carefully. “he was there, and you were... in the shower.”

her stomach dropped. jadon hadn’t told her trent had been there, and now the weight of the revelation hit her like a truck. “are you serious?” she muttered, her voice tight.

trent leaned forward again, his elbows on the table. “why was he there, y/n?”

she shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. “why do you care? it’s not like we’re anything. you made that very clear with your boundaries.”

trent’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping low as he leaned in. “i don’t want boundaries. i want you.”

the words hung in the air between them, and y/n’s breath hitched. she blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his tone, the rawness in his expression. “what?” she whispered, barely able to get the word out.

he sat back slightly, his gaze steady. “end it with jadon.”

her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "it’s not that simple.“trent... there’s nothing to end. it’s not that simple."”

"why not?" he challenged, leaning forward. "if it’s making you feel this way, if it’s messing with your head—why not just end it?"

"because..." she hesitated, her words faltering under his intense gaze. "it’s not just about me, trent. things are complicated. you said it yourself—I’m complicated."

his jaw clenched, and he sat back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. "the way i see it, real or fake—when i laid my lips on you, y/n, you became mine."

her breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as his words hung in the air. she tried to muster a response, but nothing came out. instead, she stared at him, her mind racing.

"you can’t just say things like that," she finally managed, her voice shaky.

"why not? it’s the truth," trent shot back, his voice calm but resolute. "i’m not the one dragging this out, y/n. you are."

she let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. "he’s leaving, okay?" she blurted out, her voice rising slightly. "he’s going to germany, and i just... i just need to sort things out, okay?"

trent’s expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "you’re holding onto something that’s already slipping away. and for what? to spare his feelings? to avoid your own?"

"it’s not about sparing anyone’s feelings," she snapped, glaring at him. "i’m trying to do the right thing."

he shook his head, his frustration evident. "and where does that leave you, y/n? stuck in the same cycle, over and over again."

she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "if i’m so complicated," she said quietly, "why did you do that? why kiss me?"

the question hung in the air, and for a moment, trent said nothing. then, he leaned forward, his voice soft but steady. "why? because i couldn’t stop myself, y/n."

her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling exposed. "you’re the most difficult man i've met," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"and you're the most difficult women i've ever met" he countered, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

trent’s eyes darkened, and he leaned closer, his voice low. "even with all that... it doesn’t make me want you any less, y/n."

her breath hitched, and for a moment, she thought he might actually kiss her again. but instead, he pulled back slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "figure it out, y/n. because i’m not playing second to someone who doesn’t even know what he wants."

the words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she nodded, swallowing hard. "i will."

"good," trent said, his tone softer now. "because i know what i want. and it’s you."

the intensity in his voice left her speechless, and as he stood to leave, she realized just how much she’d crossed a line she couldn’t uncross.

she stared at trent, her eyes wide with disbelief at the words leaving his mouth. gone was the quiet, gentle trent who used to let her vent about her frustrations, her career, and, yes, even jadon. the man in front of her now was brimming with confidence, his tone sharp and unrelenting.

y/n blinked, the audacity of his demand pulling her out of the swirl of emotions. she leaned back, crossing her arms as she looked at him, her tone sharp. “you said i was a problem. now i’m supposed to drop everything for you?”

"so, you'll be my problem, not his," he said, leaning forward, his voice low and steady. "either way, last night already confirmed what i know."

her brows furrowed as she crossed her arms, trying to steel herself. "and what exactly do you think you know, trent?"

he smirked, leaning back slightly, the casual arrogance in his demeanor only fueling her irritation. "you want me just as bad as i want you."

she scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "yeah, right. keep dreaming."

trent's smirk only grew, and he tilted his head, watching her closely. "your body told me a different story, y/n. you can deny it all you want, but I know the truth."

her breath hitched, and she froze, absolutely stunned by the shift in his demeanor. the quiet, patient trent she had grown used to was nowhere to be found. this trent was bold, unapologetic, and completely unwavering in his confidence.

"excuse me?" she managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

"you heard me," he said, his tone softer now but still laced with an undeniable intensity. "last time, in that club—you didn’t pull away because you didn’t want it. you pulled away because you’re scared. scared of what it means."

her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing to find a rebuttal, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. her reaction last night had been instinctual, driven by emotions she wasn’t ready to confront.

"you’re so full of yourself," she finally said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound strong. "you think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?"

trent leaned closer, his eyes locking onto hers, leaving no room for escape. "i don’t have to figure it out, y/n. you already told me everything i needed to know."

she shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. "you’ve changed," she said, her voice laced with disbelief. "where’s the trent who listened to me complain about work? who let me vent about jadon without judging me? you’re not that guy anymore."

he smiled faintly, the softness of it contrasting with the sharpness of his words. "maybe i got tired of pretending i don’t care about you. maybe i finally decided it’s time you see me for who i really am."

her stomach flipped, and she didn’t know if it was from anger, confusion, or something else entirely. "this isn’t you," she said weakly, more to herself than to him.

"you don’t know me as well as you think you do," he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers.

and just like that, the dynamic between them had shifted entirely, leaving her questioning everything she thought she knew about trent—and herself.

and with that, the conversation shifted, the weight of his words pressing down on her as they finished their meal, the tension between them lingering like a storm waiting to break.

as the night wound down, the tension between them seemed to settle, though it never truly disappeared. they left the restaurant in a comfortable silence, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken words but not unbearable. trent walked her to the car, opening the door for her like it was second nature.

the drive back to her place was quieter than before. the earlier emotions had worn her down, leaving her subdued, her gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. trent stole a glance at her every now and then, trying to decipher the thoughts running through her mind.

when they finally pulled up to her building, y/n unbuckled her seatbelt but made no immediate move to leave. instead, she turned to him, her features soft in the glow of the streetlamp outside.

"thanks for tonight," she said, her voice quieter than usual but no less sincere. "for... everything."

trent nodded, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. "you don’t have to thank me. i meant what i said, y/n."

she smiled faintly, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer before she leaned over. he froze as she placed a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek, the warmth of her lips sending a jolt through him.

when she pulled back, he blinked, feeling his face heat in a way he hadn’t felt in years. it wasn’t just the kiss itself—it was the tenderness behind it, the softness in her eyes. he was so used to her sharp edges, her fiery words, the way she’d dig her heels in when they argued. this version of her—gentle, warm—caught him completely off guard.

"goodnight, trent," she said softly as she opened the door, stepping out before he could fully process what had just happened.

he watched her walk to her door, pausing only to wave briefly before disappearing inside. sitting there in the quiet of his car, trent touched his cheek, the spot where her lips had been still warm. he exhaled deeply, leaning back in his seat, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t quite put into words.

she always managed to throw him off balance. but tonight, it wasn’t her sass or stubbornness that had him reeling. it was the way she let her guard down, even if just for a moment. and he realized, as he sat there replaying the evening, that she had him more hooked than ever.

y/n's home felt colder than usual as y/n paced near the window, the faint street lights flickering against the glass. she wasn’t sure how this conversation would go, but the weight of it pressed heavy on her chest. jadon was leaving for germany tomorrow, and despite all the ups and downs between them, she owed him a proper goodbye.

the knock at the door came softly, almost hesitant. when she opened it, jadon stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, looking as boyish and familiar as ever. for a moment, it reminded her of better times, the easy comfort they used to share before everything got so complicated.

"hey," he said, his voice low.

"hey," she replied, stepping aside to let him in.

they settled in the living room, both of them keeping a careful distance. the silence between them was heavy but not hostile, and for that, she was grateful.

"so," jadon started, leaning back against the couch, "i guess this is it. back to dortmund."

she nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. "it’s what you need, though. a fresh start."

he gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "yeah. but it’s not just for me, you know. i think it’s for us too."

her brows furrowed, and she shifted uncomfortably. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he said, sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees, "we’ve been stuck in this loop, y/n. hurting each other, trying to fix things, and then hurting each other all over again. maybe it’s time to let it go."

the words hit her harder than she expected, and she blinked quickly, willing herself not to cry. "so, this is you ending it?"

he shook his head, his gaze soft. "it’s not about ending anything. it’s about moving on the right way. you’ve got your own thing going on here. i’ve got mine back there. but that doesn’t mean i don’t care about you."

her chest tightened, and she looked away, focusing on the floor. "it’s just... it’s hard, jadon. you’ve been a part of my life for so long."

"i know," he said gently. "but you’ll be fine. you’re strong, y/n. stronger than you think."

jadon sat back against the couch, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair. "y/n," he started, his tone softer now, "you’re worth so much more than this... than being in some non-exclusive, undefined relationship. i should’ve realized that sooner. i’m sorry for hurting you, for making you feel like you weren’t enough."

her eyes widened slightly at his words, her throat tightening. "i’m sorry too," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "i didn’t mean to keep going back and forth with you. i guess... i didn’t want to be alone."

jadon gave her a small, understanding smile. "i get it. but you shouldn’t settle for less than what you deserve just because you’re scared of being alone. you’re better than that, y/n."

his words sank in, and she nodded, unable to meet his gaze. the weight of their shared history made the moment feel heavier than she anticipated.

he hesitated for a moment before adding, "but i need to ask you something."

she looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. "what?"

"trent," he said plainly, watching her reaction. "is he treating you right?"

her cheeks flushed instantly, and she shook her head quickly. "it’s not about trent," she said, her voice defensive.

jadon tilted his head, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "i can tell, y/n. the way you talk about him, the way you look when his name comes up—it’s the same way you used to be with me."

her blush deepened, and she crossed her arms over her chest, feeling caught off guard. "jadon, stop. it’s not like that."

"if you say so," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "but if it is, just... make sure he’s good to you, alright? you deserve that. and if he’s not, well," he paused, leaning forward slightly, his smirk fading into something more serious, "you know where to find me."

his words were surprisingly genuine, and she felt a pang of gratitude amidst her embarrassment. "thank you," she murmured, her voice soft.

jadon smiled, the tension between them easing slightly. "no problem. i just want you to be happy, y/n."

they sat there in silence for a while, the weight of the past years settling between them like a soft hum. and for the first time, she felt a sense of peace about letting go.

but as she walked him to the door and watched him leave, the reality of trent’s words from earlier came rushing back. the way i see it, real or fake, when i laid my lips on you, y/n, you became mine.

she pressed her back against the closed door, her skin still burning from the way trent had looked at her, the way his words had cut through her defenses. she didn’t know what to make of it all, but one thing was clear: whatever this was with trent, it was different. and it terrified her.

© PDRIESTA 2025

[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daughter

A/N: Hello Guys. Again, I am really sorry for not posting in so long. Took me a while to gain the motivation again but it's not fully back yet. But you get a (very) little chapter now. Oh and I wish you all a happy new year. Thanks for all the nice comments <3

Chapter XVI

It’s been a few minutes and he hasn’t said anything. He studies me, again. He always does that, silently trying to find my flaws. Innea doesn’t find that funny as well, as she grumbles in annoyance behind me.

‚Be careful. The black beast won’t like it, if you incinerate his rider.‘ I warn her, knowing that she’ll absolutely ignore it.

‚Codagh can fuck off, as if I’ll ever listen to what he says‘ she spits out.

I smirk, which the man in front of me doesn’t likes.

„You have an … interesting dragon, that chose you.“ I can practically feel the distaste, that radiates from him. Innea huffs, clearly as offended as I am. 

„She is perfect, I don’t care what other people think about her. She chose me, and I am honored to be her rider. I’ll hopefully fulfill her demands wisely and without .. flaws.“ I say.

„She is nothing special, just from the same den as the dragon from Riorson. And you are surely not special either. You are not to fulfill her demands, but those of Navarre, are we clear? This is why you are here, to defend the kingdom against any threat, no matter the form.“ He hisses while stepping closer.

„Are we clear, Cadet Melgren?“ He also has to emphasize the last name every time so that I am reminded of who (he says) has power over me. Not anymore.

„I am here, to defend those who cannot defend themselves. I will listen to whatever SHE demands of me, no-one else. I am NOT-“ I can’t react fast enough. The blow echoes across the flight field, loud and clear. No one dares to speaks. My head snaps to the side violently and my cheek burns. I can hardly believe it, but he actually dared to hit me in public. Not that anyone would intervene, no, that would be suicide. But now it is obvious that I am not enjoying any benefits. Only pain. And punishment.

Innea is furious, mad even. She roars loudly, while coming close, her head tilted to my father. She bares her teeth and curls her tongue like she wants to spit fire.

‚I will KILL him! Codagh can surely fuck off but I will NOT accept any disrespect against MY rider!‘ she roars loudly in my head and over the flight field. 

The ground vibrates as the black monster approaches us. Its snout twisted into a nasty grimace. God, it is so ugly, and yet so powerful. I hate it with all my heart.

'Innea, don't do it. We are only at the beginning of our adventure here. I refuse to let this be the end. Please take a step back. I will sort this out with him. He will no longer have any control over me, but he is still the commanding general of the Navarrean army. So please, don't let yourself be provoked, as much as I want to rip both of their heads off aswell.‘

I can sense the stares of the other cadets, riders and leadership. I don’t dare to turn my head to see who is judging, who has pity in their eyes, or who is just observing (we all know who I am talking about). Innea still grumbles, mad and absolutely terrifying. Shuffling can be heard, when Codagh reaches us, tilting his into my direction, directly staring into my eyes. Out of my eye I can see blue. 

‚Sgaeyl is to the right, if he dares to attack‘ my dragon says.

She would .. protect us? 

‚They all would. You’ve got your wing at your back. They definitely would defend you and me. And your friends would be the first ones to come to your rescue.‘

Fuck, I will never be able to thank them enough.

I raise my chin, looking my father in his (cruel and cold) eyes, ignoring his dragon at his back.

„I apologize, General. For offending you. My dragon and I will work on it, to strengthen our bond and hopefully manifest a powerful signet to defend .. the kingdom. We will protect those who can’t protect themselves and fight against any threat.“ If he noticed the pause he doesn’t let it show. 

He nods. „I’ll see you in a few weeks.“ He steps closer, to close for my (and Inneas) liking. „If I hear just one misstep, or one mistake, no matter you or your dragon, it will be over for the both of you.“ He whispers. All I can do is nod my head. He steps away and leaves me alone with Innea. I can finally breathe again. Fuck, one day he will kill me.

‚He will not. I will not let anything happen to you. You are my rider, I chose you and we will survive this together.‘

Taglist: @puttyly @lxnvmvrzx @freyagallileaevans @aroacemushroom @dragonsandrinks

[percywinchester27]

The new Mrs. Winchester (19)

Word count: 4.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence; reader discretion is strongly advised.

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: A huge shoutout to all my wonderful readers! Your support and love keeps me going! <3

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23

“You can’t kick 'em in the nuts and make a run for it?” The girl in the next cell asked.

“Not if you want to avoid getting beaten into a pulp,” you told her through a mouthful of bread and tomato. “There’s always a guard outside the door.”

“Kick 'em in the nuts, too.”

You snorted so hard, bits of tomato landed on the floor.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “There are fancy rooms upstairs with wardrobes full of fancy clothes that you have to wear and then they take you to other fancy places for men–”

“Sometimes it’s just the fancy rooms overhead. Men come here, too.”

“But they take you out, don’t they?” She argued. “Just go to a reception and tell the hostess, a waitress, anyone. I know you managed to run away once… so why not try again? If they let you out, it can’t be that hard!”

You swallowed the bite in your mouth and sighed. What did it matter if you told her the truth? Neither of you would make it out anyway. 

“They’ve kidnapped my half-brother and half-sister. Little kids, barely six… have them at gunpoint somewhere. I make one wrong move and they are dead.”

“Shit.”

You could picture her dumbstruck expression. After spending a week next to her, seeing her face while going in and out, you were starting to get a hang of her. You still didn’t know why you did it, take her turn every night. Eventually, they would drag her out, but for a week, the boss wasn’t in the building and no one seemed to push the inevitable and drag that girl’s stubborn ass out. 

And boy was she stubborn. She bit and clawed like a wild cat at the guards who tried to drag her. She got plenty beat up in the process, but everyone seemed to wait for the boss to get her in line when he came. 

“Don’t you worry,” she said. “My fiance is going to get us out.”

“Fiance?”

“Yeah. I bet he’s worried out of his mind right now. But there’s police. They’ll find us.”

“The police are in on this,” you said. “They get serviced for their quiet.”

She spat, then screamed in frustration.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, and blood froze in your veins. You recognised the hard tap and unforgiving rhythm of his steps. The boss.

“Go to your bed and pretend to sleep,” you hissed, discarding the sandwich in your hand and doing the same. 

“W-what?”

“Just do it.”

Covering yourself entirely with the blanket, you rolled into a ball, as if that would make you invisible, teleport you out of the horror story you were about witness. Since staring at the glass wall in his cabin for the first time, you had prayed for yourself. The pastor in the church your aunt dragged you to every Sunday preached that one should only pray for the world and not for oneself… because praying for oneself was selfish. If you prayed only for the world, that made you a good person, and God helped good people without having to ask for it.

You had never been particularly religious, but that one thing had stuck around. Subconsciously, all your life, you had never asked for yourself, not from God, the universe or even as a favour from people. If you wanted something, you had worked hard to earn it, and achieve it by sheer will and not divine intervention.

But that first night with the boss had made you pray for yourself over and over.

And you prayed now, in whispers that only remained in your breath, never making a sound. 

God, let him forget that I exist… Not tonight. Please please please.

The footsteps came to a halt, and the door next to yours opened.

You closed your eyes tighter. Oh, that poor girl. He had come for her at last.

“I hear you’ve been difficult.”

A spit.

“Michael,” he said in his cold, raspy voice. “Hand me my cane, now.”

“Yes, Boss,” said Michael, gleefully.

A slash in the air and a piercing scream sliced the air.

You shut your ears tightly as the scuffling began… but then it ended as suddenly as it had started when a loud, sickening crunch which sounded so close to the shared wall that you were certain it had happened against it.

A minute passed.

“Oh, what a terrible waste,” the boss sighed at last, almost delicately. “Remove it.”

The taps receded and then soon they carried her body by your cell, blood trailing behind her.

You sat up bolt in your bed, unable to keep the bile down as you emptied your stomach on the carpet next to the bed. Sam’s side of the carpet.

You plopped back on the bed, breathing heavily. 

“Just a dream,” you told yourself. “Just a dream.” Then, the reality came crashing down on you and you wanted to throw up all over again.

Abby’s quiet knock from the main door wrenched you out of bed and through the seating area. She didn’t have to see the vomit. Her face was pinched when you opened the door for her. She entered trepidly and placed the breakfast tray on the table. 

“Who’s in the house?” You asked

“Just us,” she said. “Mr Dean Winchester left last night itself.”

“And S-Sam? He’s out for his run?”

“Mr Winchester left for work.”

“It’s only 7.”

She gave you an apprehensive look, as if she wanted to say something but was scared of how you would perceive it.

“What is it, Abby?”

“Miss, he’s in a right state, that man. Before you came, he used to be so dry and detached… but this past month, since you first locked yourself in your room, he’s gone from pillar to post for you. Sleep, food, everything be damned. The only thing he has done is worry.” Her hand fluttered nervously to her side. “He stumbled down the steps this morning from exhaustion and still went for his run anyway. I think he needs to see a doctor.”

Abby didn’t know what had conspired last night.

“I don’t know the deal with his brother being back now,” she said, wrangling the corner of her apron. “But everyone knows they don’t get along. It can’t be good for him.”

Sam had looked exhausted last evening. The dark circles under his eyes, the once-fitted shirt that hung loose on his shoulders, and the ever-present frown on his forehead had become more and more etched now. 

“Abby, tell me when Sam is back, will you?”

You sent her away and cleaned up your mess in the bedroom. A hot shower further cleared your head. Taking stock of your time in the Winchester Mansion made you recount the number of times you had run out on Sam, locked yourself in the room, the number of secrets you had kept. So, he’d had his own secrets. You knew that. 

Then there was the fact that Sam had never explicitly said he hated his brother. In fact, he’d never spoken of him without pain mingled with love. His exact words- “We had a fight and I couldn’t see his face after that.” Couldn’t…. Not ‘Didn’t want.’ Nowhere had his words implied that Sam’s consent was considered.

The day appeared stormy, with an overcast sky. Maybe the light of the lantern would carry, perhaps it wouldn’t. You set it on the sill anyway.

Dean found you at the pier an hour later, when you had nearly given up hope. He stood at his usual spot but did not sit beside you and you noticed he was dressed differently; no jacket today, just a black T-shirt and jeans.

Slowly, you tilted your face upwards to meet his sharp green eyes. How often had you wondered what Dean Winchester would be like? Bitter? Angry? But Han wasn’t any of those things.

“Get up!” He ordered, without an ounce of remorse. You got to your feet.

“This way,” he pointed and began to walk towards the jungle without a preamble.

A frisson of annoyance ran through you. Where was his abashedness?

“Sam didn’t know,” he said briskly. “That you knew me. That we knew each other. That poor bastard had no damn clue.”

“You want me to believe you’ve been hiding out in these woods without Sam knowing?”

“Yes.” He came to an abrupt stop and you realised Dean was dead serious. “That kid’s as straight-jacketed as they come. Keeping up the charade nearly did a number on his head, and then you came into the picture. Sam’s nearly lost his goddamned mind over you.”

“He told you that?”

Dean sighed in exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening to a single word? I haven’t seen Sam in months, not since the fight. But he’s my only family left. I had to keep an eye on the kid.”

The trees were too damn thick for any sunlight to trickle down. Dean started walking again and you followed.

“What was the fight about, then?” You pressed, refusing to believe.

“You,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Two years before I came into the picture? Yeah, right.”

Dean tilted his head, weighing his words. “About the idea of you, I guess.”

“Wow, that clears it all up, doesn’t it?” You laughed sarcastically.

He stayed quiet for so long that you actually paid attention to your surroundings, finding the trail vaguely familiar in the thick trees.

“We were to be married in eight weeks,” he said, voice deep and achingly sad. “She’d come to drop off pie for me. Sam says he insisted on dropping her back, but I knew my Jo. She was stubborn that one. If she wanted to drive herself, nothing Sam said would’ve changed her mind. Nothing. Ellen called three hours later asking for her. We searched all night long, all through the woods, all the way two towns over. Nothing. Sniffer dogs couldn’t catch a trail. The police found her car two days later in New Mexico… and her body two weeks later face down in the lake.”

You wanted to reach out, say something… anything, but words failed.

“She hadn’t drowned, Y/N. She’d already been dead when they threw her in there. Post-mortem said haemorrhage… blunt force trauma to the back of her head, ligature marks, bruises…” He closed his eyes unable to continue. 

You knew bits and parts of what followed– Dean’s self-destructive tendency and Sam’s unwavering support. The latter won.

“Sam still thinks he’s to blame. That he should have somehow foreseen it. I know Ellen doesn’t disagree with him or shy away from throwing it in his face.” A mirthless scoff.

“I think the bigger part of her anger is because of what Sam did to you… and me.” You said. “Or rather, what she thinks he did to you and me.”

Dean sighed. “I owe Sam a lot more than my life, a sorry and a thank you. This whole plan hinges on his resilience.”

“What plan?”

He ran a hand through his hair, but his pace slowed down. “The detective working this case, Jody Mills… she’s suspected a human trafficking ring here for years. Every few years someone goes missing or a body mysteriously appears. But this thing has its claws in so deep that we can’t trust the entire PD.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He glanced at you briefly, and you saw the ever-present kindness there. “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ve figured out a bunch of this yourself.”

Nodding to yourself, you thought out loud. “Sam wasn’t keeping me around for sex, didn’t want to hang me as bait for kidnapping, so obviously he wants information about where I was but…” You vividly remembered the night when he’d held your bloody hand and then all but shushed your barrage when you had tried to spill it all in a haze. “He stopped me from telling him… He didn’t want to hear any of it.”

Dean chuckled. A sudden light sound in the pressing quiet. “And I just called you smart.”

“What?”

“For all your God-forsaken angst over loving Sam… Have you not considered him liking you back?” Dean narrowed his eyes as if he was judging your intelligence. “Obviously it’s hard for him to listen to what you’ve been through. Hell, I’ve choked back on what little you’ve told me. Why are you being so thick?”

Tears sprang in your eyes. 

He placed a gentle hand against your cheek. 

“Give yourself some credit, Y/N. As stupid as you’re being right now, how can you question your own judgement of Sam so easily? You took your time forming your opinion, didn’t you? So consider all proof objectively. He was on board with the plan from day one knowing it would wreck his reputation if I disappeared after transferring my inheritance to him, knowing he’d have to make himself a villain… all for Jo. The kid didn’t bat an eye before agreeing. What led to the fight was the very last step of the plan. After infiltrating the system, he’d have to be one of them and well…”

“Buy a girl,” you finished.

“Yes,” said Dean. The word hung heavy in the air. “Sam refused to do it at first, but it was the only way. It’s killed him since day one, Y/N. And yesterday when you said he’s no better than any of those men who hurt you…”

The tears now freely flowed down your cheek and right into Dean’s palm. He slowly directed your face into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh, what have I done?” You whispered into his jacket. 

Sam had banged hard on your door last night and you never gave him a chance to explain. Not a single word. If you truly loved him, how come the trust was broken this easily? And when you refused to speak, he’d respected your consent then, too.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you said. “I should’ve trusted him, trusted you. After all, you never coaxed anything from me. I–”

A thousand memories ran through your mind: Sam’s fingers holding up your corset, touching his hand for the first time in the entrance hall before, his laugh after the false escape from dinner. Sam handing you a portfolio, Sam showing you around the old guesthouse, his fingers slipping on your wet shirt in the barn, laughing with him on the floor of your bedroom, his voice as he read out poetry… and his lips when they met yours.

“Sam took to playing chess in high school,” said Dean as you moved back. “I don’t think he ever got too good at it, but he used to come back rambling about all these moves, the King's Gambit, the Scandanavian, the Sicilian. He didn’t have anyone to play against, so I learned the basics to humour him and we played every night before bed.”

He’d started walking again and you kept pace this time.

“So there we are one night, recreating some classic game from half a century ago and I played a different piece and well, what do you know, my king ended up in a position from where he couldn’t move. Thought I’d lost because that was the only square my King was safe in. But then Sam said that’s not what it was. I couldn’t be forced to move my King to a checked square, but it wasn’t currently checked. A stalemate is what it was. That’s where we are at, Y/N.”

“A stalemate?”

“Yes. We know pieces of information, but not the ones that actually matter. It’s our move next, but every square is checked, Y/N. We need to know.”

The dim lights of the dungeon came back to you and oddly the crack of the skull. “The operation is not local, definitely crosses state lines. The building where they kept me is somewhere along New Mexico's border. It’s a huge glass building, seven stories high. I don’t know exactly where but from the se…” you gulped. “From the seventh floor, I could see a tall red tower with blinking lights. They blinked all the time… like passing seconds… but slower than s- seconds. The boss sits on the seventh floor.”

“The boss?”

“I-I don’t know his name. No one does. They only call him ‘the boss.”

“This is good, Y/N,” Dean said eagerly. “What does he look like? How does he find these girls? How does he keep them?”

“He… He looks like any other white man, in his 50’s, maybe early 60’s but his eyes, he has the coldest gray eyes and his laugh...” You stopped, collecting your thoughts. “You already know how he gets the girls. Men as scouts, pretending to be friends or lovers, finding vulnerable girls with little in the way of family. Me… Rosalie. About keeping them, there are two ways. One is standard, get them hooked to heroin. Once you have that, they’ll do anything to get the next fix. But those girls don’t make much money, yeah? They aren’t polished. I was the second kind, for the richer clientele that don’t like the smell of drugs and want the girls alive and kicking. For them, guess, it’s easier to blackmail by holding a loved one hostage. Rosalie only had a mother and I only had Jamie and Danny.”

You told him about how your siblings were held hostage somewhere, and how you stayed in line just to protect them.

“There’s very little we wouldn’t do to protect them, wouldn’t we?”

Dean nodded, then came to a halt and you noticed with some surprise that you were standing in front of the wishing well. 

His fingers grazed the parapet's tally marks, and you voiced a long-lost curiosity. “Why do you have one extra?”

“That dumbass brought you here, didn’t he?” Dean snorted. “So much for our secret place.” But he didn’t seem to hold any grudge over it. “Dad brought me here right before Sam was born. Told me this was a magic well, so I needed to make a wish about what I wanted… a sister or a brother.”

“What did you ask for?”

“You see the extra mark there, don’t you?” He winked. “After the fire, I used to run out a lot, trying to find the well again. Wish my dead parents back, you know? Finally found it when I was twelve and Sam was eight. ”

“Seems like you’ve kept pace since with the tallys.”

Dean winked as if there was a secret to it, but didn’t share it with you.

“Come on, make a wish then,” he said.

“One is already due. I don’t want to burden the well.” You sighed. “Look, Dean. I’ll help you with whatever you want. I can draw plans of the building, and the street layout I could see from the seventh floor. Tell you the number of guards, the shifts, even the names of some of the clients, but I need you to promise me that nothing will happen to my brother and sister.”

“I promise.” 

The walk back should have seemed like an interrogation, except Dean held your hand as you described more of the place, the people, the process… the boss.

“I told you already, I don’t know his name,” you burst out when he questioned a third time. 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Did he… Did he hurt you? This boss?”

You laughed. One short, shaky laugh. “He had a wall full of these instruments… silver, gleaming and so cold.” Then there was the glass wall.

“Oh, that son of a bitch.”

“I wonder why you think Jo was involved in this,” you said, more to change the subject that anything else. “I mean she didn’t exactly fit the pattern.” Full family, doting boyfriend, well-to-do. Blitz kidnapping didn’t seem likely. The boss had to have had something on her.

“No, she didn’t fit the pattern and for a long time, we didn’t suspect her to have been in this.”

“How come?”

Dean’s voice reduced to barely above a whisper. “No obvious signs of… sexual assault in the postmortem report.” And despite the tragedy of it, Dean almost sounded relieved. He pulled out an old wallet from his back pocket and gazed at a picture inside lovingly. “I don’t know, Y/N, it makes me feel like an asshole but knowing that maybe she might have escaped the worst of it… God, I think it kept me from throwing myself off a damn cliff.”

“Oh, Dean!” You closed the distance in-between to hug him. “I bet she–” you gasped. The wallet hung loosely in his grasp and you glimpsed the picture behind the plastic. 

You grabbed the wallet and held it up. “That… That’s Jo? Your Jo?”

He took you by your shoulders. “You knew her?”

“Oh my God!” All the hurt and anger and fear came crashing down on you as you collapsed to the green earth of the side lawn. Over the years she had gone from being the girl in the next cell, to the girl with brown eyes, to the girl in your nightmares and eventually… the only thing you were proud of.

“She’s… she used to be the girl in the next cell. I knew her.”

“Who did this to her?” Dean asked, voice so sharp, it didn’t even sound his.

“The Boss did,” you whispered. “I think it might have been an accident. I only heard the scuffle and then the crack of her skull. It was quick. She didn’t suffer much.”

There was a sharp intake of breath over you and you didn’t dare look up.

“Dean, you should know, the girls there… eventually choose to stay there. I know I did. Once you stop with the kicking and screaming, it gets a little easier. The bad days are lesser and most clients don’t treat you like complete trash. There’s food on your plate at night and poor orphan girls have a bed to sleep in when they comply… they…. we stop fighting. Because there is no relief to fight for, no home to go to and no one who could protect us. But your Jo, she never stopped. I bet she took a few teeth out of that one guard, too.”

“Did they… did anyone ever…?” He could not spit the entire sentence out and you saw the courage it took to finally confront that question.

You looked straight in his tear-stained tortured eyes. “No one hurt her that way. I… I took her turns for the week she was there. I still don’t know why I did it. I’m not a charitable person, and it was hell that week, but something about her faith in her fiance reminded me of, well, me… before I found out how I got there. I wanted to protect her faith just a little longer. So, no Dean, no one touched her that way. And you should also know, she died like she lived, fighting and believing in your love for her.”

Dean hugged you and broke down. “Thank you… Thank you for doing that for my Jo,” he blubbered. “You’re… You’re like an angel. Sam said that you know… yesterday he said that he thought you were some kind of an angel when he first saw you dressed in white. Wasn’t wrong.”

And you broke down with Dean. The night had descended upon you, as you both held each other in the darkness and just cried. 

Much later, locked in the dining room, you drew the floor plans of the building from your memory, a map of the road and the way to the bus stop that you could remember, the names of the guards, physical descriptions, names of the girls, anything and everything you could think of. The maids all gave you curious looks. Getting along with a brother-in-law would be normal for most families, but an estranged brother-in-law who you had never supposedly met? Knowing the history they knew, that had to look shady.

As it turned out, Dean had been alternating between living in the Guest house in Sam’s room and a cabin further north that not many people knew of in the estate. He knew ways to sneak in and out better than almost anyone. Hired security was never too big a problem for him. He was to set out first thing tomorrow morning to see how he could use your intel.

“You know my roommate Carmen,” you said at the door when he was about to leave. “She might have been the only one to care for me back then. I fought with her the night before. If you can do one thing for me, find her and tell her she was right and I am so very sorry.”

“Of course.” Dean stepped up and kissed your forehead. “And Y/N, I’m going to get that bastard. Not just for what he did to Jo, but also for what he did to you. You said you didn’t fight after a while because you didn’t have a home, a family. Now you do. Remember that.”

You watched Dean head out. He would be gone before you woke up tomorrow, but you felt lighter than you had in years, like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. Upstairs, you found Abby in her room.

She stood up the moment she saw you. “Miss, is everything alright?”

“Yes, Abby. I was wondering if you knew when Sam would be back?”

“He was home earlier this evening but didn’t stay long. I believe he left for Colorado.”

Hurt. “Did he say anything about when he would return?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he ask about me?”

“No, Miss.”

“Did he say anything at all?”

The pitying shake of her head was enough for you to turn around and return to your room. What if you had hurt Sam beyond fixing this time? Abby had been correct, he looked fragile, not just physically, but something about the fragmented look in his eyes, as if one blow could shatter him. What if your hurtful words and vitriolic accusation finally pushed him to the edge? How much bullshit could one man take after all?

You had stepped into this house thinking you would be used, and it was the most horrid feeling in the world. What if Sam thought the same now? That you had used him… used his home, his wealth, and his empathy. Hell, you had used his body, too! 

No, you didn’t pray for yourself much. But in that moment you did- God, please give me one chance to apologise. Please.

*****************************

A/N 2: So turns out I was tagging all wrong :/ Ana is feeling sad about that. Hopefully, it will work this time.

Please do let me know what you think of this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

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[susiekern]

16. the one with the boys

a/n: after two important chapters, I present to you: this fucking thing

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.096

masterlist

previous | next

“Are they mad about it?”

“Nah, Toge almost cried about me getting a girl faster than him, but Yuta and Cho are actually pretty chill about it. They know it’s serious and all.”

“Shit, it’s so weird when you say it’s serious.”

Megumi’s eyes move towards you, giving you the meanest side eye in history. You’re on your way to one of the bars, so you can meet the rest of the Fallen, or more like just Megumi’s friends. It’s been a few days since you officially started dating, the right way this time, and it was his idea, believe it or not. The three of them are the closest people in his life, besides you and Yuji, and he wanted you all to meet and get along. You know Yuta, obviously, but you’ve only heard stories about Toge and Choso.

“I’m kind of nervous. What if they don’t like me?” Saying that, you furrow your brows. Megumi sighs and squeezes your hand tighter in his own.

“I couldn’t care less. Besides, Yuta already likes you, Choso is as chill as it gets, and Toge’s been following you on Twitch for the past few months. But don’t tell him you know that; he wanted to act all cool around you or something.” He says with a smirk. “And I’m not with you to show you off, they could hate you, and I wouldn’t give a fuck.”

Your smile is back on as you get on your toes to peck his lips. Before you pull back, one of his hands is on your neck, keeping you close and deepening the kiss.

“We’ll be late, Megs.” You laugh quietly, but that doesn’t keep the black-haired man away from you.

“They’re constantly late for rehearsals, I don’t care.” He murmurs, relishing your taste for a few more seconds. When he finally lets you go, your cheeks are blushed, and you have that glint in your eyes he loves so much. “If you hate them, you can just talk to Yuji or tell me, we’ll go home and watch that weird show of yours.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He opens the door for you, following close by as you enter the bar. It’s the middle of the week, so it’s relatively empty, which makes it much easier to find a booth occupied by the boys. The sight of Yuji’s pink strands soothes your nerves a little. He’s talking with Yuta and a black-haired man with a dark streak running through his nose bridge who must be Choso. There’s also Toge, you assumed, his white hair making him stand out from the group. He’s also the only one who’s not dressed in dark colors, with the pink t-shirt (that’s weirdly almost the same color as Yuji’s hair) and light jeans on. His focus is on his phone, tapping fast on it, until he notices you two coming their way.

“Gumi! Finally, I can’t deal with another minute of their boring shit.” Toge puts his phone down on the table and gets up to greet Megumi with a typical manly handshake and back pats. His brown eyes then land on you, and he smiles. “And you must be y/n?”

“Be nice, Toge. She doesn’t know how weird you are yet.” A much taller figure appears behind him, the man you recognized as Choso, based on Megumi’s stories.

“You don’t need to spoil it for her then, gosh. Give a man a chance.” Toge sighs and moves a little, so Megumi and Choso can greet each other. “The tall emo is Choso, I’m Toge, as you probably know already.”

“Nice to meet you both. Y/n y/l.” You offer them a smile and a polite head nod. Before you can say another word, there are warm arms wrapping around you, as Yuji almost jumps your way.

“Finally, a crossover episode.” He grins, squeezing your body and pulling you to the leather couch, where you quickly greet Yuta. Thankfully, without any awkwardness. You haven’t seen each other since your little date, only exchanged polite texts where you thanked him for the evening, not expecting that the next time you’ll meet will be like that. With you, meeting your boyfriend’s friends. The universe has a weird sense of humor, you have to admit.

“I’ll do that, and you all will see. It’s a new way.” The evening is going great; it turns out they’re all as welcoming as you could ever ask for, and it’s not long before the conversations are flowing naturally.

They share a few funny stories about Megumi, asking you how you’ve met Yuji in exchange; Toge admitted to following you, to which Choso reminded him about the time he called you a “twitch baddie” in their group chat. You’re really enjoying this. Megumi is by your side all the time, keeping a hand on your thigh or at the small of your back, smiling almost constantly. It eased his mind to see you getting along with his friends, something he was anxious about, even if he’d never admit it. He doesn’t keep a lot of people close to himself, so the sight of you joking around with his support group warms his heart in a way.

“Toge, I guarantee saying random food items won’t make you popular among the girls.” Yuji is shaking his head, barely keeping the laugh in. For the past few minutes, Toge explained his brilliant plan to the whole group, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or cry.

“It works for him!” The white-haired man says offended, brows furrowed as he looks around, looking for any support but meeting none.

“It’s a guy from an anime. He has a magic tongue, and you think it’s about saying salmon all the time?” Megumi lifts one brow before taking a sip of his drink.

“First of all, he’s a cursed speech user, he doesn’t have a magic tongue. And second, I even look like him!”

“When was the last time you looked in the mirror?” It was Choso’s time to stick a pin in. “If you look like him, then I look like the blood guy you talked about yesterday.”

“Yeah, I’m with Cho on this one, you don’t look nearly similar.” Yuji nods, eyeing his friend up and down.

“Just admit you all hate me.”

“Easy. But when did we start playing truth or dare?” You almost choke hearing Megumi’s words.

“Shit, and you say Nobara’s rude.” He rolls his eyes as you murmur, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“She is. You just don’t notice it anymore.”

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added!): @nytylie @fresa-luna @syrooo @zaranobiyuyu @jvpit3rr @pandabiene5115 @good-mourning0 @pearlydays @irwinchester @pxppetmxster @ivydoesit23 @zayuriluvs @applepi25 @s777athv @estella-novella @wgafa @pookalicious-hq @lovely-maryj @briezy04764

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter Eleven

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Surprise! It is not masala chai; today I have a regular black tea with milk and sugar.

In other news, in celebration of finishing book one I have purchased book 3! It should get here Friday, and I can't wait. Shout out to my manager for fueling my habits with the indigo gift card she gave me for Christmas.

Let's go chapter 11!!!!!!!!

They better stop! coming on immediately so strong with the most sincere and heartfelt title calling!! p355

"You were the groom?" he's saying these things like this man doesn't want to wife him right now. Xie Lian LOL watch what you're saying. p356

This chapter is too much. My heart! The flirting! "May I take these words as a compliment?" Can't you tell they're compliments? p357

Again mxtx and the worlds most complicated characters. Making me feel things, and second guess everyone's motivations. Re: Banyue telling xie lian and hua cheng that General Pei Jr isn't a bad person. p359

If Hua Cheng and Xie Lian both picked their fake names from the same poem, I hereby declare them soulmates. No take backs, it's done. p360

You know what, if all else fails, Xie Lian would make an excellent motivational speaker. "I want to save the common people" "Do what you think is right" "Nothing can block your way" The cutest little "hang in there" cat poster embodied. p361

THE CHEEK POKE! Followed by "Not bad" I am wheezing! This awkward man. p363

Oh no, my emotions. Hua Cheng about his true face, "I'll let you see it someday, if there's a chance" p364

"those were good words" poor baby flustered xie lian. He cannot handle a single sincere compliment from Hua Cheng. The pillow talk in this chapter is so dang cute! p367

Here I am reading these words and lowkey hoping that it was Hua Cheng who Xie Lian told to "live for him". My biggest question at this point in the series is why/when/how did Huan Cheng become so into Xie Lian. It feels like he's known this guy for a very long time. p368 (do not actually tell me this. it'll probably be revealed later, but with Xie Lian, unreliable narrator, I feel like it'll be right before the extras LOL).

BRO LEFT HIM. WITH A PROMISE THEY WOULD MEET SINCERELY AGAIN. AND LEFT HIM A RING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG this is so precious, TOO MUCH. p372

I totally thought the end of this chapter would ruin me

I was NOT wrong, but it was in a very unexpected way! I expected tragedy and I got the cutest fucking pillow talk, a PROMISE and a RING. WHAT.

[exonerin]

I was hoping you would love me again

[Obikin Fic][1/?]

I loved you.

His mother cleaned the wound, her gaze flitting from the sluggishly bleeding laceration to his face and back. Using animal senses, an inexplicable intuition, or an impossible sixth sense, Anakin knew she wanted to talk about it.

Too bad Anakin didn't. His lips pulled into a scowl, his eyes narrowing as his features set into a stubborn pout.

His mother didn't know things like Anakin did, but she knew him. So, she sighed, concerned and tired. Anakin won, but he could win the fight and still lose the war. Guilt settled in Anakin's stomach, a snake that coiled and hissed, baring its venomous fangs.

Its defense was a lethal attack.

I loved you.

The din of the slave quarters was white noise, a background sound so familiar it functioned as a lullaby. Now, it filled an uncomfortable silence.

Finally, his mother put the swab of bloody cotton aside, reaching for a strip of fabric torn from an old tunic instead.

I loved you.

As she bandaged his right forearm, the three words disappeared. Anakin's shoulders slumped, the spots behind his shoulder blades tingling with released tension.

"All done," his mother said, patting his head gently.

"Thanks, Mom," Anakin said, and his mother's lips quirked funnily. Caught between fondness, concern, and guilt.

It didn't matter.

I loved you.

Anakin Skywalker had a soulmate, and he would meet them one day. Most people never met theirs, but he would meet them one day. The love declaration adorning his forearm dictated so.

Anakin Skywalker also knew he would lose his soulmate.

I loved you.

His mother told him he had had the mark since his birth, his destiny predetermined by a universe that had pointed at him and said: you, little one, are made to suffer.

Because Anakin Skywalker's soulmate would only declare their love when it was already ground to dust. It was a futile love, doomed from the beginning because fate had said so.

I loved you.

Once upon a time, in a future yet to pass.

The Aurebesh characters mocked him, but Anakin hungered all the same. Oh, his soulmate's first declaration of love would be an ending to a tale, but the tragic finale etched into the fleshy part of his right forearm promised him this: Anakin Skywalker would meet his soulmate.

And his soulmate would love him.

He was wretched, for this love wasn't made to last, but his soulmate would love him nonetheless. He couldn't change this future.

The wound on his forearm scarred.

I loved you

His mother frowned when she looked at his soul mark. Both knew why Anakin had cut into his arm, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration, coincidentally also masking the pained grunts. They knew some wounds were invisible, the scars on Anakin's skin only hiding what festered underneath.

It didn't matter. If nothing ever amounted to anything, if Anakin was doomed to be miserable and alone, he wouldn't ever care. 

***.

Anakin Skywalker had believed the confession on his forearm was most wretched, most miserable. However, he considered Obi-Wan Kenobi when making this assessment.

One morning, early in his apprenticeship, Obi-Wan had raised a cup of tea to his lips, and his sleeve had fallen back to reveal text in a neat print.

I hate you!

Anakin had gasped, and Obi-Wan had given him one of those sardonic smiles. Scared that Obi-Wan would change his mind about teaching him, Anakin didn't say anything.

Yet, the words bothered him.

Only the first declaration of love, that very first confession, would show on a person's skin. Arguably, screaming at someone you hated them seemed counterproductive.

It wasn't a declaration of love.

In his room, Anakin pulled his sleeve back to reveal the scribble on his forearm. The scar had grown old, a thin white line. Barely visible across the elegant letters delivering a damning message.

I hate you!

I loved you.

***.

I can't give regular Wednesday WIPs on my current project (you'll understand why when I post the first chapter in a few weeks). But trust that the sand cat Obikin fic is progressing nicely. Instead, I figured I could post something else on Wednesdays in the meantime.

For now, it'll only be on Tumblr, but I might add it on AO3 at some point, and then the priority changes. Anyway, enough rambling.

[toytoriyadorm]

CHAPTER 5: Busy!

Yuukei pushed open the front doors of the gigantic dollhouse, no longer surprised by the messes this dorm likes to leave in its creative wake. Around them were tens of students, some bustling around with things like props to toolboxes and even the occasional outfit on a mannequin. Others, meanwhile, were either on the floor painting a set or at one of the bright pink tables sifting through a large stack of scripts.

A very busy day for Toytoriya, it seems.

With Grim peeking his head outside Yuukei’s school bag, the two walked up to a lively group of students. “Hi there, do you know where I need to go to see the dorm leader?” 

However, the group paid him no mind, ignoring him in favor of chattering about the recent changes made to the manuscript in front of them. 

“No, no, no. This still won’t work. Not against the star actor!”

“But it’s a solid plot!” A short student piped up, “A tragedy about a time traveler’s desperate attempt to fix what he’s lost! Simple enough to entice the audience but is still outside the box so as to not be cliche!”

“Uh, exc-” Yuukei tried chiming in.

“Do you think our dorm leader is looking for outside the box?? He voted for Neige during VDC even though all he did was sing a stupid kids’ song!”

“Hey, so-”

“N-not to put a pin in this debate, but…a reminder that if we’re changing the script we only have a day to implement the changes.” An elegant student with a dinosaur sticker muttered.

And with that comment, the crew in front of Yuukei went silent, breaking up in order to scramble with their– apparently– bad script. The Ramshackle student let out a sigh as his question went unanswered.

Unfortunately, the same thing would occur with the other Toytoriya members, all too engrossed in their dorm projects to give any attention to the newcomer in their midst. Any and all questions coming from Yuukei, Ace, and Deuce were met with “Sorry! Can’t talk now!” and “I don’t know, excuse me!”. As friendly as the prefect could be, he could feel his patience beginning to run low.

“Nyeh, Deuce, maybe you were onto something back at the entrance.” Grim glowered at the hectic scene from the bookbag. “It must have been a mistake for any of us to come at all…” 

“Don’t say that,” Yuukei glanced at his familiar, “It's just a busy time! There’s gotta be someone who can help us…”

Then, out of nowhere, Deuce and Yuukei felt a cold hand touch their shoulders. Whipping their heads around, the two jumped as they met the equally cold eyes of a red-haired student, who was smiling cheerfully. 

“H-hello!” Deuce said aloud, “Could you help us? We’re looking for someone.”

The girl nodded profusely, the extra limbs behind her sewing up a dress as she signaled to Deuce. 

“Oh thank god,” Yuukei sighed. “Now we can get back on track! Ace, let's hurry and- Hey, where’s Ace?”

The blonde student paused as he looked around, unable to spot his ginger-haired classmate amongst the commotion. Suddenly, the sound of metal crashing onto the floor and a few good swears turn the trio towards the front of the foyer, where both the lost Heartslabyul student and a drying banner are covered in fresh paint.

CHAPTER 6: Fight, Fight, Fight!

“No, no!” A Toytoriya student ran over to the now-ruined banner. “My assignment! My poor assignment!!” He pointed a finger at Ace. “You–!”

“Hey, I’m sorry!” Ace apologized as he looked at his now-colorful pants. “I didn’t see the paint, I’ll get out of your hair now!”

“No!” The student screamed, “You need to compensate me right now and fix this!”

“Compensate?!” Ace yelled back, “It's just paint, m-”

Before the “man” could slip out of the red-head’s mouth, he was met with a hard slap to the face by the student.

Deuce’s jaw dropped as the room went quiet. 

“Ah, this is starting to feel familiar.” Yuukei thought, as he watched Ace throw his fist right into the guy’s stomach.

“Henchman!” Grim yelled from the bag, “Looks like he got reinforcements, we gotta help Ace out!” 

As the two groups began duking it out, a crowd of pastel pink began to form around the area, entranced and horrified by the brawl in front of them. 

But once the accusing student pulled out his wand on Ace, intervention finally appeared. The student couldn’t even mutter a word as a glass box trapped the Toytoriya students in place.

“I leave for two minutes, and you guys begin fighting like infants?” A deep voice comes from the staircase leading upstairs. Yuukei looks up to see a disgruntled, older-looking guy with marks of what appeared to be black paint on his cheeks.If not for his uniform, he would have thought the man was a teacher rather than a student.

“Who started it?” He questioned, his tired eyes looking around the room with a threatening glare. The room immediately pointed to the newcomers, leaving Deuce and Yuukei to sputter out a futile explanation. But before the tall student could grab and throw them out, a voice broke through the silence.

“Ahh wait, wait!” The crowd broke apart, revealing a blonde student in what looked to be harlequin makeup. He appeared rather relaxed for someone who had witnessed a brawl. “Don’t go kicking people out just yet, Pat!”

“That’s a lot coming out of the student who was supposed to be managing in my place, Saturn.” The white haired student, Pat, replied, ignoring the trapped students banging on the magic glass.

“But I was managing! And keeping an eye out too…” Saturn trailed off, scratching the back of his shaggy, blonde hair. “Anyways, that Heartslabyul guy knocked some paint over, sure, but the kid in there threw the first slap.” He pointed to the group trapped in the glass box.

“Oh, really?” Pat turned his head to the now-terrified dorm students, who had all backed into the corner of the trap. With the wave of his wand, the contraption disappeared. “All of you, upstairs, everyone else, back to work! I know we’re all in a crunch, but the Festival is tomorrow, and your dorm leader would be disappointed to hear he can’t see everyone’s work because you all chose to watch a fight instead!”

[mmmthornton]

Oh my God my dashboard is actually full of Dunmesh stuff so I better make this post before it gets too popular.

There's a part later in the manga (bicorn chapter, so I'm gonna keep it vague for anime watchers but it might still be more than someone wants to read). In it, Chilchuck decided things are getting a little too chummy around here so he tells a lie about his own life to keep the rest of the party from asking about him or wanting to know more. Obviously, this is Dungeon Meshi so there are like, consequences that bring the party together, but I'm obsessed with a thing that happens BEFORE that. Kui is really good at making small character moments that inform a lot of their internal thinking (honestly reminds me of Spielberg at his best).

Chilchuck and Marcille spent most of the adventure being Haters together (love it), so he makes one of his Chil Jabs at her. You can tell he's expecting her to brush it off, or them to trade barbs as she calls him a stupid little asshole, whatever. But! She doesn't.

With the things he said earlier, he changed their dynamic and how she looks at him and she gets legitimately angry and hurt that he would talk to her like that, and accuses him (accurately), of ignoring his own biases and flaws by ripping into others.... And it totally shakes him! I'll find the panel later but you can see he's thinking "Oh....I really fucked up and I might've lost my hater friend in the process 😦😦😦". It's a sharp moment where the consequence that makes him reassess isn't what happens after, but it's losing Marcille's faith in him as a friend.

It's good writing! It's a really solid moment! ...................I can really relate because good Lord have I been there! Just wanted to say how interesting I find that part of Chilchucks character before any conversation about the show is beset by rancid discourse.

[akkivee]

rambling about the tdd manga because i can lol:

the entire thing sure did reinforce how convoluted chuuoku’s schemes are lol all that just to test run and create the drbs bruh 😭😭😭

the line at the end where ichijiku and otome are discussing how much more poignant the battles are because they brought them together and then forced them to fight is all sorts of fcked up y’all 😭😭😭😭😭😭

anyway from the beginning lol the mic otome uses is a different mic from even just the next chapter, i wonder if it’s just an non-finalized design or an early iteration of the mic???? like rio has a prototype mic and this is not that lmao. aaaaah but rio’s might be military grade prototype and otome has the version rei presumably finalised on his own???? a different version altogether???? hmmm 🤔

nemu is 16 in that first chapter and ichiro is 17 which would mean all the territory disputes, fixes, and mozuku’s plot to usurp mcd took place in a week lol hypmic’s timeline is SHAKY

(the official timeline helps this a little actually lol)

(maybe)

kuukou, swinging red flags from the beginning making fun of ichiro’s mom lol, also fcked around making fun of samatoki’s dead father and found tf out lmao

kuukou is an entire menace in the tdd manga i see why i had a hard time telling myself not to like him when he first showed up lmao

that theory kuukou might have some sort of brain damage wound up slightly reinforced when kuukou remembered sasara reused an old joke when he seemed to have forgotten that sasara is not funny by the time they reunited lmao he has a great memory in the tdd manga

(that joke sasara reused was only in samatoki’s presence too so kuukou also broke some sort of dimensional wall lmao)

speaking of sasara!!!!!!

ikeBOOBkuro????? really????? and then he had that dumbshit d🍆ck joke he made in dod the clowns DO NOT have rights!!!!!!!!!!

lol tho every time i read these early chapters with sasara, aramaki-san’s track 3 sasara always comes to mind lol like mcd sasara was intimidating actually that’s exactly why track 3 sasara is like that 😭😭😭😭😭😭

hmmmm are the special forces or whatever that tried to hijack the hospital jakurai worked at the same as rio’s special forces???? i’ll have to keep that in mind reading bbmtc manga lol

I STILL BELIEVE JAKURAIS WAVE TECHNIQUE WAS THE VERY FIRST ITERATION OF THE HYPNOSIS MIC TECH

still a little pissed mcd vs nb was the first drb in structure and symbolism (forced conflict created by a higher ruling power used to gain/reinforce power by said higher power and wound up entertaining the masses) and yet sasara and kuukou were booted out of the narrative like that

there was a moment where i Almost Almost considered that ramuda had started to consider bringing sasara and kuukou into his plans in chapter 11 based on how pissed he looked after ichijiku told him they brainwashed them. it’s more likely that ramuda’s mad another ‘him’ died more than anything but it’s nice to consider lol

the terrorist scene where nemu and the baby yamada bros got kidnapped is still insane btw

iconic samajuto first(?) meeting lol lemme just handcuff myself to this man who is already listening to me said juto lmao

NEMUS NERVES OF STEEL FR AN OLD MAN THREATENS BODILY HARM TO HER BUT LITERALLY NOBODY IS SCARIER TO HER THAN HER FATHER SO SHE NEVER FLINCHED

JIROS FIRST BETRAYAL ITS NO WONDER HE STARTED ADOPTING SOME OF ICHIROS SELF PRESERVATION LESSONS

THE FACT SABURO BLOCKED NEMU OUT FROM HIS MEMORY SO LIKELY THIS ENTIRE KIDNAPPING????? PLS PROTECT THE CHILDREN HE HAS PTSD YALL AT 11

and what was UP with that orphanage director in the first place???? who do you choose: money grubbing, child labour exploiting for hoes orphanage director or murderous, gets off on torture and sells children for their superiority complex orphanage director

like WTF????

(also: that extra bb tdd chapter is fcked up too you know mozuku only told ichiro about that first director wasting funds because he wanted to replace him with his associate 🤬)

the face nemu makes when samatoki starts kicking her kidnappers while they’re down help 😭😭😭😭😭😭

in the final tdd bonus, they adapted jakurai’s story he told to dohifu during their championship celebration and used that story to show jakurai had already been slowly awakening his ability. so i think it’s incredible smic didn’t suffer from hearing loss after slamming sticks into their eardrums lol maybe that’s where sensei’s ability started forming

kuukou in chapter 9: man check out all these cute girls!!!! 😁

kuukou in the nb drama track: why tf would you pay to talk to women????

(very unrelated instances lol but hilarious out of context tho)

kuukou and sasara going home in the same direction gave them time to talk and get to know each other and i wanna know what their conversations were about soooooo bad bro 😭😭😭😭

mcd/nb break up Did Not Happen I Do Not See It 😑

that moment where samatoki tells nemu ichiro’s kindness is his weakness because he saw ichiro’s breakdown over kuukou leaving him is— it’s kinda— 😭😭😭😭😭😭

yotsutsuji is an unsung mvp in this manga lol look at all the legwork he put in managing territories and finding intel

tdd was the group ramuda made and it was the group he made for himself but it was never his in the first place 😕

but if yotsutsuji never found out ramuda’s secret, or here; if yotsutsuji didn’t manage to send jakurai an email about it, idk if rmjk would have separated???? like what was the plan for jakurai??? ramuda said jakurai was his nirvana so i guess until chuuoku forced it, kp likely would have stayed together huh?? 🤔

ramuda: chuuoku kidnapped your brothers ichiro!!!!!

ichiro: AGAIN?????

me: damn took the words right out of my mouth lmao

samatoki’s beef with ichiro came from the lies they had nemu tell samatoki but like,,,,,,,,,,,, i kinda wanna know how the damage would have shaped if nemu hadn’t been brainwashed and went on her own will,,,,,,,,,,,

like ichiro admitted he likely would have done the same thing as samatoki but that hurt and betrayal at that moment……..????? well ig it’d go the same way in the end lol

chapter 9 had a conversation with rei and otome where rei praises her son for having balls lol so dice was on the run by 18 and making a name for himself lol i need to keep that in mind for a certain few chapters in both fpmtr runs

i thought it was interesting the battle that brought japan under tdd took place in osaka lol

also came out of this experience wondering once again when did ichiro get his hypnosis ability lol like ramuda already had his jakurai’s developed throughout the story, as did samatoki’s on the dl, but ichiro????

also came out of this very concerned for what this story has in store for nemu again lol like the way rhyme anima put focus on what she could possibly do as well as the end of this manga having otome and ichijiku musing her ability and skill might rival ichijiku’s 🤔

ooooooh and that kp bonus chapter!!!!!! ramuda had jakurai suffering under that waterfall lol like he was about to contract hypothermia after a little bit and ramuda ‘reasons’ it’s good training for taking hits without being knocked out SO YOU KNOW WHO REGULARLY TRAINS UNDER WATERFALLS FOR HOURS AT A TIME WITH A FOCUS BASED ABILITY HARAI KUUKOU—

[voulezloux]

.

[ambrosiagourmet]

I want to talk about why I think this is the one of the most important Falin panels:

So, Falin is really nice, right? It's one of the first things we really learn about her. She's kind even to the monsters of the dungeon - choosing to ward the party rather than fight spirits and cause them needless harm.

In the above early flashback in chapter 11, we see Marcille fawning over Falin's kindness, calling her an angel. Namari calls her soft-hearted. We see Falin choose not to fight even when a zombie attacks - instead she resolves the confrontation with a hug. After the flashback, the first thing Senshi says is that Falin "sounds like quite the person," which Marcille strongly affirms.

At this point in the story, all we have seen of Falin are these impressions; she is a healer, an angel, a caretaker with an infinite well of kindness towards everyone she meets - both friend and foe.

And honestly, that remains most of what we have to go by to understand her. The only times we get to see Falin on the page, alive and just herself, are in the opening and closing pages of the story and in the brief period of time after she is resurrected.

Nonetheless, we do have some more details to work with. For one, there is the scene that The Panel is from - a short memory in chapter 75, when Marcille flashes back to while she's dying. In that scene, Falin prepares to teleport them all out, and says that she's sorry "if there is a person at [their] destination." And that's when we get The Panel.

If you teleport someone or something into another person, the person teleported into is likely to be, at minimum, severely injured. They could die.

We can see a lovely little horrifying example of exactly why in one of the Daydream Hour doodles:

So, hmm. That's not... that's not SUPER nice. Certainly not displaying the same "kindness to all, friend and foe included" we saw represented earlier. On a basic level, this adds some nuance to Falin's kindness. We see it break a little, when pushed to the limit. We see her chose to protect the people she loves above all else.

Which makes sense! As Laios says when the Winged Lion accuses him of similarly being motivated more by his friends' safety than everyone else in the dungeon, "...most people, aside from virtuous do-gooders, would feel the same way."

So, we can take The Panel as simply showing a moment of weakness for Falin. A time when she was pushed to her limits, and that "most people" selfish side of her shone through.

However... I think there's a little more going on with Falin than just her being an angel 99% of the time, except just that once. I love The Panel because I think it helps us understand that Falin isn't just motivated by kindness - she also has a desire to avoid seeing people in pain.

Isn't that the same thing?

No, no it very much is not.

Let's look at a short comic from the Falin section of the Adventurer's Bible, because I think it illustrates this point perfectly. The group is complaining about how much Marcille's healing hurts, and comparing it to Falin's, which "doesn't hurt a bit." Marcille retorts with the following:

Now, the punchline of this comic is that, despite Marcille's sentimental assertion that she's "thinking of [them]" by letting her healing magic hurt, they all still prefer to be healed by Falin.

But hey, this wouldn't be the first time that Dungeon Meshi hides a very real character beat or insight in a gag, so let's think about this somewhat seriously.

If Marcille is right (and she knows a fair bit about magic, so we can assume that she has at least somewhat of a point), then what Falin is doing isn't kind. I suppose if someone specifically requested to not feel the pain, it could be kind, but that's not really what happened here. She is the one who felt badly about the others being in pain, and she is the one who decided, without telling them or giving them a choice in the matter, to take away that pain.

Both Marcille and Falin are healing the party, but Marcille is doing it in a way that accomplishes the task in the most straight forward way, without any additional interference. Falin is going out of her way to perform the healing in a way she is more comfortable with. A way that avoids pain.

Going back the The Panel, I don't think its a coincidence that the only time we see Falin (well, non-chimera Falin) willing to do something that could hurt someone is when any potential pain will be far away from her. If she got someone hurt or killed by teleporting the party to the surface? Not only would it be far out of her sight, but she'd be dead before she had to deal with any consequences of that action.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She doesn't push when Marcille won't tell her the truth about the resurrection, and she comforts Laios about her own death - both of those things happening in the only full chapter she is alive and conscious in the whole story.

We also know that she considered accepting Shuro's proposal, despite not having any special feelings towards him, and that Falin never explained to Marcille that she wanted them to share a meal together. When she brought Marcille various foods at the academy, she just accepted Marcille's confused rejection and gave up.

And lastly, we know that she is still in contact with her parents, despite the neglect and abuse she suffered at their hands. Although the way someone chooses to handle contact with abusive or bad family is a complicated topic, which I don't want to overly simplify, I do I think this fact gets at the heart of how she handles conflict.

So many people that Falin loves have hurt her. There are understandable hurts, like Laios leaving the village, or Marcille not understanding the food. And there are bigger, far less justifiable hurts - like her parents neglecting her throughout her childhood, and sending her away to be alone at the magic academy.

It doesn't seem like Falin has ever confronted any of it directly.

And the unhealthy aspects of this kind of avoidance of pain and confrontation is one of the things that the story of Dungeon Meshi is all about. We see Laios grapple with it before he goes to kill Falin, and we see Marcille acknowledge it at the end of the story, when she tells Laios that she has come to terms with Falin's death:

Eating is a part of life. Consuming other living things is a part of life. It isn't really possible to avoid that pain - you can only hide from the truth of it. You have to be selfish everyday. You have to eat - to choose to live. To choose to take up space.

And this is something Falin embraces, too. She comes back to life, after all.

We see her choose to come back to life.

And how does she make that choice? She eats. She consumes, and then she is asked a question by the manifestation of hunger itself:

Do you want to eat more?

There is a double meaning in the Winged Lion's final words on the next page.

When I first read this, I took it as him saying: life is cruel. You will suffer. You will feel more pain.

But perhaps, especially for Falin, this also means: you are choosing a path where you must cause pain. Where you must consume. Where you must take, and must be selfish. Because eating is the special privilege of the living, and it is their burden, too. In order to stay alive, she will need to keep eating.

And she chooses that. Chooses to be selfish. It's why her resurrection scene is so important, and it's why The Panel is so important. Because Falin coming back isn't the ultimate reward for all of the party's hard work.

It's her choice. Just like it was her choice that started everything in the first place. But this time, she doesn't choose to accept causing pain for the sake of Marcille and Laios. She does it for her own sake.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 7

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! non-descriptive mentions of vomit

A swing and a miss, again.

Rafe’s game was all over the place, he hadn’t been able to focus in batting practice all week, and now it was the bottom of the ninth in Academy’s rivalry match against Kildare County. He was down in the count when he asked the ump for a timeout.

He had resisted the urge to look in the stands the whole game, afraid he knew what he would find, or rather, what he wouldn’t.

You usually sat behind the dugout, wearing his old jersey that he’d given you after his record-breaking freshman season, and his number in black eyeliner on either cheek. Sometimes, it would take a few days for it to wash off, and you’d show up to school with the hint of his number still faded on your skin. 

No one - not his coaches, not his teammates, certainly not his father - could read him like you could. Sometimes he’d pop his head out of the dugout between innings so you could tell him his swing was a few seconds too early for the pitcher’s fastball, or that he needed to stop chasing the backdoor slider. You were never wrong.

They’d tease him in the dugout, tossing sunflower seeds at him and taunting, “what is she, your hitting coach or your wife?” Then he’d ignore you for a few innings, though he almost never got on base without checking in with you first.

Your absence from this game was glaring, one of those same teammates taunting, “can someone please get Cameron’s hitting coach on the phone for fuck’s sake?” after his third strikeout.

He’d brushed it off, but now the game was on the line, and he realized he’d endure any amount of teasing if it meant looking up and seeing you in the stands.

He stepped out of the batter’s box, took a deep breath, and craned his neck to your usual seat, hands gripping the bat tighter when his fear was confirmed - it was empty.

He struck out, and they lost the game.

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It’s actually about to happen, the moment you’d wished for on every star, every eyelash, every birthday candle since you were six years old. The moment you never thought would actually come. You’ve played this scene in your mind a million times, what your first kiss with Rafe would be like. None of the many versions took place in an alley behind a Florida nightclub, but none of them were real either, so now was not the time to be picky. 

Rafe’s thumb was still lingering on your bottom lip, the rest of his long fingers caressing your jaw. 

“Can I? Please?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, dimples creasing his cheeks so handsomely, and leaned in. You realized you were holding your breath as you awaited the first brush of his lips against yours.

It never came. The door to the club slammed open, making you both jump. Your already thumping heart flew to your throat as Kelce stumbled out the large metal door.

“Woah, sorry,” he jumped back, smirking at the sight of you and Rafe pulling away from each other quickly.

“What could you possibly need from me right now?” Rafe said, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in warning.

“I came out here to find her,” Kelce pointed at you. “So calm your ass down.”

“What is it, Kelce?” You asked gently, hand on Rafe’s arm to hold him back as he started stepping menacingly toward his friend.

“Something’s wrong with Carter,” Kelce said.

“What?!” Your face flooded with concern, you started toward the club, and Rafe didn’t stop you, knowing the sound of your sister’s name dashed any hope he had of keeping you in this alleyway.

“What happened?” You asked Kelce as you brushed past him back into the crowded club, Rafe following behind the two of you.

“I don’t know, she got into an argument with Top and then she stormed off,” Kelce shouted over the thundering music as he struggled to keep up with you.

You scanned the whole club, but couldn’t find her, just Topper ranting emphatically to Tom in the corner, and Sabrina and Maddie on either side of the bathroom door, trying to talk to someone on the other side.

Kelce and Rafe were lost to the crowd as you beelined toward the bathroom, forcefully pushing angry clubbers out of the way to get there. You didn’t care, you were locked-in on finding your sister.

“Is she in there?” You asked as you approached the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Maddie confirmed, looking worried, and a little queasy. “But she won’t let anyone in.”

“She’s so wasted it’s crazy,” Sabrina added with a hiccuping giggle.

You ignored her lack of concern for your sister and banged loudly on the door.

“Car? It’s me,” you shouted, “you gotta let me in, alright? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

After a moment, and the thought that you’d break this fucking door down if that’s what it took, the handle finally turned. She opened the door just a crack to let you slip through, and closed it back firmly behind you.

Sabrina wasn’t wrong, Carter’s intoxication was written all over her face. Flushed, clammy skin and bloodshot eyes. She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight enough to knock the wind out of you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You asked nervously.

Before you got an answer, she was on her knees in front of the toilet bowl. You rushed to grab her hair and hold it back, getting it all out of the way with just seconds to spare before she got sick.

Thinking through the day's events, you realized no one had eaten much before you left the house, and you knew this group well enough to know it didn’t take much for them to get hammered. What you didn’t know was that while you were distracted with Rafe, the rest of your group was in the club throwing back drinks and racking up tabs like the world was ending.

Rafe was having a similar realization out on the floor, trying to wrangle everyone to the front door where he had a pair of cabs waiting. He physically dragged Topper away from the bar as he demanded another drink, the bartender shouting that he was cutoff. He led Maddie and Sabrina away from some sketchy looking guys who were inviting them back to their house boat, which they proudly advertised held gallons of their homemade moonshine. He stopped Tom from sucker punching a guy who booed when the DJ played a Drake song. He lost Kelce twice.

Once he had finally corralled everyone into the cars, he convinced the drivers to hold up so he could come back and find you. He stood by the bathroom door until you appeared behind it, jumping at the sight of him standing so close.

“I got cabs waiting,” he yelled over the music, eyeing Carter sprawled out on the dirty bathroom floor behind you.

“I can’t get her up,” you told him defeatedly, eyebrows knit together with worry. “She’s not doing good.”

Rafe brushed past you without a word or a second thought, and leaned down to scoop Carter up with ease, fireman carrying her out of the club like your own personal Superman. You followed closely on his heel, feeling guilty that you were thinking about how strong his shoulders looked and not how concerned you were for your sister. 

You opened the door so he could lower her into the first cab, which only had enough seats left for you and her. Once you slid in behind her, leaning her head against Maddie, who was already dozing off with her forehead pressed on the window, Rafe made sure you were settled before closing the door.

He motioned for you to roll down the window, ducking down so he could lean on it.

“Yo Rafe let’s go man!” Topper yelled from the cab behind you before Rafe could speak.

“Give me a fucking second!” He yelled back.

Forearms against the window sill, he leaned in close enough so only you could hear.

“Just, um, don’t stop thinking what you were thinking in the alley.”

Your lips twisted into a smirk, “couldn’t if I tried.”

He gave you a wink before hurrying back to the other cab.

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You didn’t stop thinking about it. You didn’t stop when the cab driver took the wrong turn and made the trip twice as long as it should’ve been. You didn’t stop when Carter asked the driver to pull over every five minutes so she could hurl on the side of the interstate. You didn’t stop when you finally got Carter up to her room, ranting incoherently about her argument with Topper. You didn’t stop as she kneeled in front of the toilet bowl again and you held her hair back, attempting to soothe her with gentle shushes.

You should’ve been focused on your sister and the awful night she was having, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the shape of Rafe’s mouth.

The thing that finally pulled you from your thoughts of him was a sight you hadn’t seen in almost a decade; Carter started to cry. 

Carter never cried, she was your rock, the shoulder for you and all her friends to cry on. She didn’t cry when she fell off the monkey bars in third grade and broke her arm, or when she was rejected from her dream school, or even when your parents got divorced. But here she was, on the cold tile of the Airbnb bathroom floor, bawling.

“Hey, hey, woah,” you said, alarm ringing in your mind as you rushed to sit beside her on the cold tile floor. “What’s going on?”

“I’m such a mess,” she gasped between sobs.

“Well, for starters we need to get you a makeup wipe,” you countered.

“No I mean, like, emotionally,” she wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, only for a new round of drops to fall and further streak her mascara down her skin.

Your sister spent her life running from difficult emotions. It was something you tried to gently point out to her many times, but she’d typically push it away with a sarcastic joke or just ignore you altogether. 

You started therapy about a month after you got to college, taking the university health center up on its free psych eval offerings for freshmen. You’d shown up to your therapist’s office every Wednesday at 2:30 since then, religious about not missing a session. 

You recommended Carter do the same, but she’d just brush you off with a teasing, “nah I don’t need all that, I’m supposed to be the normal one, remember?”

Taking the hint, you stopped bringing it up after a few months. But now, with Carter’s tears pooling on the floor of this Airbnb, you wished more than ever that she’d listened to you.

“Well, that’s okay,” you gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. “It’s okay not to be okay.”

Carter laid her head on your criss-crossed lap and let the tears fall harder. You rubbed her back and continued to reassure her all was going to be okay, waiting until the tears began to slow and her breathing steadied to broach the subject again.

“Do you want to…” you swallowed, preparing for her to brush you off again, “do you want to talk about it?”

She was quiet for a long moment, you sighed in acceptance that she would pick the ignoring you route this time. 

Then, in a small, feeble voice, she whispered, “it’s too scary.”

“What is?” You whispered back, hand resting on her arm for comfort, praying she wouldn’t get spooked and would keep talking. 

“Loving him,” she confessed.

Your heart nearly burst. You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.

“Topper, you mean?” you responded.

She nodded slowly, “it was easier when I didn’t love him. I’m supposed to be leaving in a week. I’m supposed to be on to my next big thing, and all I can think about is what the best time to facetime him is if I’m six hours ahead. I should be thinking about me, but all I want is him, and that’s fucking terrifying.”

The thought sent her into another round of sobs, tears soaking the skirt of your dress. 

“I know it feels scary, and new,” you tiptoed to your point, “but…have you ever really not loved him?”

She thought over your words, but the alcohol and drama of the evening was starting to pull her into a restless sleep.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she mumbled, half-asleep already. “So much.”

“Let’s just get you into bed, yeah?” You said, pulling her up off the floor. “We can talk tomorrow.”

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In the darkness of Carter’s room, your phone lit up on the nightstand.

You pulled your arm from under her slowly, praying not to wake her up now that she was finally snoozing peacefully, though her deep snores were occasionally interrupted by shaky breaths, the aftershocks of her sobs. You’d gotten both of you changed and into bed with some difficulty, a strategically placed trash can next to her side of the bed just in case. You reached over to check your phone, turning the brightness down so as not to disturb her.

You had a text from a number that wasn’t saved in your phone, starting with the same 252 area code as yours. You didn’t need to ask “who’s this?” because you’d know that seven digit combination on your deathbed. Deleting his contact from your phone had really been more of a cathartic exercise than anything else.

‘She asleep yet?’ 

‘I think so but it’s been rough, what about Top?’

‘Same, but he’s out like a light now…and snoring like a jet engine.’

You stifled your laugh so Carter wouldn’t hear, keeping your movements slow as you climbed out of her bed and padded towards the door. Wincing at the squeak of the door hinge, you pulled it slowly closed until the handle clicked. 

Down the hall, the same click sounded from Topper’s door. Rafe stood with his hand on the doorknob, listening for any signs that his exit woke the sleeper inside.

His eyes flashed up to meet yours, and you shared a knowing, nervous smile. You each walked a few steps towards the other, Rafe immediately picking up on the water pooling in your eyes. You’d held it together up until now for Carter’s sake, wanting to be strong for her like she’d always been for you, but now the heartbreak of seeing her so upset was finally settling in.

“Hey, hey,” Rafe whispered, lengthening his strides to close the gap between you faster. “What’s wrong?” 

He ducked to search your face for a second, your small sniffles breaking his heart. When a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, he pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You let your arms circle his waist, not taking the time to worry if this was strange or if you were okay being this vulnerable with him, just reveling in the comforting smell of him and the rise and fall of his sturdy chest under his t-shirt.

A few more tears slipped out, but with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while you breathed him in, your sadness faded slowly into a calm reassurance.

“You good?” He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arms still wrapped around his torso.

“I just didn’t know she was so sad,” you explained, your lip trembling slightly at the thought of your sister, with all her strength and tenacity, slumped over on the bathroom floor. “I should’ve been paying closer attention. I came on this trip for her and all I’ve been doing is thinking about myself. I’m so selfish.”

That thought caused more tears to roll down your cheeks. Rafe placed a palm on either side of your face, his thumbs reaching out to swipe away the salty drops.

“You,” he said firmly, his voice just above a whisper now, more concerned with making sure you heard what he had to say than making sure not to wake anyone, “are not selfish.”

Once your tears were dried, he lifted your face towards him so he could look in your eyes. You ever-so-slightly nuzzled your head into his palm, wondering if he could even feel the gentle way you were surrendering to him. His soft grin told you he could.

“He’s a mess, too,” he nodded back toward Topper’s door.

“I love them, but those two are exhausting,” you chuckled softly. 

Even as the conversation lightened up, his hands didn’t fall from your face, and your arms stayed firmly in place around him, just holding each other as you whisper-laughed about the antics of the whole group this evening.

“Sabrina said you had to chase Kelce half a block,” you giggled, and he’d never felt so relieved to see someone’s tears give way to laughter. “Your dad instincts really kicked in there, huh?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, his eyes creasing with the upward tick of his lips, “the way you basically parted the crowd to get to Carter? Topper might have competition for house mother. Maybe we’re the real mom and dad.”

You snorted at that.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you blinked back, “just funny that you’re already talking about being parents when you haven’t even kissed me yet.”

Rafe nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips, feigning seriousness, “you’re so right. We should probably do something about that.”

“You should probably do something about that,” you taunted.

His persona cracked and he laughed, eyebrows raised.

“Oh yeah? Should I?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling at him as he leaned forward, eager to recapture the moment that had been so unceremoniously stolen from you a few hours ago.

Just before your lips touched, a vile retching noise came echoing down the hall from Topper’s room. He was vomiting again, and the romance was zapped from the air.

Your head fell back in frustration, groaning.

“You wanna go for a drive?” Rafe offered, hand sliding down your arm to find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there.

You nodded quickly, a smile replacing your annoyed frown. He led you down the stairs fast and you padded behind excitedly, giggling at his speed and urgency. 

“Shit,” he paused before reaching into the bowl on the kitchen counter where everyone was keeping their keys. “I forgot Sabrina blocked me in.”

“We’ll take Carter’s jeep,” you offered, fishing around the bowl until you found her fuzzy pink keychain. “She parked on the road.”

“She won’t mind?” He asked.

“I have a feeling she’s gonna be out for a long time,” you pointed out. “I’m driving though.”

“Just like old times,” he grinned, your heart doing cartwheels at the memory.

Fingers intertwined, you let him pull you away from the house, and the risk of any more interruptions.

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The sky glowed with that pre-sunrise blue fog, turning the world around you into a collection of navy silhouettes. The only shape you cared about seeing was the faded profile of the man in the passenger seat next to you.

Though the air still held the chilly nip of dawn, it was warm enough to roll the windows down, which was always your preference. Your hair whipped around you in a frenzy of wind. You could feel his eyes on you as you drove, but you didn’t look back, suddenly filled with nerves, butterflies crowding your stomach and doubt flooding your mind. You just kept driving, suddenly terrified of what would happen when you stopped.

After a few minutes of unreturned eye contact, Rafe finally tore his gaze away from you, poking around Carter’s car to have something to do with his hands. He opened the glove box, and the middle console, fidgeting with every little button and knick-knack he could find.

You smirked at his restlessness and kept driving straight, not entirely sure where you were going. Rafe opened the sun visor above him, gasping at what he found.

“No fucking way,” he laughed with a disbelieving shake of his head, “Carter has CDs? Still?”

He pulled the sleeve of CDs from the visor’s clip, inspecting them closer. 

“Wait,” a slow smile bloomed on his face as he observed knowingly, “these are yours.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because they’re the same ones you had in your car in high school.”

“Didn’t think you’d remember,” you scoffed.

“I remember everything about you,” he said, like it was the most obvious and casual admission anyone had ever made.

Even with the cool morning air blowing in through the window, the car suddenly felt too hot. Too hot and too small. Your chest and neck bloomed with a nervous blush as your breath quickened. How were you supposed to respond to that? 

Rafe kept sorting through the CDs, nodding at each one in recognition, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb into the conversation.

You needed to fill the silence before he noticed the tornado of anxious thoughts tearing through your mind. 

“You gonna pick one?” You urged him, eager for the sound of familiar music to erase his words that hung in the air between you.

He finally made it to the back of the plastic sleeve, to a familiar silver disc decorated in sharpie in your handwriting; your favorite homemade mix that you’d played every single day from ages fifteen to seventeen.

You’d titled it “car mix,” though a more accurate title would be “Rafe’s mix.”

Sometime during your freshman year, you’d spent a whole day sitting in front of your computer, meticulously sorting through songs that made you think of him, or that you wanted him to listen to, hoping he would hear them and finally understand you somehow. It was a love letter without words, and he’d heard it a thousand times, but you doubted he ever really listened. Par for the course.

“I think that one got scratched,” you tried to discourage him from playing it, the flashback to your desperate, lovestruck younger self a little too much to handle at five a.m.

Rafe turned it over in his hands, inspecting it for those so-called scratches, finding nothing satisfying.

“Looks good to me,” he disagreed, popping it into the CD player and beaming bright as the first song began to play through the speakers.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “it’s like we’re in a time machine.”

You agreed, the familiar opening notes of the first song you’d picked for him sent you flying back in time, to a girl you thought was long dead, and the boy next to her, whom she’d loved to her grave.

Chills shot up your spine, a warning shot before the tears that were beginning to gather on your lash line. You pulled the car quickly to the side of the road, sand flying up with the screech of the tires. You realized then that you’d somehow found your way to the public beach, the parking lot empty and sandy shore free of any sunbathers or surfers.

Rafe turned the music down, looking at you quizzically as your foot slammed on the break. Before he could ask what was going on, you were pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing off your seatbelt, hopping down from the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind you. He scrambled for his door handle as you started walking quickly toward the water and away from him.

The salty air was so thick you could taste droplets of seawater on your lips before you were even halfway to the shore. The waves crashed violently, remnants of the week’s storms throwing the water back and forth until it was foaming and angry.

Angry. You were as angry as the sea, sand kicking up with each stomp of your foot as you hurried as far away from him as you could possibly get. His long legs were already catching him up to you as he chased you down, calling your name.

Despite your efforts to outpace him, you could feel him gaining on you, nearly at your heel by the time your toes touched the water’s edge. Flight would not be an option, it was time for a fight.

“You remember everything?” You whipped toward him, nearly knocking him over with the force of the glare that met him. You stalked toward him, catching the way he backed up just a step before squaring his shoulders and planting himself until you were nearly chest to chest. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Rafe?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked desperately, scrambling from the whiplash of your sudden outburst. “What the hell just happened?”

He was genuinely so clueless as to the reason for your sudden shift in mood, reeling like he was mentally still back in the car listening to music, eyes scanning your face as he tried desperately to catch up. You almost took pity on him. Almost.

“I can’t,” a lump lodged itself into your throat and you bit your lip for a second to hold it down, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“What? Can’t do what?” He begged for clarity.

You just shook your head, a final plea to your own tears not to fall in front of him, but they betrayed you, one single drop slipping down your face. You turned from him quickly as a final ditch ending to hide them from him, and stepped away further down the beach.

“No, no wait, please wait,” with two easy strides he was close enough to touch you, wrapping his hand around your wrist to turn you toward him. “Don’t do this to me. You said you’d remember the alleyway, we were so close. We are so close.”

“Are we?” You challenged him. “If we’re so close then why can’t I even ride in the car with you without feeling like I can’t breathe? You don’t get it, Rafe. You don’t understand that every memory feels like a fucking sucker punch.”

“Then let’s not focus on the memories,” he suggested, “I just want to be with you right now.”

“Why now?” You burst out, another tear breaking through the barricade and sliding traitorously down your cheek. “Why not then?”

They were the two questions that plagued you since you saw him on the beach. You felt you knew the reason. You looked different, he was attracted to this version of you. Even though it would hurt like a bitch, you really wished he would just admit it, that he only wanted you because of how you look now, so you could finally just hate him and move on.

Instead, he continued his time honored tradition of giving you the exact opposite of what you wanted.

He looked straight at you, no waiver in his voice as he said, “because I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t good enough.”

It was the perfect answer, and your worst case scenario. Heartfelt, honest, a hot knife to the wall of ice you’d worked so hard to build between you and him. As he’d done so many times before, Rafe melted you.

Soft eyes, you tilted your head as you studied him, “and you are now?”

“No,” his laugh surprised you, scoffing as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “But I’m smarter. Smart enough to know that I’ll never be good enough for you. Who could be?”

The last chips of ice melted away entirely at those words, the image of his sweet smile when he said them etched itself on your heart in a way you knew was completely permanent. 

As so often happened when you were at a crossroads with your own mind, you heard Carter’s voice ringing through your thoughts. Though this time, it wasn’t a quippy comment about Rafe, or a catchy mantra to encourage you to hold your head high. Instead, you heard her weak, cracked voice as she cried on the bathroom floor just hours ago; “it’s too scary.” 

Suddenly, you knew exactly what she meant.

Your every instinct was to pull away from him, hide away the vulnerable thought to avoid any risk of him making it worse. But as he looked down at you, the first traces of sunrise streaking across the horizon, casting a gold-pink glow on his cheekbones, something in the back of your mind was saying you could trust him.

“I’m scared,” you all but whispered.

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, as if you were an elusive, wild thing that would run off at any sudden movement. When you didn’t flee, he took the chance to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, voice dropping low as he said, “I know.”

“How am I supposed to know you won’t hurt me?” 

Your deepest fears continued to flow out of you, into his waiting hands, praying he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“I don’t think you will until you give me a chance to prove it to you,” he countered.

You knew he was right. Holding him at arm’s length would never get you the answers you needed from him. You’d never know if he had really changed unless you got close enough to relearn him, and you’d never know how he really felt about you unless you gave him a second chance to show you. You aren’t generally opposed to second chances, more likely to give them out then, say, your sister is.

“You know what Carter would say?” You chuckled darkly, unable to detangle your sister’s voice from your own conscience even if you wanted to. “That you don’t deserve any more chances.”

“That might be the first thing I’ve ever agreed with her on,” Rafe was quick to acknowledge. “But you know what else she’d say?”

“What?” You asked with raised brows, skeptical that he had any clue what Carter would actually say, and knowing she would hate that he was claiming to.

“That you deserve a chance.”

Funny thing is, that’s exactly what Carter would say. She didn’t really know how badly you wanted him, that you were starting to suspect you might just be happiest when you’re with him, but she always encouraged you to do what made you happy, even when it was something she didn’t understand.

“And if I’m what you want then I just happen to be the luckiest idiot in the world, because I want you too. You have no idea how badly.”

The tide was coming in, the very edge of each wave nipping at your toes before being pulled back out to sea. Rafe’s confession made you feel so unsteady, you wondered if you’d crumble and get pulled out right with it. Your mind reached for anything to ground you before you drowned in him completely.

“Why?” You asked him, needing his answer like a port in the storm.

“Why?” He repeated, either confused by the question or by the need for it. Somehow, both possibilities annoyed you.

“Yeah, tell me why you want me,” you placed your hands on your hips, shoulders squaring up with him in challenge. “And you’re not allowed to use the word beautiful, or cute, or call me baby.”

“This kinda feels like a test,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah? Maybe it is,” you huffed. “And this time there’s no cheating, no open book. And no me to slip you the answers.”

“Can I get a few minutes to review my notes?” His cheeky pout was so cute you worried you were about to fold right there on the spot.

“Fine,” you allowed, “you get one minute to think about it.”

He feigned worry, faked stress, biting his thumbnail and looking out over the waves as if he actually had to think it over.

In reality, he was more prepared for this test than any he’d ever taken in his life. He’d spent years thinking about this moment, about what he would say, what he could say that would possibly be enough. 

While you waited for him to speak, you mirrored his stance, facing the water with your hands wrapped around you.

Rafe turned his head slightly to take in your profile, the sliver of daylight creeping over the horizon making your features glow so romantically.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you tried to focus on the count in your head, dutifully keeping track of the seconds until his allotted prep time was up.

Evidently, he didn’t need a timer, his voice broke the silence before you had even gotten to forty-five.

“Y’know, I got a walk-on tryout invite for baseball at Chapel Hill,” he started. 

You resisted the urge to look at him or respond, despite your mind racing to connect the dots between that statement and the challenge of explaining why he wants you.

“I was…so shitty,” he laughed at the memory, “I mean just awful. Striking out in the cage, my fielding was all over the place, I dropped a fucking pop fly. I’ve made that play a thousand times and the one time it counted, I dropped it. I mean, you wouldn’t have even recognized me out there. And the best part was that my dad came to watch. He bribed an old alum buddy to get him into closed tryouts just to watch me absolutely shit the bed.”

His smile faded.

“It was the worst day of my life. The coaches didn’t even call me themselves, they sent me an automated email to tell me I didn’t make the team. They were nice enough to send me some film from the tryout, though. I must’ve watched it a hundred times. I was spiraling like a bitch, just full on meltdown. I watched that film over and over, like some kind of torture. When I watched it, I just kept wondering how that guy could’ve ever been considered good.”

He turned to you, looking down at you intensely, hesitating for the first time since he started talking.

“I know I fumbled you. I knew it from the second it happened. And,” he swallowed hard, struggling with the next part. “I knew you were in love with me.”

Your head snapped to the side to look at him, face beat red.

“I was an idiot, but I wasn’t blind,” he continued before you could interject a defense. “The problem was never that I didn’t know, it was that I didn’t know why. But the way you looked at me, I don’t know, it made me feel like I must be like, somewhat good. Why else would you care about me if I wasn’t? But then when I was fucking rotting in my dorm watching that film over and over it dawned on me…you didn’t love me because I was good. I was good because you loved me.” 

Breath escaped you, eyes glossy as you let those beautiful words sink in, but he wasn’t done.

“I thought it was just a lucky break that I got you for four years. And of course I fucked it up, I fuck everything up. After those tryouts, I had nothing, no one. I failed my classes, dropped out of rushing a frat, I stopped talking to everyone. Shit, even my sisters were calling me to see if I was okay. I got it together eventually, kind of, but it’s never been the same. I have never been the same…since you. But then I saw you on the beach the other day, and it kind of hit me. The biggest loss wasn’t your love for me, or my fielding skills, or the bullshit frat parties. It was my best friend. You were my best friend. You were - you are - my favorite fucking person. When all that shit happened, you were the only one I wanted to talk to, and I couldn’t, I didn’t deserve to. But god, I’d give anything, anything, to have my best friend back. You don’t have to…be with me. I understand if you don’t want to. But please, can we just be friends again?”

You blinked up at him as he finished his monologue, all his words swirling around your head like cartoon birds, dizzying and all consuming. You wished it really was a test, cause then you’d have a printed copy that you could study and analyze and go over and over with different colored highlighters.

But it wasn’t a test. It wasn’t a metaphor. It was just you and the boy you love standing on the beach at sunrise, looking at each other like you were the only two people on earth.

“No.” You said, shaking your head.

His eyes blinked rapidly, trying and failing to hold back his emotion. Before he could spiral any further, you added,

“I don’t wanna be friends.”

His eyes flicked over yours for just a second, double checking, asking you silently if that meant what he thought it did. You gave him the slightest nod, as if to finally say “yes, Rafe.”

Rafe’s hands landed firm but gentle on either side of your face, pulling you towards him. Your lips met in a symphony of passion and affection and need and a mutual sigh of fucking finally.

He tasted better than you’d ever imagined, a sweet rush to your head as his tongue parted your lips slightly. He pulled back just an inch to let his uncontrollable smile break against yours, laughing into each other’s mouths in disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy. Once he was satisfied that you understood how happy he was, he pulled you back in. 

If the first kiss was a spark, the second kiss was a goddamn explosion. He kissed you like the tide kisses the shore in a hurricane, his tsunami waves crashing into you over and over again. His tongue took over, claiming you, taking up space in your mouth like he never planned to leave. His hands drifted, one to the back of your head, laced in your hair, the other on the small of your back, holding you against himself. Your hands snaked up his arms, savoring every inch of him until you reached his shoulders. You linked your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as you stood on your tiptoes to meet him, finding middle ground for the first time in your lives.

After a while, your lips parted, both of you desperate for breath, the lack of oxygen dizzying.

“So,” he smiled, hand still cradling your head and his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip, “did I pass?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it, “A minus.”

“What? You must be grading on a curve,” he shook his head.

“Maybe you could do some extra credit,” you flirted.

With a sly smile at that, he returned his lips to yours, and you forgot a time when you didn’t know what it was like to kiss him.

Time passed, the sun rose, night bloomed into morning, and Rafe kissed you for what could’ve been a lifetime. With each minute that passed with his lips on yours, you felt all the bad memories fade to gray, the past washing away with the crash of the waves, leaving only him. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Carter’s Jeep sat parked on the side of the road, the interior dark in the early morning light, except for the phones buzzing uncontrollably on each seat.

On the passenger's side, Rafe’s phone blew up with texts from Topper. The most recent reading ‘dude, we’ve got trouble at the house…’

On the driver’s seat, yours lit up with twelve missed calls and a single text from Carter,

‘Don’t come back.’

(chapter 8: part one)

a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕