#help they mean so much to me they are soooo silly.

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER EIGHT

“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 — 12k

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 — the longest chapter yet!

masterlist

the sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the garden as the rehearsal kicked off. the coordinator’s voice echoed over the light hum of conversation, directing bridesmaids and groomsmen into their pairs. y/n was busy adjusting her dress when a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

“looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

she glanced up to find rome, a cousin of cash’s, standing there, a lazy grin on his face. tall, dark, and effortlessly handsome, he looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine—clean-cut with broad shoulders and a voice smooth enough to convince anyone to break the rules.

“i’m not so sure you can keep up,” y/n shot back, crossing her arms with a playful smile.

rome chuckled, his dimple flashing. “oh, i can keep up. the real question is whether you can handle me.”

“you’re awfully confident for someone who just met me.”

“i like to live on the edge.” he held out his arm, wiggling his eyebrows. “shall we?”

“we shall,” she said, slipping her arm through his.

they made their way down the makeshift aisle, taking exaggerated, overly dramatic steps just to get a laugh. by the time they reached the end, rome was twirling her in slow motion, earning cheers from the bridal party.

“wow,” y/n said, catching her breath. “that was… something.”

“something great, you mean.” rome tapped his temple. “i’ve got a natural flair for this kind of thing.”

“right,” y/n teased, “because every wedding needs someone to steal the spotlight.”

“exactly,” rome said with a wink. “you and me? we’re the stars of this show.”

the next part of the rehearsal was the reception entrance practice, which gave them even more license to goof around. rome took full advantage, pulling y/n into a ridiculous cha-cha step, then lifting her for a spin like they were in some low-budget rom-com.

“okay, okay, put me down!” she laughed, clutching his shoulders.

“admit it,” he said, finally setting her back on the ground. “we’d be unstoppable on a dance floor.”

“fine,” she said, catching her breath. “you’re not terrible.”

rome placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. “not terrible? wow, way to humble a man.”

for a moment, she forgot about everything outside of this bubble—the rehearsal, the silly banter, the easy connection with rome. it felt like a rare moment of freedom, something light and uncomplicated.

but as soon as the laughter faded, the thought crept back in. trent.

it was always there, lurking at the edges of her happiness like an unwelcome guest. no matter how much fun she was having, something about rome’s charm couldn’t quite stick. it was like her heart refused to make room for anyone else.

after the rehearsal ended, y/n found herself sitting on a bench with zaia, their heels kicked off and the hum of conversation fading into the background.

“soooo,” zaia said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “rome’s cute.”

“he’s alright,” y/n said, playing it cool.

“girl, alright? he’s fine, and he was all over you. if you don’t lock that down, i just might.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “he’s fun, but…”

“but what?”

“i don’t know.” she paused, picking at the hem of her dress. “it’s like there’s something holding me back. i keep thinking maybe it’s not about finding the right person—it’s about letting myself feel something for someone who isn’t…”

zaia leaned in, eyebrows raised. “trent?”

y/n pressed her lips together, refusing to confirm or deny it. “we’re not even… anything.”

“yeah, but you’re not nothing, either,” zaia pointed out. “and until you figure out what that means, you’re just gonna keep scaring off every rome that comes your way.”

“ugh, you’re the worst,” y/n muttered, burying her face in her hands.

“i’m the best, and you know it.” zaia grinned, patting her shoulder. “besides, rome’s not going anywhere. he’ll be at the wedding, ready to dance for your heart, if you change your mind”

trent stood at the edge of the training pitch, hands on his hips, trying to focus on the drill in front of him. but his mind wandered—again. his touches were off, passes slightly delayed, the rhythm of the session broken because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

y/n.

it had been over a week since they properly spoke, her texts short and sporadic. busy with the wedding stuff, she said. it wasn’t like her to be so distant, but the wedding preparations were demanding, and he tried not to take it personally. still, the quiet in their usual conversations made him restless, left him craving the way her laugh made everything feel lighter. the way she always knew what to say, even when he didn’t.

now, he missed her in a way that ached more than it should’ve. it wasn’t just the silence that bothered him—it was the feeling of being left on the sidelines, watching her life carry on without him while he waited for her to invite him back in.

“trent, bro, what was that?” dom called from across the pitch, jogging over with a grin that was too knowing for trent’s liking. “you trying to pass to the other team now?”

trent blinked, realizing he’d just misfired an easy pass straight into one of the cones. “shut up, man,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“nah, nah, you don’t get off that easy,” dom teased, nudging him. “what’s going on with you? you’ve been off all morning. you sick? hungover?”

“i’m fine,” trent said, a little too quickly.

dom squinted at him, smirking. “ohhh, i see what this is. it’s girl trouble, isn’t it?”

“it’s not girl trouble.”

“so it is a girl,” dom said, crossing his arms. “let me guess… y/n?”

trent’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t bother denying it. dom was one of the few who knew how close they were.

“mate,” dom said, lowering his voice, “just call her.”

“she’s busy,” trent replied, kicking at the ground. “i don’t wanna be that guy, bothering her while she’s got all this wedding stuff going on.”

“but you’re gonna keep sulking like a lovesick teenager instead?” dom raised an eyebrow. “sounds like a solid plan, bro.”

trent sighed, running a hand through his hair. what was the point in calling if she didn’t want to talk?

he’d thought about it—about picking up the phone and telling her how much he missed her, how weird it felt not to hear from her. but every time, the words got stuck in his throat. because what if it was just him? what if she didn’t miss him the same way?

“just… give her time,” dom said, clapping him on the back. “she’ll come around. she always does, right?”

trent nodded, but the doubt lingered. he could wait, sure—but waiting didn’t make the silence any easier.

and as the session wrapped up, his mind wandered back to her again.

the way her eyes lit up when she was excited.

the sound of her laugh when she thought something was really funny.

the way her presence alone made everything feel warmer, better, more right.

he just wanted that back.

trent tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled out of the training grounds, freshly showered, the sharp scent of his body wash still lingering in the air. his windows were down just enough to let the breeze slip in, the hum of the city filling the quiet. but none of it drowned out the thoughts spinning in his head.

he had made it through training, barely. dom’s teasing and knowing smirks were still fresh in his mind—he hadn’t even denied it. couldn’t. because, yeah, he was distracted. had been for days now.

and all because of her.

she’d been distant lately, caught up with the wedding preparations. he told himself that was all it was. it’s not like she’s avoiding you, mate. she was busy, and he respected that. but still, the way his phone stayed silent stung more than he liked to admit.

he had missed her before, sure, but this felt different. heavier. like something unspoken was sitting between them, growing wider every day.

trent exhaled sharply as he turned onto the street leading to his house, his phone lighting up on the passenger seat. no new messages. no missed calls. it was enough to make his chest tighten again.

before he could talk himself out of it, he reached for his phone at the next red light, his thumb hovering over her name.

just call her. it’s not that deep.

but it was.

his hand lingered, his pulse racing with something he couldn’t quite name. the urge to call her pressed down on him, hard. the thought of hearing her voice, even for a few seconds, tugged at him like gravity.

he tapped her name, the line connecting as he drove, his grip tightening on the wheel with every ring.

once. twice. his heart inched up his throat.

three. four. he felt it in his chest—how much he wanted her to answer. how much he needed her to know.

five times. no answer.

then came the familiar click, her voicemail greeting, soft and impersonal.

trent stayed silent for a moment, the phone pressed to his ear, the weight of disappointment settling deep in his chest. he could say something. leave a message, trent. say anything.

but no words came.

he ended the call and dropped his phone on the seat beside him, the ache blooming in his chest almost suffocating. the radio played softly, but he didn’t hear it. his mind was elsewhere, replaying the sound of the dial tone like it meant something.

maybe it did. maybe it was telling him what he was too stubborn to admit—that she was slipping through his fingers. that this distance wasn’t something he could fix with a phone call.

or maybe you’re just too late.

he rolled into his driveway, sitting in the car longer than he should have, staring at his phone. part of him wanted to call again. the other part wasn’t sure he could take hearing that dial tone twice in one night.

so he didn’t.

instead, he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and trying to convince himself that this was for the best. but deep down, he knew that was a lie.

because no matter how much he tried to let her go, it always came back to her. always.

trent arrived at the wedding venue late in the afternoon, his bag slung over his shoulder. he barely took in the grandeur of the place; his only thought was find her.

his steps were quick, his eyes scanning the grounds until they landed on her. y/n stood near one of the arches, clipboard in hand, dressed in sweatpants and a cropped tank, her braids pulled into a loose bun. she was mid-conversation with the wedding planner, her brows furrowed in concentration as she gestured toward a table arrangement.

the castle looked like it had been pulled from the pages of a storybook, perched on a cliff with the ocean stretching endlessly behind it. the late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm, golden light, casting a soft glow over the cobblestone paths and ivy-covered walls. y/n stood near the entrance archway, clipboard in hand, dressed casually in sweatpants and a tank top, but somehow still managing to look effortlessly beautiful. she was deep in conversation with the wedding planner, her voice calm but determined as she gave instructions, her brows furrowed in focus.

trent stood off to the side, taking her in for a moment longer than he should have. god, how he missed this—the way she got lost in her work, the way she moved with quiet confidence.

he couldn’t help himself. with quick strides, he closed the distance between them, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

she jumped, spinning around in surprise. “oh my goodness, trent!”

he chuckled, his arm staying firmly around her waist. “sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing close to her ear. “couldn’t help it. i missed you.”

she rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “it’s only been a week.”

“a week too long,” he replied, his voice low and warm. “how are you holding up?”

“honestly? overwhelmed,” she admitted, her shoulders sagging just slightly. “i thought a year would be enough time to get everything done, but there’s still so much to do. i just want everything to be perfect for zaia.”

“it will be,” he reassured her, his hand gently rubbing her back. “you’re already the best friend and maid of honor she could ask for. everything’s going to be amazing.”

before she could respond, a voice called from behind them.

“y/n! there you are.”

trent turned to see a tall, dark-skinned man approaching with an iced matcha latte in his hand. he was dressed casually in tailored joggers and a crisp white tee, his confident stride and easy smile making him impossible to miss.

rome stopped in front of them, holding out the drink. “matcha latte—oat milk, light ice, one pump of vanilla. just how you like it.” he winked. “don’t say i never pay attention.”

y/n grinned, taking the drink from him. “thanks, rome.” she turned to trent, gesturing between them. “trent, this is rome, the best man. rome, this is trent.”

rome extended his hand with a charming grin. “ah, trent. finally, we meet. i’ve heard a lot about you.”

trent shook his hand, his grip firm. “all good things, i hope.”

rome chuckled. “mostly. she’s mentioned how you like to be… protective.” his eyes flicked back to y/n. “but don’t worry, mate. i’ve been looking after her.”

trent’s jaw tightened slightly. “appreciate that.”

but rome wasn’t done. he turned back to y/n, his smile widening. “we’ve been partners in crime through this whole wedding prep. i think we make a solid team, don’t you?”

“the best,” y/n agreed with a laugh.

rome nudged her playfully. “though i will say, you’re struggling to keep up with my moves. maybe we need to rehearse that reception dance one more time so you don’t embarrass us both.”

she gasped in mock offense, nudging him back. “me? embarrass you? please. i’m carrying this whole routine.”

“oh, is that right?” rome teased, leaning in just slightly. “guess we’ll see then.”

trent stood silently, watching the interaction, his eyes narrowing. something in his chest twisted, sharp and unwelcome. he didn’t like the way rome was leaning in, the easy familiarity between them.

he tried to tell himself it was nothing. just playful banter. but then rome’s hand brushed lightly against y/n’s arm, and that was it.

he cleared his throat, his voice calm but leaving no room for debate. “y/n, why don’t you show me where our room is? you could use some rest before things get even busier.”

rome’s eyebrows shot up at the emphasis on our room, but he didn’t comment.

y/n glanced between them, sensing the tension. “yeah… you’re probably right.” she turned to rome, giving him a small smile. “i’ll see you later, okay?”

rome winked. “don’t keep me waiting too long, partner.”

trent didn’t glance back as he guided her toward the castle, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. his mind was racing, heart pounding harder than it should have been.

she glanced up at him as they walked. “everything okay?”

“yeah,” he said, voice tight. but the truth was, it wasn’t. because for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure where he stood. and he hated that feeling.

the room was quiet except for the soft rustling of fabric and the low hum of the air conditioning. y/n was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress for the rehearsal dinner. it was the first time she’d had a moment to herself all day, but she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off between her and trent. he had been distant, colder than usual, and it was driving her crazy.

she looked up at him, glancing over her shoulder as he struggled to tie his cufflinks. “how do i look?” she asked, her voice casual, but the words came out a little softer than she’d intended. she hoped he’d offer a compliment, anything to break the tension that had been building since they arrived.

trent didn’t immediately respond. instead, he adjusted his cufflinks with a focused expression, his back to her. he looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, then back down at his wrist, fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. “you look fine,” he said, his tone distant.

y/n blinked, taken aback by how short his answer was. she’d expected more than that. the coldness in his voice stung, even though she tried not to let it show.

“i asked how i look, trent, not just that i look ‘fine,’” she pressed, crossing her arms in the mirror, studying his reflection as she spoke. “are you gonna just ignore me the entire evening, or do you actually want to have a conversation?”

he shifted slightly, his jaw tightening, but still didn’t turn to face her. his voice came out low, irritated. “i don’t feel like talking right now, y/n.”

that was it. she could feel her patience snapping in that moment. he wasn’t being himself, and she didn’t deserve to be brushed off like this—not by him, especially not tonight. not when everything had been so perfect just a few days ago.

“are you serious right now?” y/n asked, her voice rising slightly. “you’ve been acting like this all day. hot and cold, trent. this isn’t me, and it’s sure as hell not you.”

there was a pause before he spoke again, his words clipped. “i don’t want to talk about it, y/n. especially not with you.”

the words landed hard. y/n felt a pang of hurt, quickly smothered by rising anger. the way he dismissed her like that, especially with the way things had been going between them, made her blood boil. she hadn’t expected an easy answer, but the flatness in his voice was more than she could take.

“you don’t want to talk about it especially with me?” she asked, incredulous. “what the hell does that even mean, trent?”

she could see him stiffen in the mirror, his shoulders tense as if he was holding something back. but he still wouldn’t turn to face her, and that only made her frustration build. “this attitude of yours is ridiculous,” she snapped, “you can’t just shut me out and expect me to sit here while you brood in silence. you know better than that.”

there was a brief silence before he spoke again, but this time, his tone wasn’t harsh, just… empty. “i don’t have the energy to for this right now.”

y/n shook her head, her lips pressed together tightly. she had tried to keep it together, but now she was done.

“if you don’t want to talk, fine,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “but i’m not going to sit here and be treated like this.” she grabbed her bag from the bed and turned toward the door. “when you sort your attitude out, maybe we can talk. until then, don’t even bother.”

she paused at the door for a moment, turning back slightly. “and just so we’re clear—you’re not gonna ruin my best friend’s day. i’ve got a million things to do, and i’m not waiting around for you to figure out your feelings.”

with that, she left the room, the sound of her heels clicking sharply against the floor. she didn’t even hear him call out as she walked away, her frustration too heavy to bear any more of this cold silence.

trent stood frozen for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. he had wanted to say something, but the words had stuck in his throat, and now it was too late. he felt stupid, frustrated with himself for pushing her away like that. but he couldn’t find the right words—he wasn’t even sure if he could find the right words.

he turned to face the mirror again, his reflection staring back at him. a part of him hated how much he cared, how much he wanted to fix things between them. but all he had managed to do was make things worse.

and now, he was alone in the silence.

the dinner was everything it was meant to be—warm, joyous, filled with love in every corner of the grand hall. fairy lights cascaded from the vaulted ceiling, the golden glow casting everything in a dreamlike haze. the tables were lined with candles and soft floral arrangements, the dance floor already packed with guests swaying to the live band’s melody. laughter rang through the space, glasses clinked in toasts, and at the heart of it all was zaia and cash, glowing with happiness.

but trent wasn’t watching them.

he was watching her.

even though they were seated together at the head table, it felt like he hadn’t had a second with her all night. y/n had been whisked away for maid of honor duties the moment they arrived, moving through the room like she belonged to everyone, not just to him.

and how could she not?

she was magnetic. not because of her fame, not because of who she was to the world, but because of her heart.

he watched as aunties pulled her into hugs, kissing her cheeks like she was their own daughter. she crouched beside a grandma, gently touching up her lipstick with careful hands, whispering something that made the woman laugh and squeeze her wrist in thanks. she adjusted an auntie’s hair, fixed a crooked necklace, dashed back and forth to help zaia, all while making sure cash didn’t have a meltdown about whether or not everything was going smoothly.

she was in her element.

caring for people. pouring into them. making everything easier, softer.

trent knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that kind of care, and the thought made something tighten in his chest.

the mc took the stage, and the chatter in the hall quieted to murmurs. with a wide grin, he introduced the couple and their respected family, prompting the guests to turn their attention to the middle of the room.

zaia, radiant in her pristine gown, turned to cash as he pulled her close, whispering something in her ear that made her beam.

trent saw the way y/n watched them from the side of the stage, her hands clasped in front of her, likely running over the words to her speech in her head.

but he also saw the way the soft lighting caught in her eyes, the way something tender and aching rested beneath her expression.

he knew what that feeling was. yearning. longing

when it was finally her turn, the mc barely finished saying her name before the entire room erupted into cheers. trent sat forward as she took the mic, rolling her eyes playfully at the crowd before shaking her head.

“alright, alright,” she laughed, glancing at zaia, who was already dabbing at her eyes. “don’t start crying yet, or i’ll never make it through this.”

the guests chuckled, settling in.

y/n exhaled, steadying herself before speaking.

“i don’t really know where to start,” she admitted, eyes flickering between the bride and groom. “i feel like there aren’t enough words to describe how much these two mean to me.”

she paused, letting the weight of her words settle.

y/n took a moment to gather her thoughts, the warmth of the room settling over her as she looked at cash and zaia, both of them smiling up at her. she cleared her throat and smiled softly, a little more at ease now that she had gotten through the emotional part.

“you see, everyone knows me as the third wheel in this dynamic,” y/n started, her tone playful as she gestured to the two of them. “but what most people don’t know is that we didn’t start off this way. no, we met back in school—zaia and i were already seatmates, sharing laughs over the most random things, but then… a boy decided to turn our duo into a trio. i’m sure i can guess what you all are thinking, and yes, he was that boy—cash.”

there were a few chuckles around the room, and y/n winked as she went on. “and let me tell you, our first impression of him wasn’t exactly great.” she paused for dramatic effect, shaking her head with a grin. “he was the quiet kid, always acting like he knew more than us. but little did we know, that boy would change our lives in ways we never imagined.”

she caught cash’s amused expression as he shook his head, and the room laughed along with her. “but seriously, though,” she continued, her voice growing more sincere as she looked between cash and zaia, “there is no feeling quite like watching your best friends fall in love. and for me, i had the privilege to witness it—not just once, but twice. with both of them.”

there was a shift in her tone, soft and thoughtful. “it’s terrifying, honestly. because you don’t want them to get hurt. but in the same breath, you can’t help but be in awe of how effortlessly they love each other, how deeply they care. and that’s something that teaches you so much about what a relationship should look like. it’s not always perfect, but it’s real. and it’s beautiful.”

y/n smiled warmly at zaia, then turned her attention to cash, her voice full of affection. “cash… you are the older brother i always wanted. you’ve been a protector, a safe place, a provider of tough love—sometimes too tough, but i won’t call you out in front of all these people.”

the room filled with laughter, and cash gave her a knowing smile, shaking his head as if he expected that line to come. “but in all seriousness,” y/n added, her tone softening, “the way you love zaia, the way you take care of her… it’s something i’ve always admired. and it doesn’t just stop with her. it extends to all of us. to me.”

y/n took a deep breath, her chest tightening with emotion as she continued. “i can’t count the number of times you’ve reminded me of my worth when i forgot it myself. you’ve always been in my corner, and i’ll never take that for granted.”

cash’s jaw clenched, emotion flashing in his eyes as he nodded at her, his own way of saying i love you too.

y/n took a deep breath, letting the quiet settle over the room before she spoke again, her eyes locking onto zaia. the words that had been swirling in her heart finally found their way out, each one heavier than the last.

“zaia…” she swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling before smiling. “you are my sister. not by blood, but by something even stronger. there’s no one in this world who knows me like you do. you’ve seen every version of me—every mistake, every heartbreak, every high and low—and you’ve never once made me feel like i had to be anything other than myself.”

her chest tightened as she watched zaia’s eyes glisten, and she fought to keep her own tears in check. she had to finish, had to get these words out, because they were real—everything she was saying was real.

“you’ve taught me what it means to love without limits. your love is never conditional. never quiet. it’s fierce. it’s unapologetic. and i’ve seen how that love has shaped you into the incredible woman standing in front of me today. but even more, i’ve seen how that love has shaped me. it’s made me braver. it’s made me stronger. because of you, i believe in myself more than i ever thought i could.”

zaia’s lip quivered, her hand clutching y/n’s as she whispered, “i love you.”

“i love you too, more than you’ll ever know,” y/n whispered back, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “and i’ve never told you this enough, but you are my rock. when everything else in my life felt uncertain, you’ve been the one constant. when the world told me i wasn’t enough, you were the one who made me feel like i was. i’ve never met anyone like you, zaia. you are the heart of everything good. you make everyone around you better. stronger. kinder. you’ve taught me that love doesn’t have to be perfect to be real. you are proof of that. every day. in every little thing you do.”

y/n took a breath, trying to steady herself, but her voice broke a little. “and for everything you are… for everything you’ve done for me, and everyone who’s lucky enough to know you… i’ll always be grateful. i’ll always be here, standing by you, just like you’ve stood by me.”

zaia’s hand covered her mouth as she wiped her tears, her emotions so raw it was as if she were hearing these words for the very first time. “thank you,” zaia whispered, voice trembling.

“so this is to you, my sister. my best friend. my family.” meeting zaia’s gaze with a smile. “may you and cash continue to show the world what love really is. the kind that doesn’t need to be perfect to be beautiful, the kind that is always worth fighting for. i’m so proud of you, zaia. i hope you know that.”

the room was silent for a moment, all eyes on the two of them as they held each other in a long, tight embrace. y/n squeezed her best friend, knowing that no matter what came their way, this bond—this love—would always be unbreakable.

zaia sniffled, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe she was about to cry in front of everyone.

“you are love, in every sense of the word. and i am so lucky to have you in my life.”

y/n let out a breathy laugh, clearing her throat.

“together, you two are… proof,” she said softly, her eyes shining. “proof that real love exists. that it’s not perfect, but it’s worth it. that it’s something to fight for, to cherish, to protect. and every day, you remind me that love is possible.”

there was a quiet, meaningful pause as the room fell into a deep silence, and y/n looked up at both zaia and cash, her heart full. “so this is to you both, the couple who has taught me what it means to love fiercely and with no limits. to the couple who makes me believe in the possibility of love every single day.” she raised her glass higher, her eyes shining with sincerity. “may your love always be this strong, this unshakable, and may it inspire everyone around you, just like it’s inspired me.”

the room was silent now, everyone hanging onto her words.

trent was too.

his throat felt tight.

because she wasn’t just talking about them.

she was talking about herself.

y/n blinked quickly, laughing as she shook her head. “okay, i need to stop before i start sobbing, and cash will never let me live it down. to zaia and cash!”

the room erupted into cheers and applause, people clinking their glasses as zaia pulled y/n into a tight hug, whispering something in her ear that made her nod quickly, like she was trying to hold herself together.

trent could only stare.

his head was spinning.

because in that moment, as she stood there—emotional, open, her heart laid bare—he realized something he should’ve known all along.

he was in love with her.

so in love, it scared him.

the rehearsal dinner had been perfect. the kind of night people dream about, full of laughter, love, and overwhelming joy. y/n had given her speech, standing before everyone with a smile that was both proud and sentimental, her voice steady as she spoke about zaia and cash. about their love, their story, their future.

trent had watched her the whole time, barely listening to her words because he was too caught up in the way she made him feel. how, for the first time, something clicked deep in his chest—an understanding he hadn’t quite reached before. he was in love with her. hopelessly, stupidly, entirely in love with her.

but there was also something else, something darker, eating at him. something that had started at the rehearsal and hadn’t let up all night. rome.

rome, who had been at her side. rome, who had made her laugh. rome, who had his hand at the small of her back when they danced, his lips too close to her ear when he whispered something to make her smile. it had been driving trent mad, twisting inside him, tightening like a fist in his chest.

by the time they entered their suite. trent couldn’t shake his feelings of discomfort. not just a rome but his fear of wanting more with y/n. she stood on their shared bathroom in front of the mirror, fingers unclasping her necklace with slow, measured movements. the reception had been everything she hoped for—emotional, beautiful, a perfect night for her best friend. but as she stood here now, in the quiet of the suite, she felt an ache she couldn’t quite name.

trent was somewhere behind her, freshly changed out of his suit, moving around with an energy that felt… restless. he hadn’t spoken much since they got back. not in the car. not when they walked through the grand hallway of the castle. not when she disappeared into the bathroom to wipe off her makeup.

the tension between them had been brewing for weeks, simmering just beneath the surface. and she wasn’t about to be the one to address it.

she reached up to take out her earrings, catching his reflection as he came closer. her fingers stilled.

he was watching her.

his gaze was heavy, dark.

she swallowed, keeping her expression blank as she met his eyes in the mirror. “what?”

trent didn’t answer. he just kept looking, his head tilting slightly, like he was studying her.

y/n exhaled, forcing a small smirk. “you got something to say, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

still, nothing.

he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head with one swift movement, and she hated the way her eyes betrayed her, flickering down over the sharp lines of his torso, the familiar ink that stretched over his skin.

she tore her gaze away quickly, focusing on the clasp of her bracelet instead. “whatever, trent,” she muttered, pretending she wasn’t affected, pretending like she didn’t feel the heat of his stare seep into her skin.

but then he moved.

before she could react, his hands were on her hips, his body pressing against her back, firm and warm. his head dipped, breath fanning against the curve of her neck, and she knew what was coming before his lips even touched her.

“you really wanna act like you don’t want this?” trent murmured, his voice low, rough, dangerous.

her breath caught.

his mouth brushed against the sensitive spot beneath her ear, his fingers tightening at her waist. “you think i don’t see it?” he whispered, trailing soft, maddening kisses down her neck. “the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice? the way you let me get this close, even when you swear you won’t?”

she let out a shaky exhale, hands gripping the vanity. “you’re delusional,” she said, but the words came out weak, breathless.

trent hummed against her skin. “am i?”

his teeth grazed her shoulder, just enough to send a shiver down her spine.

her fingers curled into fists. “trent.”

“say you don’t want me.” he kissed up her neck, slow, deliberate. “say you don’t want this, and i’ll stop.”

her heart pounded. she should say it. she should lie.

but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

trent smirked, pressing one last lingering kiss to her jaw before pulling back just enough to look at her reflection in the mirror. “that’s what i thought.”

y/n’s resolve shattered.

she turned in his hold, fisting the fabric of his joggers, yanking him down into a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. trent groaned into her mouth, one hand tangling in her hair, the other gripping her thigh to pull her impossibly closer.

whatever fight she had left was long gone.

she’d deal with the consequences later.

the sex was urgent, desperate—like something they were both trying to prove. she could feel it in the way he touched her, rougher than usual, and she matched it, gripping at him just as hard, taking everything he gave her because she wanted to believe it meant something. she needed to believe it.

but then it was over.

trent pulled away first. he always did. rolled onto his back, running a hand over his face like he was already regretting it, like the fire between them had burned out the second he got what he wanted.

y/n turned onto her side, still catching her breath. she wanted to say something, wanted to reach for him, but then he spoke first.

“so,” trent exhaled, his tone sharp, bitter, “are you gonna run off to rome now?”

she froze, her stomach dropping instantly.“what?” she breathed, turning her head to look at him.

trent scoffed, shaking his head as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “don’t play dumb, y/n,” he muttered. “you think i don’t see the way he looks at you? the way you look at him?”

her jaw clenched. “what the hell are you talking about?”

he let out a cold laugh, finally meeting her gaze, and there was something in his eyes that made her chest tighten. “you want him, don’t you?”

y/n felt something snap inside her. “you’re insane,” she bit out, sitting up too, gripping the sheets around her. “how the hell did we go from this to whatever delusional shit you’re spewing right now?”

trent leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing. “because it’s obvious,” he said lowly. “you act like this is just some accident every time, but then you turn around and let him all over you? so what is it? am i just a backup? placeholder until you get the next guy you want”

the words stung so deeply she physically flinched.

she shook her head, anger and disbelief swirling inside her. “you’re disgusting,” she whispered, voice shaking. “i don’t know why i keep letting you do this to me.”

he huffed out another humorless laugh, looking away. “yeah?” he muttered, jaw tight. “well, maybe if you stopped opening your legs for me, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

as his words fell, so did the temperature of the room.

silence. thick, suffocating silence.

trent realized it the second the words left his mouth, but it was too late. the damage was done.

y/n just stared at him, her entire body going numb. she felt sick, like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

she had no words. nothing to say to that.

slowly, she reached for the silk robe on top of her bridesmaid’s pajamas, slipping it over her shoulders. she wouldn’t cry. not in front of him. not after that.

trent sat up quickly, his expression shifting. “y/n—”

“don’t,” she cut him off, her voice eerily calm. “not this times just don’t.”

he watched helplessly as she slipped on her slippers, grabbing her phone, avoiding his gaze entirely. he felt it—felt her slipping away, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

she walked to the door, gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. then, without another word, she walked out, leaving him alone in the mess he created.

zaia opened the door almost instantly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “y/n?” she mumbled, blinking in confusion. “what’s wrong?”

zaia held her tightly as y/n buried her face into her best friend’s shoulder, trying desperately to stifle her sobs, but it was no use. she let out a shaky breath, then another, and before she knew it, she was crying in earnest, her shoulders shaking as she let everything out. zaia didn’t say a word, just held her, offering the comfort that y/n needed but hadn’t known she was craving.

after what felt like an eternity, y/n pulled away, wiping at her eyes and trying to steady her breath. “i’m sorry,” she managed, her voice hoarse. “i shouldn’t be crying about this. it’s your wedding day, i—”

“respectfully, shut up,” zaia cut in, her tone firm but full of love. “any time, any place, any situation. i got you. you’re my sister. and you’re obviously hurt, so don’t you dare apologize for that.” zaia sat down on the bed, pulling y/n with her. “tell me what you need, sis. i’m here, always.”

y/n took a deep breath, trying to hold back more tears, but they came anyway. she wiped at her face and let out a small, bitter laugh. “i don’t even know anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “i feel like i’m losing myself. like, in monaco, everything just changed. i thought i was doing okay. i really did.” her voice trembled as she spoke, and zaia’s heart broke for her best friend.

“monaco?” zaia asked, her voice soft but curious.

y/n took a deep breath, her voice shaking slightly as she finally allowed herself to speak the truth. “zaia, i… i need to tell you something. something i’ve been carrying since monaco. trent and i, we… we slept together for the first time.”

zaia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t interrupt, her focus solely on y/n as she continued.

“i knew i liked him. i always have, but that night in monaco, it felt like everything was finally coming together. i thought it meant something, zaia. i really did. but then, he made it clear it was just… just sex.” y/n’s voice broke as she spoke, the weight of the words crushing her from the inside. “and i’ve never felt more worthless in my life. he made me feel like i didn’t matter at all. like i was just something to pass the time with. i knew, deep down, he didn’t care the way i did. but hearing him say it… it just… it broke me.”

zaia sat up straighter, her face softening with understanding. “y/n,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “you are loved. don’t you dare let him make you feel otherwise.” she held y/n’s gaze, the warmth of her sincerity radiating from her. “i love you. cash loves you. we all do. you are worth so much more than how he treated you.”

y/n wiped at her eyes, trying to stifle the tears that threatened to spill again. “i know, but it doesn’t stop how he made me feel. like i wasn’t even worthy of being more than a fleeting moment to him.”

zaia took a deep breath, leaning in as she spoke with a quiet conviction. “he can’t wrap his head around his own feelings, y/n. he’s messed up. and the way he treated you, it’s not a reflection of who you are. it’s all on him.”

y/n looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap as she let zaia’s words sink in. “i tried to move on from it, but i couldn’t. it’s like… no matter how much i wanted to convince myself it didn’t matter, it did. every time he pulls away, every time he acts like it’s nothing… it just feels like a dagger in my chest. i’ve been walking around, pretending to be fine, but it’s eating me up inside.”

zaia’s eyes softened as the realization hit her like a wave. she placed her hand gently on y/n’s shoulder, a quiet understanding passing between them. “that’s why you disappeared after monaco,” zaia murmured, her heart breaking for her best friend. “you isolated yourself because you didn’t know how to deal with all of this. you didn’t want to face it, and you felt like you had no one to turn to. i’m so sorry you went through all of that alone, y/n. i should’ve noticed.”

y/n shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t want to burden anyone. it was easier to just pretend everything was okay, even when it wasn’t.”

zaia cupped y/n’s face in her hands, her touch soft but insistent. “you are never a burden. you are not alone in this. you’ve never been alone. and i should’ve been there for you when you needed it the most.” she paused, squeezing y/n’s hands tightly. “i’m here now. you don’t have to hide how you’re feeling anymore. let me be here for you. don’t carry this weight by yourself.”

y/n finally broke down again, the tears falling freely this time. zaia’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t look away, didn’t say anything else. she just held y/n, letting her cry it out, her sobs filled with all the pain she had been hiding for so long.

“don’t ever think that boy is the reason you’re worth anything,” zaia whispered as she gently rubbed y/n’s back, offering her comfort. “he doesn’t know what he has, but we do. you are so much more than he could ever make you feel.”

y/n nodded, the weight in her chest lifting just slightly from the steady comfort zaia provided. “i don’t know how to let him go,” she confessed, her voice quiet but filled with resolve. “but i have to, right? for me. i have to stop letting him control how i feel about myself.”

y/n nodded again, a tear-streaked smile breaking through. “thank you, zaia. for everything. i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

zaia’s brow furrowed as she listened to y/n’s confession. “so, you’re telling me, you two decided to just… have sex, and you thought that would fix everything?”

y/n laughed bitterly, nodding. “i thought it would make things better. but it only made it worse. because after, i felt worse about myself. like i was just another girl to him. and now, i feel like all i am to him is… a body, not someone he cares about. and it hurts. god, it hurts so much, zaia. i thought i could be strong, but every time he pulls away, it’s like he rips the rug out from under me.” she wiped away another tear, but it kept coming. “i hate that i still want him. i hate it so much. i feel like i’m not good enough for him, and i don’t know how to fix it.”

zaia wrapped her arms around her tightly again, holding y/n in a protective embrace. “you don’t have to fix it, baby girl. you are more than enough. he needs to figure out how to treat you the way you deserve.” she pulled back slightly, cupping y/n’s face. “this isn’t on you. you’ve been carrying this weight for months, and i’m so sorry you’ve had to go through it alone. but you’re not alone anymore, okay? i’m here, always.”

y/n nodded, feeling the comfort in her best friend’s words but still feeling the ache of everything she had gone through. “i just feel so foolish. i was so sure we were fine. and then he just… made me feel like nothing. and i can’t even say it to him. i don’t even know how to talk to him anymore.”

zaia didn’t hesitate. “you can talk to me, always. i’ve got you. i’ll be here for you every step of the way.” she paused, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “you deserve someone who sees you, truly sees you. he doesn’t deserve you if he can’t even treat you like you matter. don’t let him make you question your worth, y/n.”

y/n bit her lip, trying to hold it together as the last of her tears fell. “i just… i don’t know how to walk away, though. even after everything, i still want him.” her voice broke as she whispered the truth she’d been keeping buried. “and i hate myself for it.”

“you don’t have to hate yourself for wanting him,” zaia said, her voice firm but soft. “but you do have to remember who you are. you are amazing, y/n. and no man should make you feel like you’re anything less than that. take your time. you don’t need to figure it all out tonight, but promise me you’ll start thinking about what you need, okay?”

y/n nodded, feeling a small sense of relief in the embrace of her best friend. “thank you,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

zaia kissed the top of her head, brushing away her own tears as she whispered, “yes, you do. you have to choose yourself now. you deserve to be loved the way you love, not in fragments and not as an afterthought.”

zaia was silent for a moment before she said, “maybe it’s time to stop.”

y/n let out a breath, staring at the ceiling. “maybe.”

but deep down, she knew. she had to.

because this? this wasn’t love. this was self-destruction, wrapped up in something that felt like love but had never been anything more than a painful illusion.

and she couldn’t do it anymore.

trent woke up early, the tension of the night before still sitting heavy on his chest. he hadn’t expected her to leave, especially after everything had been building up, but when he returned from his morning run and paddle session with cash and a few of the groomsmen, it was clear y/n wasn’t coming back to the room. her things were gone. her absence hit him harder than he anticipated. each quiet moment that passed made him more aware of her absence, and the thought of what had happened between them made his stomach twist.

he couldn’t stop thinking about the fight. the harsh words, the anger, and the painful silence that followed. but what really gnawed at him was the feeling of being so close, yet so far away from her. they’d never really talked about what they were, what they could be. but in that moment, he knew he had lost something precious.

trent had always been good at keeping things under control. in football, on the field, he was disciplined, focused, precise. off the field, it was no different—he didn’t get caught up in emotions, never let anything slip past the walls he’d built around himself. but with y/n? everything was different.

it had been months of tension, of unspoken words and stolen moments. and still, he had never said it. never admitted it aloud. he couldn’t—he wasn’t sure how. the weight of those three words felt like too much, like saying them would shatter everything they had built in their quiet moments. but every time he was near her, it was all he could think about.

the way her laughter filled the space between them, as if it were meant to chase away every shadow. the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her work, her passion for everything she did, whether it was a new song, a project she was excited about, or even a random conversation about the future. y/n wasn’t just driven; she was relentless, her ambition an ever-present force that pulled him in, made him want to do better, be better.

he loved the way her eyes narrowed, the little crease that formed between her eyebrows when she wasn’t pleased with something. it didn’t matter what it was—whether it was a lyric that didn’t feel right or a recording that wasn’t up to her standard. she was determined, stubborn in the best way, refusing to let anything be less than perfect.

he loved the way she cared for the people around her, her quiet, unspoken loyalty. she was always there for her friends, for those who needed her, her strength never faltering. the way she held herself, graceful yet fierce, made everything feel effortless, and that strength, that inner fire, was what drew him to her.

trent had never been one to back down from his feelings before, but with y/n, everything was different. every time he thought about telling her how he felt, doubt clouded his mind. he wasn’t the type of guy to spill his emotions, wasn’t the type to risk making things complicated. but then again, everything about y/n had made him reconsider everything he’d ever known about himself.

he’d caught himself staring at her, the way she moved, how she took up space without even trying. how when she smiled, it was like the entire room lit up, and everything around her became brighter. but it was in the quiet moments, when they weren’t talking, that he saw it the most. the way she leaned into him after a long day, the warmth of her hand brushing against his as they sat together, the subtle way she sought comfort in his presence without needing to say a word.

but now, at the wedding, everything he’d tried to suppress—the love he’d refused to acknowledge—was breaking through.

it had started with her absence. when she left, taking her things without a word, it was like a punch to the gut. the emptiness of the room he’d shared with her felt like a thousand unanswered questions hanging in the air.

and as he watched her walk down the aisle—graceful, breathtaking, completely unaware of how she had just undone him—he felt everything. the pang in his chest, the tightening of his stomach, the overwhelming need to be near her. the emerald dress that hugged her body like it was made just for her, the soft waves of her hair catching the light, the way she looked like she belonged in that moment, in this world, right in front of him—it all hit him like a wave.

he’d spent too many months ignoring the truth, burying it deep, telling himself it was just a fleeting attraction, just the rush of excitement he got from being around her. but in that moment, seeing her, everything became clear.

he loved her.

but the words… they were impossible to say.

he couldn’t do it. not here. not in front of everyone.

but as she walked closer, his heart pounded louder in his chest, and he could feel the weight of the truth pressing against his ribs, suffocating him. he opened his mouth, the words teetering on the edge of his lips, and he couldn’t stop them.

“i love you.”

the confession barely left his lips, a soft whisper, but it shattered the space between them. her eyes flickered toward him, and for a moment, everything stopped. the guests, the ceremony, the world outside—they all faded into the background as he waited for her to process it.

and for just a split second, it was as if time had stood still. y/n’s gaze met his, confusion and surprise dancing in her eyes, but before she could react, she was at the altar, her back now turned to him.

trent’s chest tightened as the reality of what he’d just done settled in. he had said it—he had said the words he’d been holding onto for so long—and now, nothing would ever be the same. the air between them had shifted, and he knew that even if things couldn’t go back to what they were, he couldn’t regret finally saying the truth.

he loved her. and now she knew.

and he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that their relationship would never be the same.

the reception was in full swing, vibrant and alive, the sounds of chatter, laughter, and music weaving together in an almost hypnotic rhythm. guests filled the grand hall, surrounded by sparkling lights and the delicate scent of flowers that seemed to linger in the air, but all trent could do was watch her.

y/n had avoided him all evening, her presence in the room more intoxicating than ever, but every time their eyes threatened to meet, she’d quickly look away. there was something different about her now, something almost… untouchable. he could feel the distance between them grow with each passing moment, the weight of the confession hanging in the air like a cloud he couldn’t shake.

as the night wore on, he watched helplessly as rome, ever the charming groomsman, moved closer to y/n. trent couldn’t even focus on the conversation happening around him, his gaze locked onto them. it wasn’t jealousy that gripped his chest, not entirely. it was a deep ache, a longing, and the bitter taste of regret that had settled on his tongue since he had confessed his feelings.

rome, with his smooth words and easy smile, took y/n by the hand, leading her to the center of the room for the dance. she looked stunning—effortless in her grace, her emerald dress sparkling under the lights, her hair falling around her shoulders like soft waves. she danced with rome, laughing as they moved in perfect harmony, her eyes alight with joy. she seemed so at ease, so free, and trent couldn’t tear his eyes away.

his chest tightened as he watched them twirl, their bodies moving together in sync, rome lifting y/n with ease, spinning her around with a smile that made her laugh, a sound so pure it cut right through him.

he wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that. to hold her, to twirl her around, to make her feel like she belonged with him.

but she was lost in rome’s arms, his hands on her waist, and when he lifted her bridal-style, y/n’s laughter filled the air again, the sound that once brought him so much comfort now only deepening the ache in his chest. her smile was so bright, so carefree, it made his gut twist, the pang of longing gnawing at him.

he hadn’t imagined this. he hadn’t imagined seeing her like this, so happy, so free, with someone else. but in that moment, as rome’s arms wrapped around her, it was impossible to deny. she was so beautiful, so perfect, but she wasn’t his.

trent stood there, frozen, watching them as they shared this intimate moment, and for the first time all evening, he realized just how much he had let slip through his fingers.

the reception buzzed with joy, the kind of happiness that felt almost tangible, spreading like wildfire through the crowd. the vibrant hues of gold and green shimmered under the soft glow of the chandeliers, the music a steady pulse of celebration. but for y/n, it was a blur.

she moved through the festivities mechanically, her smile painted on, her laugh hollow. the ache in her chest had only grown since trent’s declaration during the ceremony, a single moment that unraveled everything she thought she’d understood about their arrangement.

he said he loved me.

the words looped in her head, taunting her, twisting the knife of hurt deeper with every replay. she had to keep moving, keep doing her maid of honor duties, because if she stopped—if she let herself think for even a second—she’d fall apart.

as the night carried on, the time came for her to change into her traditional outfit. she slipped away from the crowd, her steps quick as she entered the quiet room she’d been using earlier. the space was a sanctuary, an escape from the overwhelming noise and the weight of her emotions.

she unzipped the garment bag with trembling hands, the rich gold and green fabric catching the light. slipping into the wrap skirt, she struggled to secure it properly, her fingers fumbling from the tension in her chest. she couldn’t seem to focus, her mind a storm of anger and betrayal.

“need help?”

his voice hit her like a thunderclap, sharp and unexpected. she stiffened, her back to the door as she recognized trent’s familiar tone.

“no,” she said curtly, her voice clipped.

he ignored her, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him. “you’ve been avoiding me all night,” he said, his voice low but steady.

“i haven’t,” she snapped, her hands busying themselves with the zipper of her blouse, though it wouldn’t budge.

“y/n, stop lying,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “you won’t even look at me.”

her jaw clenched, and she kept her eyes fixed ahead, pretending to focus on the mirror. “i’ve been busy. it’s a wedding, trent. there’s a lot to do.”

“bullshit,” he said sharply, his patience clearly wearing thin. he moved behind her, his hands brushing against her back as he took the zipper and pulled it up. “there. now you can stop pretending.”

“what do you want, trent?” she asked, her voice hard as she stepped away from him, putting distance between them.

“i want to talk,” he said simply, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “about what happened.”

“there’s nothing to talk about,” she said quickly, picking up her jewelry and focusing on fastening her bracelet.

“don’t do that,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “don’t shut me out like this.”

“i’m not shutting you out. that would imply i ever let you in,” she shot back, her eyes finally meeting his. “i’m protecting myself.”

trent’s brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. “protecting yourself? from what?”

“from you!” she said, her voice breaking as anger and hurt poured out of her. “from the man who spent weeks treating me like i was nothing more than a convenient arrangement, only to turn around and say he loves me during my best friend’s wedding. do you have any idea what that did to me?”

his face fell, his expression stricken. “y/n, i never meant to hurt you—”

“but you did!” she interrupted, her voice shaking with emotion. “you made me feel like i was just… just some fling to you. like none of this—none of us—meant anything.”

“that’s not true,” he said firmly, stepping closer again. “it meant everything to me. you mean everything to me.”

she laughed bitterly, shaking her head as tears welled in her eyes. “don’t say that. don’t you dare say that now, when it’s too late.”

“it’s not too late,” he insisted, his voice soft but resolute. “i know i messed up. i should’ve told you how i felt sooner, but i was scared, y/n. scared that if i told you, you’d walk away.”

“so you let me believe i was just… temporary?” she said, her voice rising again. “you let me give you parts of myself i’ve never given to anyone, and you couldn’t even be honest with me?”

trent ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “i didn’t know how to say it. i didn’t want to mess this up.”

“well, congratulations,” she said bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. “you managed to do that anyway.”

his jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath, his gaze steady on hers. “i’m not giving up on this. on us.”

“there is no ‘us,’” she said coldly, her tears spilling over now. “you made sure of that.”

he stepped closer, his hands reaching for hers, but she pulled away. “y/n, please,” he said, his voice breaking. “just give me a chance to make this right.”

“i don’t know if you can,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “you broke something in me, trent. and i don’t know if it can be fixed.”

the silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words hanging heavy between them. for the first time, trent looked uncertain, his confidence faltering as he realized the depth of her pain.

but even then, he wasn’t ready to give up. “i’ll prove it to you,” he said softly. “if you let me, i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

y/n stared at him, her heart aching, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. she didn’t know if she could trust him again, didn’t know if she could risk her heart once more.

but as she looked into his eyes, she saw something she hadn’t before—genuine regret, vulnerability, and a love so raw it scared her.

and for a moment, just a moment, she let herself hope.

trent’s words hung heavy in the air, his desperation evident in the way his voice trembled, in the way his eyes searched hers for any flicker of hope. but y/n could barely hear him over the pounding in her chest, over the ache clawing its way through her.

he wanted to prove himself? now? after weeks of her pouring herself into something she thought was mutual, only to find out she’d been fooling herself the entire time?

she shook her head, her tears blurring the room around her. “no, trent.”

his brow furrowed, his confusion plain. “no? what do you mean, no?”

“i mean no,” she said firmly, her voice sharper now, anger cutting through her sadness. “the contract is up. you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

trent froze, his hands falling to his sides. “pretend?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “y/n, i wasn’t pretending—”

“oh, really?” she snapped, taking a step back from him. “because that’s all this has ever felt like to me. a performance. something you agreed to because it was convenient, because it helped both of us. but it was never real. not to you.”

“that’s not true,” he said quickly, his voice rising. “it’s never been pretend for me, y/n. never.”

“stop lying!” she yelled, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “stop standing there and telling me it was real when you made me feel like nothing more than an obligation. you want to talk about pretending? the only one pretending here is me!”

trent flinched as if her words had physically struck him, his face contorting with hurt. “y/n, that’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“not fair?” she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her. “you want to talk about fair? fair is you being honest with me from the start. fair is you not stringing me along, letting me believe that maybe—just maybe—this was something more than an arrangement.”

“it was more,” he insisted, his voice almost pleading. “it is more.”

she shook her head, her tears spilling freely now. “you don’t get to decide that. you don’t get to say you love me after making me feel like I was disposable.”

“you’re not disposable,” he said firmly, taking a step closer. “you never were.”

then, her words echoed in his mind again: “you made me feel disposable.” and as the phrase rang in his head, it hit him like a wave. “this is casual, right?” his own words. words that had haunted her ever since monaco. it wasn’t just that he had hurt her—it was how he had made her feel. like she was nothing more than a temporary fix, a momentary distraction. disposable.

the realization sent a shockwave through him, the guilt flooding his chest as he replayed that night over and over in his mind. this is casual, right? he had said it so easily, without even considering the weight it would carry for her.

he had always thought she could handle it. thought she was strong enough to keep it together, to play along with the arrangement. but the way her eyes had looked at him after that night—the hurt in them, the way she had withdrawn from him after, had never truly registered until now. he had ignored it all because he was too wrapped up in his own insecurities, in his fear of commitment. and now, he was facing the consequences.

“y/n…” his voice was barely audible, his throat tight with emotion.

she didn’t turn around. she just stood there, her back to him, shoulders hunched in defeat.

why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt?

her words sliced through him. why couldn’t you just tell me?

he had been so afraid to lose her, so afraid of letting her in, that he had never given her the chance to truly see him. to see the man he was when he wasn’t running from his own feelings. and now, he was paying the price.

he took a hesitant step forward, his voice cracking as he spoke again. “y/n, i’m sorry. i didn’t realize how much i hurt you. i didn’t understand… how much that night meant to you, how much i made you feel like… like i didn’t care. i never meant to make you feel disposable. i thought i was protecting the both of us, but all i did was hurt you.”

y/n finally turned to face him, her tear-streaked face a painful reminder of everything that had gone wrong. “you don’t get it, do you?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “that night… that was everything to me. and when you said it was just sex—when you made it clear it meant nothing—it broke me. i gave myself to you, trent. i trusted you. and you made me feel like i wasn’t worth anything more than that.”

trent swallowed hard, his throat tight. “just sex.” how could he have been so blind? how could he have let her believe that?

“i’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice raw with regret. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you’re not disposable, y/n. you’re… you’re the furthest thing from it.”

she shook her head, stepping back as if his words were too much to bear. “you can’t take it back now, trent. you can’t just decide to care when it’s convenient for you. it doesn’t work like that. i can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out. i deserve more than that.”

he felt the finality in her words, the weight of the decision hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. and for the first time, he realized just how badly he had messed up.

“i know i can’t fix this,” he said quietly, the pain in his chest making it hard to breathe. “but i need you to know… i’m sorry. i didn’t know how bad it hurt you. i never meant to make you feel so small, y/n. and i’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove that to you, if you’ll let me.”

she stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for sincerity. but as the silence stretched on, it became clear that the damage had already been done.

“then why?” she demanded, her voice rising again. “why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt? why did you wait until now, in the middle of all this, to say something?”

“because I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “i was scared that if i told you, you’d push me away. that you’d tell me you didn’t feel the same, and i’d lose you completely.”

she stared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to process his words. but the anger and hurt were too overwhelming, drowning out any possibility of understanding.

“well, congratulations,” she said bitterly. “you’ve lost me anyway.”

trent’s face fell, his expression crumbling as her words hit him. “y/n, please,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“no,” she said firmly, her voice steadier now. “this is over, trent. the contract, the arrangement, whatever this was—it’s done.”

“it doesn’t have to be,” he said desperately, his hands reaching for hers again. but she stepped back, putting more distance between them.

“it does,” she said, her tone final. “because i can’t keep pretending that this is enough for me. that you’re enough for me when all you’ve done is hurt me.”

and with that, she walked away, leaving him standing in the wreckage of his own making, knowing he might never be able to fix what he had broken.

trent opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. he stood there, frozen, as y/n turned away from him, her shoulders trembling with the weight of everything she’d been holding in.

and for the first time in his life, trent alexander-arnold could finally see all the ways he had broken her.

© PDRIESTA 2025

[silvers-starrway]

Bunch of Sonilver with some ideas from the STHBB server!! Also a shaded version under the cut that I ended up not liking as much lmao.

[spotaus]

Posting this pre-emptively since I might doodle in the meantime- Happy new years eve y'all!

And my shenanigans? The ones I mentioned? Got my hair dyed! N is going to need a new upgrade in her aesthetic in the coming year and I'm going to enjoy my new vibes <3

[californiaquail]

anyone else feeling fundamentally incapable of adjusting to society. also just discovered there's a 30 tag limit which i can't believe i've never hit before

[istherewifiinhell]

IS FLYING GENDERED?

On the masculine default, typifying gender in genre, and women as the other in the transformers cartoons.

question for the ages

once again i said back in the halcyon days of watching g1 (aka 5 months ago) i was like. Nooooo, decepticon is NOT a gender that's Silly. It's funny, but as a Read Of The Text, I thought it largely unneeded. (The concept came about, as a joke, involving dismissing the bad guys using the same language you would abt women (sexistly) that they're emotional [heh, flighty], vain, and shrill) after all. If in the 80s era there are 5 whole named/speaking woman tfs, its only ever gonna get better from here right? (<- booboo the fool)

anyway

Let's consider the axiom that the assumed default gender is male, that maleness is often seen as LACK of gender, and femaleness and gender variance are the PRESENCE of gender. In certain reasoning and worldviews, of course (See Androcentrism). Then add that, for transformers, the assumed default thing a transformer turns into, is car. (Autocentrism, if you will)

(The most general term for what a tf turns into is "Alt mode" as some of them are not vehicles at all. The other mode is "Robot Mode", whether its humanoid or not)

So I will be laying out why I believe the cartoon iterations support: non standard alt modes = non standard genders. This is in spite of the fact that FIRST lady tfs were all cars. Sleek cyber cars, but still. For whatever reason, (possibly, the reason for everything in tf, toys) they might as well not exist for how woman tf characters presence in the cartoons progressed over time.

And, to be clear, this is a reading of how these works of fiction are created, not a new unified bioessentialism but for robots aliens I'm proposing for like. In universe lore reasons. I hate that idea.

That said, alt modes in order of most to least gender: Spider, motorcycle, flying (in general, with rotors, jets), tank, and then FINALLY, car. (water and space crafts are already too marginal to rank, but they too can be assumed in relation to default maleness, AND that in making one a woman, would still qualify as othering her).

The NUMBER one reason for this is the bizarre need to have an ESTABLISHED woman tf character before making new ones. AS YOU MIGHT IMAGINE. With a g1 gender ratio something like.... (counting even the most marginal cases for the ladies) 9:120? (That's a rough count from a quick scanning of the tf wiki g1 char list) Shits dire out here.

The second is, ofc, character design based. cis people [stand in phrase for the hegemonic world view] are not okay, and their opinions about how tf gender must need be depicted visually is. uh? Im not a fan. Size and shape dimorphism in general is a given, and specifically having women tfs as far more humanoid and curvy in specific. Also general cartoon lady face syndrome but, whatever. I think there's exactly one character here who doesn't have "lips" or "lipstick" as a distinguishing factor. I'm so tired.

Third is generally, the idea of The Girl Of the Team. When there's The Girl, she often isn't JUST a normal character, who happens to be a girl. See, of course, the Smurtfette Principle. But in my view there's also a trend to give The Girl "special traits" on top of "Girl", maybe even to directly combat the idea that the Girl Character has no other traits? To stop this from being a General Primer on Woman in Media, my explanatory focus is things specific to the tf franchise.

(A phrase I use for thinking about normative modes [in general, not just the Alt ones] in within the tf universe is "unique transformerdom" or, even more clunkily, "A transformer of unique transformerdom". The excessive verbosity is amusing to me personally. All I mean by it is to have an umbrella term for any of the ways tfs can be made unique from their peers in the non allegorical realities of the fiction).

I could, and do, and greatly want to, speak about this AT LENGTH. But it keeps spiraling away from me. So I'll say for now were looking at ways a character is being depicted different from her peers, not because she is the only woman (which she likely is), but cause she's a different kind of transformer, AND if she's othered for it.

(IN SOME forms of the lore. Being a transformer woman, IS A UNIQUE KIND of transformer unto itself. Let's just say I hate it and move on)

Fourth, is the gender of villainy. There is much to be said about gender presentation of villains, the ways they are allowed to be aberrant. We will get to it. There is also all the tropes specific TO evil women, and the modes of villainy open TO female characters. But a general thing I think impacting the gender ratios of the factions is the how "Good" and "Evil" female characters are written. I'll generalize and call this the "Damsel vs Temptress" dichotomy. (See concepts like the Madonna-whore complex). Transformers, is by and large, an action franchise. Unless special reasons are made, characters who can impact the action– have more screen time, and likely more memorable, and iconic presences. A villainous woman can be unchaste, violent, aggressive. While a heroic woman, even if not a literal damsel are more likely to be in a support role. The secretaries of the action genre: medics and techs.

(Another factor is that tfs are giant robots, and the good guys are often friends with tiny squishy little humans. These make very good damsel fodder, and can be taking up the spots on the roster that might, in a different franchise, go to women. Additionally, while woman characters in transformers overall is an interesting topic. When I say tf women, I'm referring to ones that are in fictionally, transformers.)

SO, now understanding our points of attack/obstacles for getting woman into transformers. (Getting established, gendering the designed, uniqueness of existence, and general villainy). Lets go over those alt modes, and the characters that have em, in more detail.

Spiders

The "Beast Era" (1996) intro-ed the spider ofc. And what don't we have with this one. She's a villain, but shes also misunderstood, the era and design style let to these more organic shapes. And they used them to make sure she was very sexy. She's genre aware, she's quippy, she's an absolute icon. So naturally. She gets ported to other later shows. Which means we just have sexy spider ladies running around when everyone else is a fucking truck and shit.

Her own origin is, well think of her as a "Bride of Frankenstein" to the resident evil scientist, also a spider. She was designed for, and manipulated by him in multiple ways. Her protoform (A blank robot base), was supposed to be one of the good guys (a Maximal), but was reprogrammed into a bad guy (Predacon). Even then, she eventually joins them, for her own reasons. She's not even the first predacon to do so, the difference? Well the characters are a lot more NORMAL about his autonomy. Both of these characters stress that being a predacon is an identity they still see as important. But only the woman is told that really, she is was was always MEANT to be a maximal. And while that's true in a sense. There's also a plot were she's forced (by plot contrivance, not the other maximals) to get corrective robot surgery for it. And when they think she died from, everyone's more sad for her boyfriend than for her. Ouch.

The second spider, in the 2007 show, is now one in a world where she is the only "techno-organic" transformer, hence, she is spider, everyone else is a vehicle. Similar to the first, her narrative is very gendered, but less in the way were, like, I do literally think the first was was experiencing in universe sexism from other characters. Here, they really focus on the "techno vs organic" narrative, and the tragic circumstances on how that happened. In this case its just real world sexist writing.

THIRD SPIDER, (2010), instead of misunderstood and tragic evil, this ones just super mega likes to cause pain evil. She also occupies a strange place between the typic vehicular tfs, and the insecticons. This is because she has a helicopter alt mode, and her robot mode is just, a lady with spider characteristics. And, more than just a passing bug like similarity, she has the power to control the insecticons (you know, cause evil woman mind control). However, she doesn't fit in with them either, as the insecticons are at the most insect like they've ever been, in look, living in hives and that most don't even speak.

They may vary in exact character, relationship to the story's moral conflict, and design. But they stay comfortably established, dimorphised, flirty and flirting with villainy. And bonus points, always, for black widow spider trope.

SO. SPIDERS. Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: ✅️ (Extremely!) Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ Villainy: ✅️

Motorcycles

Tooooo my knowledge the first bike lady was in 2004, and fairly minor, in the actual plot, but rest assured, they did go the previously established woman route, by being pink, though, which one shes named after varies by language. But neither were previously motorcycles. (And yes, there is also this problem of mixing together or swapping out one woman tf for another. As if we have the ladies to spare). Even though motorcycle men also exist, this one just stuck for a bit. Maybe something to do with Those Movies. I think the Gendered Existence of a motorcycle is pretty evident though, general sex appeal, being smaller, the mode of riding a motorcycle is different, more physical and intimate. Mainly this ranks so high for the level of grossness they can pack in. Just how objectifying it can be, particularly with two instances where the human rider is an annoying teen boy. Naturally, I've also never seen a male and female motorcycle in the same room, but the approach to design tends to be different. And yeah most of em are Arcee, who's first alt mode was cyber car, but it's not just her.

Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: ✅️ Unique: ✅️ Othered: Depends on iteration, I do NOT like the way one gets called "tough, for a two wheeler". Villainy: ❌(they wouldn't need to be motorcycles if they weren't making them the Special Girl Autobot, after all)

Flying

General: It just tends to stick out when your one girl is only flyer in the group, even she's otherwise tactfully done. Only flyer of the Maximals, a falcon, only flyer of the dinobots, a Pteranodon.

Rotors

I can barely even figure this one. Maybe it's just a general, aesthetics and use case of the actually vehicles, the associations? None of these ladies (and special case) are very connected otherwise. As previously mentioned, the spider helicopter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A big one for this is the preschool demo shows, which are rescue team focused. In the first one the only woman on the human response worker team pairs with the helicopter, they mention she does medical at times. The helicopter is male, like the other tfs. But also he's afraid of flying, and while not the first case of a flyer with a fear of heights, their personalities are, pretty different. As he's both fearful AND effeminate, fine as character traits go but, with the tone of humour used, marks him as Other.

In the second, Whirl (pointing to icon) becomes a girl for the first time, now with standard humanized face. I assume as move to keep with the previous show of having a girl one, as there's no human team mates. She's also the only one who really likes rescue school. Aaaand that's all know of her. What more do you want from me.

Helicopters: Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ (milder than some)

But why'd I call this section rotors instead of helicopters? That would be because one of the latest Sole Female TF we just put in everything™ is a VTOL jet with rotors. She'll tend to be the only jet of her type, which is also smaller than the type of jet used for the villains.

And, of course, aside from alt mode, the thing that makes her stand out most in the cartoons? That she's very clearly a comics character. (I find the emphasize that she's "fan created" over done, as it only controlled minor aspects, and irrelevant cause tfs get completely overhauled in new versions all the time). From her design, which is a bit busier than most characters she stars with. And also uses Japanese aesthetic signifiers in ways that I think are a bit misappropriated and untactful. (VERY USamerican comics). Also, when she stars next to a guy, also from comics employing Japanese aesthetic, you can tell its not deployed in the same manner. (E.I she has hair and makeup, he has armor). Either way, her depictions have her either as badass sword lady on mission from god who's constantly getting hit on by an annoying guy. Or have her be from a different planet and has special telepathy.

Do we see how both her gender AND the cultural signifiers are having affects here? That the main woman tf in a series can be a literal alien even among our alien robots, with cultural signifiers they don't have?

Ratings Established: ✅️ (made the comics to cartoon jump) Gendered designs: ✅️ Unique: ✅️ Othered: ✅️ (SO SO EXTREMELY, using methods in fiction and real life)

Jets

I think my association of jets with tf gender is stronger, than some of the above examples, even if there's less reason to it. And why is that? Well, lets get socratic. Here's another question.

Is This All Starscream's Fault?

No. He's not real, he can't do things. But. His legacy as THE main stay transformers character that gets to subvert gender? Yeah. (Sure, the G1 autobots have their own effete, but he's not in every single cartoon they ever made now is he? Plus now that I think about it, he is a FLYING car...)

From the get, he's not a Man's man. He's shrill, he's manipulative and duplicitous, petty and emotional, cowardly and wheedling. He is, of course, the Perfect character. Now naturally, the 80s cartoon was not concerned with your paltry logics. Starscream and his ilk are the jets, but every decepticon can fly. The gun, the cassette player, the camera, the cassettes.

And each to a last, more masculine than he is. Vocally or behaviorally, physically. Every one of them fit the gender expectations more than he does. Even being a small time grunt, is a masculine trait, after all, more so than unchecked ambition. So its not femininity from flying, from jets. But direct relationship, reference, and descendancy from Starscream that makes it. I've yet to see female versions of Jet fire and or the aerialbots, for example.

So what to do when an effeminate male villain was less maltese falcon and more that man has effeminate hips? Well. We had to start getting his ass for being effeminate, explicitly. They made the female clone of him, which yeah, is an offensive joke stemming from the various The Gender Anxieties. (Transmisogyny, homophobia and sexism. General relation toxic masculinity. A heady mix of all and more).

But I mean. It's free girl tf... Once given a name in extra canon materials, she start's showing up in other things. Once you're in books, video games, comics, and most importantly, toys, you're real. And then eventually, her first non clone appearance in a cartoon, and how her presence shaped it.

That being, Cyberverse. Which is a cgi show, you need to know this for reasons of production. Making new models is expensive. This has always been the reason you just make recolours of Starscream and name them different things. Chicken or egg on this one, I don't know, But because CV has Slipstream, and the only difference between her and the generic "male" decepticon jet, is a more feminine face; Suddenly, any random decepticon goon can be a woman.

An absolutely revolutionary take for striving to populate a fictional world with gender parity. By at large it also means they're way more lady villains, and specifically flying model of villain. The show has other woman, but none who get the same androgynous body mold treatment.

Established: ✅️ Gendered designs: Mildly to NO. Unique: By design, no. Othered: Yes for the clone, and Screamer himself, I suppose. No, otherwise. Villainy: ✅️(That's, the whole idea)

Tanks

It needs to be said. Sometimes, when doing things that transgress a norm, anteing up is less subversive. This is another reason why gender variance, female agency and overt sexuality are more common traits of villains. When already defying strictures of society. What's one more.

That's Right. TANKS ARE THE BUTCH WOMAN OF TRANSFORMERS.

Alright. Let me back up. Strika is the stone cold knock out undefeated champ of lady tf designs that, actually has a reoccurring cartoon presence. She is, admittedly, only a reoccurring to minor character.

Her introduction is in another show with techno-organics, this one involved in the struggle between well, the techno and the organic. Strika as we see her, and as the design that will go on to be iterated, is not in her normal transformer body. She has been transferred into a 'vehicon' body. Without a preexisting essence contained in one, vehicons are not considered alive, in the way a transformer is. Visually, they lack the more human body plan, a standard face, feet and hand like appendages.

To further contrast Strika against the two techno-organic woman. Both of them are tall, and slender. Their softer organic shapes designed towards elegance or beauty, whatever your subjective opinion of that result might be. They both have romance subplots too. By the way. Or honestly one subplot and one main plot. Strika. In contrast. Is built like a brick shit house. Her face is. Minimal. And her goal: protecting her planet... by terminating the heroes.

Now, existing as a character that can be referenced for other media, and given the detail that she was a "Famous general", it's off to the races. She makes a wonderful big tank menace that can fill out a background shot, too.

Without her I hardly think we could have Clobber, also from CV. Who is. The true goat. The finest thing, the achievements of all we could ever hope for. A big fuck off woman, gender swapped from a previous male design with minimal faff, with now even more personality and show presence. Friends, wants, desires. Emotions. Thank God for Clobber, Thank Clobber for Clobber. Thank Randolph Heard and Mae Catt for Clobber.

Established: Depends if you want to count that Strika had so much swag they kept drawing/modeling her Gendered designs: FUCK NO Unique: ✅️ Othered: only originally Villainy: ✅️

Cars

So now you have the final piece of the puzzle. In transformers, Autobots are Cars. Yes, there are plenty of autobots that are NOT cars, and there are cars that are not Autobots. But they're exceptions, they're aberrances. They're unique. And Autobots are the norm. They oppose the Decepticons. Decepticons are Villains. And Decepticons can fly. Modal simplified binaries and false dichotomy abound!

And the thing about those original Autobot woman, the one's who largely did not influence all of this? They were cars, it's true, but not like how the men where cars. They've not been designed from transforming car toys, with a shellac of humanoid gender over top. Their designed in the way of human gender. With the car on top.

When the preexisting clause leads to the original designs to be revisited, which, has largely only happened in more recent years. They aren't car woman robots. The cars are literally not part of their bodies, they are additional. Instead of a unifying identity of a robot who is a car, its Arcee and her backpack. Parts of cars get grafted onto their petite lady bodies, and placed anywhere out of the way.

In order to make a transformer a woman, they have to give her a gender, not understanding that that's always been the case. And to give her a woman's gender, she's got to LOOK like a woman, not a transformer. And to look like a woman, she's got to act like a woman. She must be heroic but reactive instead of active, or else, villainous, conniving and or self centered. To be a woman, we must have some other previous woman to explain her presence, or else explain it anew with her unique, strange, or exotic origin. How could she ever be a woman if she simply, existed, looked average, talked average. How could she be a woman if her body is hunks of ungendered car. How can she be a woman if she's everything we expect a transformer to be.

A woman is transgressive, a woman is not normal. Autobots are normal. Autobots are heros. Autobots are men. And Autobots do not fly.

[shirogane-oushirou]

no promises anymoooooreeeee i'll appear online when i appear online 😭 every time i say "ooh i think life is almost done being overwhelming!" it. becomes even more overwhelming in the dumbest ways. all i can manage rn when i'm not stressing myself into a shut-down state is staring at the wall while listening to youtube essays + mindlessly crocheting.

i might queue up ppls art and fics w/o commentary in the tags... i want other ppl to see what all of my cool friends have made, but i genuinely can't think right now with this monstrous brain fog. i'm really sorry, just. yeah. maybe i'll think of some way to make it up later!!! once the dust has settled!!!! but until then i wuv u and miss u. smiles.

[venting in tags including familial manipulation and ableism. i. didn't mean to write all of that, thiss was originally going to be a main blog post but. aaaaaAAAAAA!!!!!

also no need for replies or anything, i'd turn them off for just the one post if i could kjsndkn, i just needed to get things out and go eep jsjndsfdn ok bye bye bye bye!!!!]

[seventh-district]

i’m not like other girls, my “Rest” stats are a heart rate of 110bpm and a HRV of 14 fucking milliseconds. :)

[otselotus]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [we are here!!!] OMG it took only 11 months omg soooo productive If you are not familiar - this is desertduo Fish Au comics I did I a while back :"D This chapter is more about Scar and his backstory, and right now he is about to meet the rest of the crew (omg whoo are theyyy) A huge thank you @mayvora for helping with the text! Their part was so great that I had to actually use my brain trying to write something even remotely on the same level because their writing is just insane please check out their works!!

--

Okay but for real thank you for reading all that, thank you for still remembering my silly little comics about two 1/4-fish men. I really appreciate every message, reblog, I read everything and It is still overwhelming how positive people are about this stuff. So thank you so much really. Usually I am too tired to react or respond for the most part (and after that it becomes weird), but i still read and cherish every single comment, they mean the world to me qq thank you so much for sticking around, see you in 2025 <3

[soup-for-ghosts]

did you guys know I love furina. did you know.

[foxmulderautism]

instagram recommending me a reel for a peach frosé recipe what the fuck literally most felixcore cocktail of all time. literally just frozen peaches and rosé blended together. me when i said i'd be productive but now i'm falling down a peach flavoured cocktail rabbit hole

[aayakashii]

soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a 😙🤌 chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!!

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

Part 2 of this fic here <3

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

[justsayyes1]

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[jinx-isha-forever]

Kiss it Better

(Jinx x fem!reader)

Summary: you are making Jinx a knife in her workshop, but cut yourself in the process. Jinx fixes you up

Warnings: blood. hand injury.

A/N: This is an idea I’ve had for a while. Enjoy!

“Dammit.” The knife you were holding slipped. Cutting your hand in the process. Blood starts to drip on to the table.

“Shit no.” You quietly curse yourself.

You grab a random rag, trying to clean the mess.

You were no stranger to building stuff. You were actually pretty good at it.

However, this was your first time working in Jinx’s workshop.

So, you weren’t too familiar with all the different tools.

You also, were working too quickly, wanting to finish the knife, before Jinx got back.

Which led to the knife slipping.

You huff. Frustrated at yourself. You start to look for the first aid kit. Jinx moves it around daily. So, it could be anywhere.

You kneel down, looking through some boxes when you hear a noise……

-Jinx is coming-

You scramble to your feet. Putting your injured hand behind your back.

“Hey”a toots! Why are you in my workshop hu?”

Jinx walks in. Mischief in her eyes, looking you over.

“Did you just miss me that much?”

She says teasingly, getting closer to you.

You take a step back. Trying to stand in front of the unfinished knife laying on the table.

“Umm….hiii.” You say awkwardly, holding your injured hand tightly behind your back.

“You know me. I ahhh….just needed to ummm….” You continue to take steps back, until you hit the edge of the work table.

“Hey! Whatcha hidden behind your back?” She raises an eyebrow, a smirk on her face.

“Did you get me somethin? Oooor what?”

She presses. Getting even closer. Now only a few feet away.

“Come on….let me see. The suspense is killing me.”

She says dramatically, putting her lip out in a pouting manner.

“No it’s not what you think. I was-“

Jinx quickly grabs your shoulder, spinning you around, playfully giggling.

But stops when she sees the blood.

“Wh….what happen?”

You turn back around to look at her, holding your injured hand.

“Jinx I-“

“Who did this to you?”

Her playful demeanor is gone. Her voice is serous.

“Give me a name.” She demands.

“No it’s not like that…. No one hurt me.”

She looks at you confused.

“Then what…. I…. I don’t understand—“

“Accident…. It was an accident. I was making you a knife…and working to fast, trying to finish before you got back….. then the knife slipped and well-“

You stop rambling. Holding up your injured hand.

Jinx becomes lighter, letting out a breath.

“Aww….you made me a knife..”

“Surpriseeee…..”

You say, rubbing the back of your neck with your good hand.

Jinx is standing right in front of you. A soft smile on her lips.

“Y’know that’s really sweet of you trinket…”

She tucks a strain of hair behind your ear making you blush.

“Now….. let’s get you fixed up!”

Her eyes start darting around.

“There should be a first aid kit somewhereeeee.” She begins looking under tables.

“Aaaha! Found it!”

You look at the small container. It had neon paint splattered all over it.

You jump up on the work table.

“Okay. Let me see what I’m working with.”

She motions to your hand.

“I mean, It’s not that bad. I think I can just do it myself.”

You say looking at the bandages.

“Don’t be silly. I promise I’ll be careful. Okay.”

You pause, before nodding, giving her your hand.

“I trust you Jinx.” Your voice just above a whisper. Jinx’s cheeks flushed at your words.

She looks down at your injury.

The cut wasn’t too deep, but it ran across your thumb to the back of your hand.

“Soooo, we’ve definitely got to clean this. Which is gonna sting like pretty bad.”

You nod. Ready.

Jinx pours a liquid over your hand.

You slightly wince at the sensation.

She starts to softly blow on the wound. Which helped soothe the nerves.

“There we go….all clean.”

She glances up at you briefly.

“You know….you have really pretty hands.”

Her voice is soft as she holds your hands with care.

“Jinx.” you roll your eyes.

“What…..you do.”

She smirks.

“Now we just have to rap it up!”

She grabs some gauze and begins to carefully rap it around your hand.

“When I’m all done I’m gonna draw tiny little doodles all over hand.”

She says, poking your hand.

You let out a little laugh. Watching her wind the gauze around and around your hand.

“And there we go, all better! You’re as good as new!”

She chuckles lightly.

“How do you feel?”

“It feels a lot better! Thank you doctor Jinx.”

You say in a funny voice, as you begin to stand.

“Oh wait wait wait…. I almost forgot.”

She looks at you mischief in her eyes once again.

“I gotta kiss it better. Otherwise, all my hard work will have been for nothing.”

You pause. Before deciding to play along.

“Well, we can’t have that. My hand might fall off or something as a result.”

You look closely at your bandaged hand.

“Exactly!”

She holds your injured hand up kissing it softly.

“Oh and aw…give me the other one too.”She kisses your other hand.

“And just to be safe.” She gets up on her tiptoes kissing your cheek. And then the other one.

You are a blushing mess at this point.

“And who can forget……”

Her lips meet yours in a sweet kiss.

You can’t help but smile.

“You know I really love you right?”

You say, pulling away just enough to look into her eyes. You want her to know you mean it.

She nods. Putting her forehead to yours.

“I love you too my little trinket.”

[romanreignsbae]

Drunk On Love - R.R

He carried you gently into the house, your body swaying as you clung to him, giggling drunkenly between soft, sleepy mumbles. The night had gotten away from you, and now, in your tipsy haze, you were completely at his mercy. “Roman” you giggled, nuzzling your face into his chest as he held you up, “I’m like, sooo drunk... but I’m okay, I swear, I just love you so much, like, look at you… you’re the best!”

Roman smiled softly, his arms steady around you as he helped you into the bathroom. “I’m glad you had fun, baby..” he said gently, brushing your hair out of your face. “But now it’s time to get you cleaned up.”

You gave him a sleepy, exaggerated nod. “I’m fine, I swear… Just like, I missed you so much, Roman. You’re my favourite.” You hiccupped, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Your giggles were adorable, even if you could barely keep your eyes open. Gently, he turned on the warm water, making sure the temperature was just right before he helped you into the tub. You slid down with a sigh of contentment, sinking into the warm water as if it were a giant hug. "Ahh, this is soooo nice..." you sighed, your voice slurred and dreamy as you leaned back, your eyes half-lidded.

Roman smiled at you, grabbing a washcloth and starting to gently wash your hair. You tilted your head back with a small whine of protest, but quickly relaxed into it. “You’re so good to me, Roman,” you mumbled, your voice thick with affection. “You’re, like, the best husband. I don’t deserve you, but I’m so glad I got you…”

Roman chuckled softly, running his fingers through your hair, careful not to let you fall asleep in the tub. “I’m happy to take care of you,” he said, his voice low and soothing. "Just relax, baby."

You lazily stretched out your arms, reaching for him, your hands brushing against his chest. “Roman, I just love you, you know? I love your smile. And your hair, and your hands, and how you always take care of me…” Your voice trailed off as your eyes fluttered shut. “You make everything so perfect…”

He helped you out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel, lifting you easily as if you were weightless. “I’ve got you, don’t worry..” he said softly, smiling at your clinging form. “Let’s get you comfy.”

“Roman… I can’t… I mean… I wanna…” You mumbled something incomprehensible, but he just smiled and led you to the bedroom. As you stumbled beside him, you grabbed at his shirt and pulled him down, giggling. “I wanna be with you all night… like, all night forever… you’re mine, right?”

He grinned, carefully helping you into the bed and tucking you under the covers. “Always, baby” he whispered, brushing your hair out of your face, his heart swelling with love as you gave him that sleepy, dreamy smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You snuggled into the blankets, pulling him closer as you looked up at him with wide, affection-filled eyes. “You’re so warm... I could just stay here forever.”

Roman chuckled, brushing your hair back, and reached for a glass of water. “Here, drink some water, sweetie” he said, coaxing you to take a sip. “You need to stay hydrated, okay?”

You pouted playfully but took the water from him, sipping it slowly as he sat beside you, watching over you with a fond smile. “You’re like… a knight in shining armor, taking care of me… I’m so lucky. But… you’re also super hot..” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy with the pull of sleep.

He laughed softly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “I’m glad you think so” he said. "Now eat a little something." He got you a snack, and though you were too shaky to feed yourself, he gently placed the spoon in your mouth, feeding you as you giggled and made silly comments. “You’re so nice to me… I love you” you muttered in between bites, your voice warm with affection.

When you were finally full and beginning to wind down, Roman slipped into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You immediately curled into him, your face nestled against his chest. “You’re just… perfect, Roman” you whispered. “I’m so happy. I just want to be here with you. All the time.”

He kissed the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair as he held you. “And I’ll always be here, baby..” he murmured. “You don’t ever have to worry bout that.”

You let out a contented sigh, drifting into a peaceful sleep, still clutching onto him, your soft breathing the only sound in the room. Roman stayed awake for a while, watching over you as you slept, making sure you were comfortable, safe, and at ease. Every now and then, you’d mumble something cute or snuggle closer to him, and he’d smile, knowing how lucky he was to be there, taking care of you.

When morning came, he’d be there, ready with more water, maybe some aspirin, and cuddles to help you recover. But for now, he just held you close, letting you sleep soundly in his arms, knowing that tonight, he’d been exactly where he wanted to be.

[prettyboykatsuki]

fang i need to see yukimiya with an oversexed s/o so bad

i think about this all the time bc of hypersexuality

tags for some implied religious trauma on mr yukimiyas part and very explicit sexual content. reader is very wanton lol, 18+

it is . sooooo hard for him. the thing is yukimiya genuinely thinks of you as such a warm, kind person. his feelings for you are so deep and sincere and completely removed from any lust he might feel for you. or at least that lust is intertwined with a stronger desire to be gentle and intimate and sweet with you yk

but you are sooooo horny and so shameless and it is soooo much for that poor boy. i do genuinely think yukimiya has like self imposed saving himself for marriage thing. and he's super upfront about it with you from the start bc u so obviously want to jump his bones. he has a very Strong sense of discipline overall.

like the first time you kiss you're just like... all over him. hands in his hair, pressed against his lap, tongue in mouth and he is trying to handle all the sensory input and failing. he has to PRY you off of him and he's so red and he's like no no we can't go any further.

and you pout jokingly but you never push him. you're so sweet about it, maybe a little teasing but that's it. you always express your desires and voice them, always tell him whats on you mind. if you think he looks handsome or sexy or whatever—you'll sort of fidget with the end of your straw and bite and make a comment so unbelievably lewd before moving right along.

you make these like... eyes at him. fuck me eyes, he's heard the term before but he didn't really get it until he met you. you know exactly what you want from him and you're thinking about how you can get it. a little dazed, very determined. always gets him sooo flush.

you brush things off easily enough when he blows you off about it. you're a lot but you're not....forceful or anything. he makes a little face of faux disappointment and you laugh it off and thats all there really is but the longer you date the less he feels sure of himself.

yukimiya wanted to get married young and didnt see a whole lot of purpose in trying to lose virginity to someone he didn't love so he held onto it for longer than most people. that plus growing up religious its just something he was so sure about it.

and he does want to treat you well. marry you. yukimiya is the first guy to ever be such a gentleman to you and he doesnt want to taint that because of his own ...desires. its dirty to him. he doesn't think it's bad when you want things, but it's different when he wants things.

but it gets. harder and harder. you're so forward and you are also so good at touching him (too good) and so attractive already without trying very hard. you could do anything and look insanely beautiful to him but god.

you really don't go farther than making out and heavy petting. but that in itself gets so obscene. the way you space out your kisses, the way you flick your tongue - how your hands slide up his chest and neck, thumb rubbing against his ears, how you carry your weight in his lap, how you use your teeth. you kiss him like you could eat him whole.

when your hand gets on his belt he always loses his sense of reason - only barely tears himself a way from it each time. half-hard and apologetic. eventually you get the feeling that he's not even... it's not like he doesn't want to do it but he's holding onto beliefs he only barely has.

you have to have a long conversation about it i think. give him a peptalk about how you know how much he loves you and sex can be intimate too etc. when he's still resistant to it, you make a compromise. no penetration until he's ready, even if that means marriage. no sex. you think its silly but it helps him make sense of everything.

i think he agrees to this kind of blindly, assuming it will take the edge and tension off. like letting the pressure out slowly so something doesnt explode.

but. once you open that box, you can't really close it again.

so you do everything but have sex. and it absolutely makes him want to fuck you.

its light at first. dry humping while you make out and making him cum in his jeans. giving a handjob or teaching him how to finger you ("for when you do fuck me, someday"). directing him on how exactly you like getting head - on foreplay, your sure hands over his shaky ones as he make him squeeze your tits and guide them into his mouth. tell him the other places on your body you like being touched.

you teach him things about his own body too. or rather, he learns them because of you. his ears get red and sensitive, he likes when you bite his ear lobes lightly.his lips too. likes your hands on his biceps or chest or back, kissing and rubbing his muscles appreciatively. it does something to him. he knows he's attractive but it's... different. it's a nice feeling to be wanted but being wanted by you makes his whole body break into these terrible shivers.

he learns that the tip of his cock is way more sensitve than it should be. he learns he doesn't mind when you take advantage of this either.

he's got a few moles on his body and he likes how you kiss them when you go down on him. on his hip and inner thigh and some other places. likes when you rub up against him in general, when you cling to him during it or when your nails dig into his arms

yukimiya likes how... relaxed you get when you feel good. the first time he makes you cum with his mouth he feels so absurdly accomplished, even more so when you giggle at him and kiss him so full of love.

nothing changes. you go on dates and see each other. sleep in the same bed. but when you stay over at his place now - he's started to anticipate your little escapades.

no penetration. he knows that should mean not getting his dick anywhere near you. but you're persuasive. it's fine, yuu-kun. just slide your dick against me, it'll feel good. you can do it between my thighs, if you want.

the first time yukimiya slides his hard cock through the soft, slick folds of your pussy he nearly passes out. randomly on a date night. it just turns out that way. your hands on the back of his neck, kissing him as it slips through the sticky warmth.

it feels so good. it's mindblowing. it's so unfair. how can something feeling so much better when everything else you've been feeling had felt so incredible? how can there be anything more tempting than what you already do?

but there is. its you with your ass up and your thighs squeeze as yukimiya fucks the plush of them - tip knocking against your clit, catching on your hole, one misstep away from thrusting. the thought haunts him even as he's cumming up against your belly and thighs.

there's a guilt he feels about greed in particular, even more than lust. sometimes you go at it and he just. can't help it. can't help but want more. can't help but shamefully jerk off in the bathroom after you've already done it for a while.

you come onto him the same as always, more now that he's receptive to it but god he can never turn down your advances. even when it'd be smarter to do it. all it takes is his name now, or maybe just you taking his glasses off so it's a little easier to kiss him. it scares him a little, just how easy it'd be to slip up and . take you really. thin threads of control fraying as he gets close and closer to just giving you what you want.

it's Hard. he holds onto it for so long. i think he snaps eventually when you do something very thoughtful for him on a bday or anniversay and he just becomes uncharacteristcally aggressive (not that ur mad) and u have such intense deep missionary. like eye contact, chest to chest, slow rolling of his hips while he grinds into you. it is such a crazy feeling.

yukimiya just really. bends to your whims after you have these breakthroughs. he is so unbearably seduced by you even when he tries so hard to fight but it . god its rough on his brain. shame and pleasure are not opposites for him, that's for sure.

[goldcleaver]

Phainon will fail Nikador's trial.

Let me explain;

TLDR; Phainon will fail the trial as Nikador will reject him. However, he will be chosen by Kephale to lead the people of Amphoreus to victory. The coreflame of Nikador will instead go to an unwilling Mydei.

Soooo, Phainon is off on a big adventure trying to claim Nikador's divinity after surrendering their coreflame to the Vortex of Genesis since the ambassador of the prophecy doubts his strength of will. I'm here to tell you that he will fail this trial in some shape or form.

Throughout the trailblaze mission, Phainon proves on multiple occasions that he worries about those he cares about constantly. Obviously, the best example of this is how desperately he wants to help Mydei fight Nikador. When he's denied, and sent to discover Nikador's weakness instead, he spends the next couple of hours in-game yapping about how much time they're wasting. He's worried out of his mind, and the rest of the cast picks up on it all the time.

Not only that, but he doubts himself. Something troubles him ahead of surrendering the Coreflame to the Vortex, which both Castorice and Dan Heng notice. He seems to have no qualms about admitting it, but he clearly can't shake whatever it is making him falter. 

While there is nothing explicitly stating what he's worrying about, the possibilities are endless. Prior to being chosen by the prophecy, Phainon was fuelled by his desire for vengeance, described by Castorice as being a "hollow shell". She questions whether or not his new mission takes priority over his desire for revenge. Similarly, Mydei says Phainon's fear holds him back, and that his resolve must be toughened if he is to withstand whatever Nikador throws at him. Phainon evidently wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's a very troubled heart.

What this shows is that Phainon is not ready to dedicate himself entirely to the fight, which Nikador demands. Nikador uses extreme violence to extinguish strife and war to maintain the balance of Amphoreus, which currently doesn't quite line up with Phainon's character. He is more inclined to using violence as a way of defending and protecting people.

Now, that's not to say that Phainon has nothing to do with Nikador at all. He seems to be a figure the people can rally around and follow into battle, much like Nikador. However, I don't think this is enough to see him through his trial.

So, while Phainon will be rejected by Nikador on account of his fears, he will instead be chosen by Kephale.

Phainon is the Deliverer. This isn't just a silly nickname given to him by Mydei - it's his role in the story of Amphoreus. When he has overcome his own struggles, he will lead the people and the Chrysos Heirs through the crisis and towards a new dawn. In Aglaea's own words;

Now, what exactly she means by this is unclear, but it gives me an uneasy feeling. The only miracles we have seen so far have all involved looking back in time, which Phainon currently cannot do. However, Aglaea's words are eerily similar to those describing the legend of Kephale's return in the Tides of the Basin. Here, Kephale leads the people to victory against the black tide, which seems more fitting for Phainon's character.

So, Phainon will be chosen by Kephale, whether that means receiving their Coreflame or assuming their identity, or perhaps he already is Kephale, in his own way.

This is not only conveyed to us textually via foreshadowing within the story itself, but it is also communicated via visual design. Phainon's design is positively littered with Kephale's symbol and other sun-related imagery.

I can spot at least 12 instances of Kephale's symbol or sun motifs in his design. That's no coincidence. In comparison, the only real reference to Nikador is the fact that he wears white, which Nikador also does, according to the information provided via the Tides of the Basin.

But if Phainon won't get Nikador's divinity, then who will?

Well, the game basically shoves the answer in your face; Mydei. He's the prince of Castrum Kremnos, he has some manner of bloodlust, and he has no reservations about using violence as a means to an end. On paper, he's the perfect candidate, which Phainon states to Aglaea. However, Mydei has refused the Coreflame. He has done so implicitly, as well as explicitly, to both Phainon and Aglaea. He doesn't want the Coreflame, nor the divinity that comes with it, because he's afraid of leading his people down the same dark path as his predecessor. Seemingly, the only reason he wanted to deliver the final blow to Nikador was for bragging rights.

Thus, something has to change drastically for Mydei to not only be offered the Coreflame, but to accept it. What this will be, I have no idea, but it will start with Nikador spitting Phainon back out without making him a demigod.

And if that wasn't enough to convince you; they are literally associated with these Titans in-game:

In their respective entries in Amphoreus' Saga of Heroes, Phainon is depicted with the symbol of Kephale, whereas Mydei is depicted with Nikador's. Whether this is an oversight on hoyo's behalf or a not-so-subtle attempt at foreshadowing, we will likely never know, but it's interesting food for thought.

Now, this isn't some earth-shattering revelation, nor is it some super deep character analysis, but it will be super interesting to see Phainon's story unfold. His character development has the potential to be some of the best stuff hoyo has ever written if they manage to pull it off.