#it really is such a good idea the ANGST POTENTIAL

[rinneverse]

TO THE ANON WHO SENT ME A BLADIE REQUEST i see you and i LOVEEEEEE love love it so much!!!!!! i might be a hot minute but i absolutely will try to write something that will blow ur MIND!!!!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS x ISAT part 1: In Stars and Necromancy.

(Part 2)

[poke-poke-poke]

hear me out - i think leon and nihilego would be a fun combo

their designs compliment each other well lol

(i like villain au ideas though, so i may be biased, aesthetic wise)

[phoenixcatch7]

Loz fandom stop being angsty and give the daydreaming kids on big fun adventures with a cool glowing sword some actual whimsy and joy challenge

[total-drama-brainrot]

TD World Tour AU, where Noah doesn't tell Owen that Alejandro is an eel in London... In Area 51, Noah is accidentally splashed with an alien truth potion (which wears off after a few days) and he talks to Owen... Owen asks Noah what he truly thinks about Alejandro, and Truth-Potion Affected Noah says this: "I have mixed feelings for Alejandro. He's a brilliant, interesting guy and I like him, but I don't trust him. He's like a slippery eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. Basically, Heather with social skills. Wait a minute, why am I telling you this?!"... What if Alejandro secretly heard Noah call him all those conflicting things + Alejandro also learns that Noah is affected with an alien truth potion? 👽

Alright, you got me. I'm an absolute sucker for truth potion plots, especially when the character(s) effected by them are usually either pathological liars or incredibly secretive- of which Noah absolutely falls into the second category, given he shares so little personal information.

I'll gloss over why Noah declined to shit-talk Alejandro in London (though there's so many ways this change in behaviour could be justified) since the focal point of this hypothetical centred around their time in Nevada, so let's start from the beginning of the Area 51 challenge.

Area 51:

Before we start, it'll have to be established that no one was eliminated in London. Let's say that the majority vote went towards Duncan (team CIRRRRH voted him out immediately because they found his re-admission to the competition unfair, I guess. I imagine he'd also vote himself, if not as a plan to escape the competition he'd been actively skiving from, then just as an act of spite) but Chris instead claimed it was a rewards challenge- much like he does in Greece- because he doesn't want to let Duncan slip away again so soon.

I see no reason to alter the first part of the challenge- the sneaking into Area 51 portion- since team CIRRRRH's course of entry is fairly straightforward. Noah's presence doesn't make much of a difference to how it would play out; the majority of them throw their rocks and run, Owen gets lasered over the fence and Owen-napped, ect ect.

When both teams have managed to make their way into the Black Box Warehouse, Noah immediately suggests they should prioritise rescuing Owen. Tyler's quick to agree, since he's a firm believer in the "no man left behind" mentality (and he probably makes a not-so-subtle jab towards Noah for his chance of tune compared to London, where both he and Owen did leave Tyler behind) leaving Duncan and Alejandro to split from the group- Duncan in search of Gwen, and Alejandro just takes the opportunity to finally be free from his 'incompetent teammates' and prioritises finding an artifact.

Noah and Tyler come across the contraption Owen's trapped in, Tyler punches it in a futile effort to break it open, and the face hugger cube drops into Noah's hands. This is where the point of divergence comes into play; Tyler has his E.T. moment with one of the face huggers, but Noah- who's a tad bit more observant than Alejandro, and used to dodging surprise attacks from his various older siblings (and Izzy)- anticipates his own face hugger attack and promptly starts a game of cat-and-mouse with a taser alien hot on his heels.

The commotion of which attracts the rest of his team. Alejandro and Duncan arrive on the scene to see Tyler being electrocuted by an alien and Noah running in circles evading another.

Duncan attempts to rip the face hugger from Tyler's face, finding success at the cost of sending Tyler trampling into Owen's captive contraption (essentially taking Alejandro's canonical place in this scene) and inadvertently freeing Owen.

Meanwhile, Alejandro swipes up the nearest box he can find and snags the alien chasing Noah, who's still very loudly panicking as he flees, and succeeds! The alien is swiftly captured into the box, netting team CIRRRRH their artifact, and Noah promptly goes careening into the nearest tower of junk in his face hugger-fuelled hysteria. This causes another box to topple from the peak of the tower, landing directly on Noah's head and spilling its contents onto the bookworm- glass vials filled with a mysterious, luminescent cobalt blue liquid shatter into pieces drenching Noah in whatever they contained. (i.e. truth potion.)

Owen has his false-amnesia moment, characterised by his Joker makeover, and Alejandro enacts his revenge post-hypnotic suggestion after being addressed as "Al" one too many times.

Noah, understandably, swiftly objects to Owen's treatment and demands that Alejandro snap him out of it. Alejandro concedes, and Owen's brought back to himself. At least, for a moment, before the fatigue of having his mind messed with sends Owen into near-catatonia (the same as canon), meaning he has to be ferried through the Warehouse and back to the Jet by Alejandro and Duncan.

Things carry on canonically from there; Noah's just sort of there for the most part, though there'd be a minor hint to his newfound proclivity for honesty. Something along the lines of him giving an uncharacteristically honest answer to Owen as to who he's voting- Tyler, of course, since he was the one who ultimately threw the challenge for them... and also because Tyler still holds some resentment towards Noah for what happened in London, and Noah feels guilty about it every time he looks at the jock. Wait, why did he say that?

Sometime between this and the elimination scene, Noah wipes the truth-goop off of himself, but not before the effects have already started.

Tyler's voted out, yada yada yada.

The Jet:

Thus begins the start of "Picnic at Hanging Dork". Team CIRRRRH, consisting of just Alejandro, Duncan, Owen and Noah, are slumming it up in the Economy Cabin. Alejandro tries to rally his team by asking how to break apart Courtney and Heather's tentative co-operation. Owen suggests having Alejandro seduce Heather, since it worked for both Bridgette and Leshawna. Duncan makes his "Babe Olympics" comment. Noah pipes up that playing with someone's feelings is pretty scummy, even for someone competing for a million dollars.

Alejandro takes Noah's reluctance towards his methodology poorly; he hadn't spoken up before, when Alejandro had utilized the same strategy against other girls- and even Owen noticed that, so surely Noah did too- so why was he to outwardly against him using the same tricks? Duncan agrees, and offers ''his'' idea of having Alejandro flirt with Courtney to throw both her and Heather off their games (since Heather has an obvious crush on Alejandro), and things follow canon.

Then, the scene between Alejandro and Courtney happens. Noah scoffs at the display from the side lines, prompting Owen to ask him why he's so against Alejandro's plan.

"I mean, you never said anything before, when he flirted with Bridgette and Leshawna." Owen comments, light-hearted in nature but with an underlying questioning tone.

Noah's eyes flicker with a cobalt glow, easily mistaken for a trick of the light, and he speaks without even thinking.

"Yeah, because I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Bridgette was happenstance, and Leshawna's whole deal could've been a coincidence, or some massive misunderstanding. But this?" Noah extends an accusing hand out towards a smug looking Alejandro, then pans it over to a flattered Courtney, "He's outright toying with Courtney's feelings after she was cheated on in front of an international audience. It's scummy."

Owen nods in understanding, momentary contemplation evident in the pouted curve of his lips, and he chimes in.

"Does that mean you don't like Al?"

"I never said that."

"Well, how do you feel about him, then?"

Again, a flash of blue light against the hickory backdrop of Noah's eyes, and he responds thoughtlessly.

"I guess I have mixed feelings about him. On the one hand, he's slippery, like an eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. He's like if you took all of the worst aspects of Heather, wrapped them up in a pretty package, and gave them social skills..." He holds his hands out before him in a scale-like manner, with the left tipped downwards and tie right raised by his chin. Then, the two hands swap positions.

"And on the other hand, he's brilliant. I've never met anyone as talented as Alejandro; he's smart, he's athletic, he's funny. It's almost unfair just how perfect everything about him is- even his face is perfect. It's ridiculous! Infuriating, even. It's so hard to dislike him, even when I know he's bad news, but that doesn't mean I trust him."

Owen stands slack jawed beside his best friend, both impressed and stunned at the raw honesty of Noah's tirade. Noah, now a little more aware of himself, realises that he's said more than he intended to- more than he thinks he's ever spoken in one go throughout the entirety of Total Drama. He's not usually one for speeches, after all, let alone honest ones.

He's always been the type to play his cards close to his chest, so why...?

"I, uh, didn't mean to go off like that."

And he also didn't mean to admit it, either. What was going on?

The look Owen gives him is, in a word, vivid. The blonde has a shit-eating grin stretching across his face, a sort of elated smugness practically glowing from his features.

"Sounds like someone has a cruuuush!~"

What? No? No! Not at all, where would Owen even get that idea?!

Noah splutters to correct Owen's assumption (to disastrous results, because he does sort-of has a crush on Alejandro, so the truth potion doesn't allow him to outright deny it), and in his preoccupied state he misses how a calculating pair of sage green eyes never seems to stray from him.

Alejandro has a lot to think about in regards to a certain cynic, it seems.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

alright~ a few updates about everything! so this weekend I'll be seeing changkyun in chicago- so I prolly won't be posting until after I'm alive again from that 😂😅 (I am vv excited about it- I just know I'll be vv tired when I return home). Anyways, I have a few fics in the works~ one of them that is a request 🤭 I'm vv excited to work on them! But I think I'm going to change my masterlist a bit when I come back. I'm going to retire a few groups from the main masterlist and I've been debating for the past year about it... But I think I'm going to add a yearly masterlist- So it would go from most recent to the beginning of this year~

I'm also thinking about changing my pfp- I haven't been really into stray kids for uh... years- But I will be sure to make an update about that if I go thru with that too- (It may be ji changmin next 🫣🤭)

Anyways those are my few updates 🥰💖

[ghostorbz]

Guess who finally read zimvoid :)

[milf-harrington]

im in a "steve has a good mum" mood so here are some random but positive-ish headcanons i have about her

ive got one where she's australian literally just because

she comes from a big family who didnt approve of her choice in husband so she hasnt spoken to them in years (a regret on her part, but she's stubborn and proud)

she had steve out of wedlock so her parents dont speak to her but she visits her sister a lot

she's an only child who married into the harrington family for the name

she's an extravagant socialite, maybe a model or a small-time actress

she's respected in town bc she's super involved in the community

she loves steve but resents what his father turned him into so she avoids him through his teen years (a regret)

she loves steve but doesnt know how to be a mother, she genuinely thinks she does enough by giving him freedom and money

she loves steve, he was her best friend when he was a kid bc her husband was always working and even if she lost him for a bit during the king steve years shes proud of who he grows into

she follows her husband around to stop him from cheating bc she doesnt want him to tear their family apart

she kind of a mix of joyce byers and karen wheeler

she's a mean girl at heart which is where steve gets it from and they gossip in the kitchen

she acts dumb on purpose so that people let their guard down around her (she does this to her husband as well)

she's the actual brains in the family

if she found out steve was bi she'd be scared for him and would run interference so his dad wouldnt find out if he had a boy over

she comes back to hawkins as soon as she hears about starcourt

she heads back when she hears about the murders in hawkins bc steve isnt answering the fucking phone and she gets there right after the earthquakes

she's french

she's italian

she has a nickname for steve that has nothing to do with his name and he either finds it sweet or deeply embarrassing

[stellaeforged]

years after the trial, things had been quiet. but even then, talia was cautious; it was in her nature to be on the lookout, head turned over her shoulder constantly. it wasn’t as if she made a peaceful life for herself; she knew that choosing to testify against them was an invitation of their wrath. but even so ... even so, a part of her stupidly hoped that maybe, just maybe, she was wrong on this. that the org was torn apart from the inside out, that she would be able to look foward now. looking at it all, it was stupid of her to think it would die quietly, peacefully. it was still alive and well, thriving even, and it was sinking its claws into her. 

she had been walking home from her school once her last kid was picked up, a little later than normal. winter kept the sky dark, ominous, and she had been stubborn enough to take the same route home. she could have called thomas, even taken a cab. but for some reason, she didn’t think of it. her guard was down, and they had waited for that one in a million moment. she had noticed them when they first crossed the street onto her sidewalk, and soon enough they had caught up. there was a squeal of the car tires, and as one of them had lunged at her, she just remembered the car, the doors opening-- 

she wasn’t completely sure what had happened after that. 

they were young. young and with that same branding and probably in the same position she had been. eager to prove themselves, to keep their spot. she remembered that they had been nervous, that they were clumsy. that that was probably what kept her from getting shoved into the car. she can’t even think of how she thwarted it off. she just felt the aftermath of it all. the throbbing, the wetness, the -- shit. the wetness. her hand was red. no, no no no, that can’t be-- 

dark eyes snapped open, body immediately curling into itself and then recoiling in the agony. ‘-- where-- where am i--’ words spilled out of her as she fumbled to pull herself upright in the hospital bed, but the sight before her stopped her in her tracks. that sting at her eyes, her nose, the warmth in her face, the tears that began to dribble down her cheeks. she wasn’t sure whether it was relief or a different sort of horror clenching at her heart at that moment. ‘-- i’m so sorry, i’m -- i’m sorry, i didn’t -- i thought --’ but her voice gave out on her, her expression crumbling; she was too tired, too exhausted to hide her cries. ‘ i’m sorry ...’ // @heroexxs !! 

[itoshi-s]

Zariii Hi!! This is actually the first time I sent you an ask (Bc I'm shy huehue) How do you feel about having the best friend's older brother trope with sae? This trope with him has been up in my head for days sjjzwkkzlandje

ooooo that is interesting !!!!!! cause it can go two ways — we can give the itoshis another sibling that would be our bestie — or something more canon compliant ( which is def my fav out of the two lol ) and instead, we’re rin’s one and only best friend :( we already know how he is, reserved to a fault, always keeping to himself only. the only scenario that’d make sense would be us meeting rin just about when sae first left for spain, kind of taking his place you get me?? cause i don’t think rin would be too fond of looking for a friendship any later than this lol. he tells you about sae all the time — you never got a chance to meet the guy — and the stories and superlatives are just enough to form this big idea of him in your mind. rin makes him sound so effortlessly cool, you wish you could see how he is yourself, but don’t ever get the opportunity until years later, when the brothers are already broken up and not even on speaking terms anymore. you know how badly sae messed with rin’s confidence and worldview in general — it was hard to stand him sometimes, even for you — and so, you loathe the guy before you even get to chat to him properly.

and you honestly wish you never got the chance at all. cause the more you speak to him, the more you struggle to hate him. you’re more than aware on how it would — definitely will — ruin your relationship with rin, but you cannot help and wish to see more of the older itoshi brother. :(((

[yamujiburo]

Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.

Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.

Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.

She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.

Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.

Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.

Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.

The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.

At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.

Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.

She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.

They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).

The end~

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader warnings: angst <3; VERY LONG

wrote this listening to roses <3

Rafe Cameron held grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that. 

Fucking Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he liked her. And then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team. Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back. 

The humiliation was killing him. 

Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he wanted it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t just enough to ruin her reputation—he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most. And what would hurt more than being replaced? Not just by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea, really. To prove that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help of course.

And that’s when he noticed you.

Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a good choice.

You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like it was your superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party. You didn’t utter a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.

Hell, he didn’t even know you were a cheerleader until that night. 

Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica. 

You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background. 

You were perfect.

If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new queen of the university, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego. It would prove that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought. 

“You really gonna do it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. ‘M doing it.”

“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Kelce’s skepticism was exactly what he expected, and honestly, it made the challenge even sweeter.

 “You think so?” he said, his tone light but with an edge of determination. “Watch me.”

Kelce, always the instigator, leaned forward with a smirk. “Come on, Cameron. You really think you can turn that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not queen material.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t some movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot. Jessica had something that can’t be taught.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now. She learned how to act the part, and I can do the same with her.”

Like a school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were. 

Kelce took a swig of his drink, clearly enjoying where the conversation was going. “Alright, I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? Because she’s got a long way to go, my guy.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months. By the end of it, she’ll be turning heads. Maybe even more.”

Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I’ll bet you a grand you can’t pull it off.”

Kelce laughed, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand says you can’t turn her into the hottest girl in school.”

Rafe’s eyes glinted with determination. “You’re on,” he said, without hesitation. “In a month or two, you’ll be handing me that fucking cash, and she’ll be the one everyone’s talking about. Looking all pretty in my arms.”

Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Topper shook his head again, still grinning as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”

He clinked his glass with theirs, the bet sealed. 

“You better start saving up.”

This plan was flawless. 

It was so good that even in his drunken haze, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed, like you were someone who mattered. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. And with Jessica, it had been easy—too easy. She’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his golden boy appeal. 

The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice. At first, he didn’t approach you, just observed. 

He had to figure out how to crack the code, how to make you see him without scaring you off. It took a week before he made his first move.

You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf. “Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, a little startled, but nodded, shifting your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To make you feel special, to pull you out of your shell and into his orbit.

He knew he still had to tread carefully. The wrong move could send you running, and he couldn’t afford that.

You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. He noticed the way your hand shook slightly when you turned the page. Rafe leaned in a little closer, just enough to make his presence known without crowding you.

“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.

You glanced up, surprised he was still there. “I guess. I have a lot to catch up on.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”

He could tell you were surprised. Probably didn't expect him to know you shared the same class. And he didn't, until last week.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”

You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book. “Maybe. It’s kind of her thing.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you. “You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”

“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you actually know what’s going on, unlike me.”

He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just being there. He didn’t push, didn’t try too hard. He wanted you to get comfortable with him, to see him as someone you could rely on.

“I’m sorry about Jessica.”

The way you blurted the words out told him you hadn’t meant to say it. 

Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen in his hand. He could feel the familiar anger bubbling up, but he forced it down, keeping his expression calm. This was exactly what he didn’t want—Jessica’s name being brought up, especially by you.

But he couldn’t let you see that. 

He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was just a painful memory he was trying to move past. “Oh,” he said softly, his voice controlled and measured. “You know about that?”

You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, clearly regretting bringing it up. “Yeah… I mean, it’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I just—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

Rafe forced a smile, as if he was grateful for your concern. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a small sigh as if he was relieved to talk about it, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle. “I guess it’s just one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”

You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page. 

“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”

He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he quickly disguised it as a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, well, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

He noticed the way you seemed to relax as if you were relieved that he wasn’t angry. He needed to shift the conversation away from Jessica, and back to you, where it should be. “But hey,” he said, his voice brightening as if he was genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. “Right."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”

Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you. Easy.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you looked away, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I’m just…here.”

Rafe shook his head, his smile softening, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at him with those wide eyes, as if you were trying to figure him out. Rafe held your gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.

Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."

Oh, you were too perfect for this.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if the conversation had lightened his mood.

 “Anytime."

It was a perfect conversation, one that made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal, something real. And from the look on your face, it worked.

But inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, even indirectly. It was a reminder of why he was doing this in the first place. 

He plastered on another smile, picking up his pen and tapping it lightly against his notebook. “So,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “You think you can help me with this econ stuff? Because I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

As you both turned your attention back to your notes, Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction. He was winning that bet on way or another. 

Over the next few weeks, Rafe made sure to stick to his plan. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life. He was always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel noticed, special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and with every passing day, you were warming up to him more and more.

He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently—nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention. The change was gradual, but it was happening, and Rafe could see it.

The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, the kind of place you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you—made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you belonged in a world that had always seemed so out of reach. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rafe said, his voice smooth as silk. You hesitated, biting your lip, feeling out of place just imagining yourself in his world.

“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.

Rafe grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”

His gaze was so earnest, so convincing, that you found yourself nodding. “Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”

The first party was initially awkward—loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that felt worlds away from where you belonged. 

But Rafe stayed close. 

The moment you walked in, the loud music and flashing lights overwhelmed your senses. You clung a little closer to him, who noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd. He was different tonight—more confident, more assertive. 

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”

You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to ignore. People were noticing. Whispering. It was exactly what Rafe wanted.

He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles. Rafe kept you close as he greeted them, his hand never leaving your back.

“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”

Kelce looked you up and down, his smirk growing. “Well, well, Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Topper raised his drink in your direction, his smile more genuine. “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”

You managed a small chuckle, feeling the weight of their attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”

Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away, replaced by something more calculating as he turned back to his friends.

“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”

Topper leaned against the counter, his gaze following you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”

Rafe shot him a look, his expression hardening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Topper shrugged. “Just saying. She doesn’t seem like the type who’s cut out for this crowd. Might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”

Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica. And if he pulls this off, it’s gonna be legendary.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”

He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—something he quickly buried as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand.

When you returned to the group, his expression softened instantly. He slipped back into the charming, attentive guy he’d been playing for you all night.

“Got something good?” he asked, nodding towards your drink.

You giggled, holding up your cup. “Just punch. Thought I’d start slow.”

He snorted, nodding approvingly. “Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything too crazy.”

The night went on like that, Rafe playing the perfect gentleman, always by your side, making sure you were comfortable, that you were enjoying yourself. He introduced you to more people, his arm around your shoulders, subtly guiding you through the social maze with ease. And every time you excused yourself—whether to grab another drink or use the restroom—his demeanor shifted. The smile would slip, and he’d share knowing looks with his friends, a silent acknowledgment of the game they were playing.

But you didn’t see any of that. 

You saw the guy who made you feel like you were finally part of something bigger, like you belonged. And as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing more, laughing, talking, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself start to come down.

Rafe noticed, of course. That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork, and tonight was just the beginning. He was getting what he wanted.

But as he watched you laugh at something Kelce said, genuinely enjoying yourself, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. It was brief, fleeting, but it was there. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something else. He quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself why he was doing this.

He knew better than to get too comfortable. 

He knew his ex wouldn’t stay out of his business forever, and sure enough, she confronted him right before class the next day.

“Rafe, can we talk?”

He didn’t look at her right away, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort. But he couldn’t resist; he turned to her, keeping his expression neutral. “What’s up?”

Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him. Her voice was low, almost pleading. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

She huffed in frustration, clearly not in the mood for games. “Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”

Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?

Jessica’s eyes flashed with anger, but there was something else there too—guilt. 

“No. You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”

He leaned in closer, his smirk turning cold. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around with Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”

"Rafe."

"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."

Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes—the way she’d smiled at him. The same smile she had for someone else, “You don’t get to apologize now. You don’t get to tell me what’s fair.”

Jessica’s expression softened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."

"Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"

"You're being difficult for no reason."

Rafe clenched his jaw, every word she said feeling like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted to lash out, to tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done. But instead, he just stared at her, his eyes hard and cold.

“Stay out of it, Jess” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she’d been expecting this. “Just think about it before you do something stupid."

Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention shifted from her. She had no right to lecture him, no right to tell him what to do.

This was about revenge, about proving a point. You were just a means to an end, nothing more.

But you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game. 

Every time you smiled at him, every time you thanked him for something small, it chipped away at the cold resolve he had built up inside. He told himself it was just part of the plan, that getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. But the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself. 

He didn't even have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class, even crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, just like he’d planned. But instead of feeling satisfied, there was a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, yes, but it wasn’t just on the outside. You were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than just some popular guy who was doing you a favor. You were starting to care, and that terrified him.

One night, after another party where you had danced a little closer, laughed a little louder, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, still talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had. The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—it caught him off guard.

“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d actually enjoy these things, but you make it… I don’t know, easier, I guess.”

Rafe smiled down at you, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted at your words. 

“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”

You looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”

For a split second, he saw you. Not as a means to an end, but as someone he genuinely cared about.

His expression faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

But it was a big deal, and you both knew it.

You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone noticed, someone everyone wanted to be around. And it was all because of him. Rafe had given you that, but he knew he was taking something from you too—your innocence, your trust.

He walked you to your door, his usual confidence wavering as you turned to face him. There was something different in your gaze tonight, something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Rafe… I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began, your voice a little hesitant.

He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? I mean, really. Was it because you felt sorry for me? Or… or something else?”

Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the right words, the ones that wouldn’t hurt you. He could lie, like he’d been doing all along, or he could tell you the truth, risk everything.

But before he could answer, you continued, your voice softer now. “Because… I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Fuck. He’d never expected this, never thought that you would be the one to make him feel something real, something that wasn’t just part of his stupid revenge plan.

He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I just helped you see it.”

You grinned up at him, your eyes shining with gratitud. It was too much, too real, and Rafe could feel the walls he’d carefully constructed around his heart starting to crumble. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time, he felt like he was the one being played.

He couldn’t let you get any closer. If you did, he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plan.

But pushing you away now, after all the effort he’d put in, would raise too many questions. So, he did the only thing he could think of—he leaned down and kissed you.

It was gentle at first, testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were something fragile. Your lips were soft against his, and for a moment, Rafe let himself forget why he was doing this. He let himself enjoy the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way you sighed softly into his mouth.

But then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back.

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, so much hope, and it made him want to break something, anything, just to stop feeling the way he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the kiss had taken something out of him.

You nodded, still dazed, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

This was wrong. 

He knew it was wrong. But in that moment, with the way you were looking at him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched you go, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t afford to second-guess himself now. Not when he was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.

“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.

But now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him. But somewhere along the line, things had changed.

How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.

And yet, the memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the damn time. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by something else—you.

Rafe’s resolve had been wavering for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a bit of a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing that smile.

When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already waiting outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before. It was subtle, but Rafe noticed. 

He noticed everything about you these days.

“Hey,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him that small smile that always made his chest tighten a little. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago. “If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”

He chuckled, glancing over at you as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”

You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar pang in his chest again.

“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”

“See? I knew it,” Rafe teased, but there was an edge of something else in his voice, something he couldn’t quite shake.

The drive to campus was easy, filled with light conversation and the comfortable silence that had developed between you two. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?”

He froze for a split second, his mind racing. Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? But he quickly forced a casual smile, nodding.

“Sure sweets, what’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest. This was the moment he’d been dreading—the moment when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“Why not?” he said, his tone light, but there was a hint of sincerity that even he didn’t expect. “I like you. I like being around you.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest. After a moment, you nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.

“Okay,” you said. “I just... I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just... new.”

“Good new, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with classes, coffee breaks, and more of Rafe’s effortless charm. But that moment in the car stuck with him. You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more. 

Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others. Some guys glanced your way, clearly noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat with you—a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.

As you two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her. He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that put him on edge.

The conversation flowed easily, with her complimenting you on something you’d done at practice the other day, and you blushing at the praise.

Rafe watched, a small smile on his face, but his mind was elsewhere. He could see how much you were changing, how you were starting to come into your own, and it was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.

When Leila left after a few minutes, you turned to Rafe with a grin. “She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”

“She notices you now,” Rafe replied, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked at him, your smile fading slightly. “Is something wrong?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing. Just... thinking.”

“About what?”

He leaned back in his chair. “About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

Rafe smiled back, but the guilt was back, stronger than ever. You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him.

As the afternoon wore on, he found himself more and more distracted by his thoughts. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.

Later that evening, after dropping you off at your dorm, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yo, Cameron. What’s up?”

Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car. “I need to talk, man. About the bet.”

Kelce laughed, clearly not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice. “What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”

Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. It’s just... I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Like, genuinely nice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Kelce responded, his tone more serious.

“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good. You’re flipping the script. Just remember why you’re doing it.”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. “I know, but... She trusts me."

And I trust her, he wanted to add, but didn't.

“Look, Rafe, you’re in too deep to back out now. If you quit, she’ll still get hurt, and you’ll look like a fucking idiot. You gotta see this through. Just... keep your eye on the prize, okay? It’s not about her, it’s about Jessica.”

Rafe nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I just needed to clear my head.”

“Good,” Kelce said. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”

By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.

You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.

The guy leaned in, flashing you a charming smirk, clearly trying to flirt. He wanted to pummel his face to the wall. Rafe watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand casually resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.

The sight made something twist in his chest, something dark and possessive that he hadn’t expected. He'd never felt like this before. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched, his jaw clenching.

You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. Rafe could tell you weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal, something that burned hotter than the guilt. He wanted to go over there, to tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething, trying to keep his cool.

Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the guy finally walked away, you looked relieved, but Rafe was already moving. He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, his eyes locked on you, his heart pounding. You spotted him coming and smiled, but it fell when you saw the look on his face.

“Rafe, what’s—”

He didn’t let you finish. Before you could say another word, he was right in front of you, his hand cupping your face as he pulled you toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the kiss outsider your dorm. This was different. It was fierce, almost desperate as if he needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching. His lips moved against yours with intensity, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you closer. He didn’t care who was around, who was watching. 

All he cared about was you, right there, in his arms.

You froze for a second, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. It was like all the tension, all the confusion, everything that had been building between you two, finally snapped.

Rafe deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a soft moan that only made him kiss you harder, his body pressing against yours like he couldn’t get enough.

People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering, but Rafe didn’t care. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him—dazed, flushed, your lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

“What... what was that?” you asked, your voice shaky, your eyes searching his for answers.

Rafe knew he should say something, explain himself, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you again. Instead, he just shook his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Just couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, still trying to process what had just happened, but there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him. 

He finally stepped back, but kept his hand on your waist, grounding you as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching. 

Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words. She’s mine.

When he looked back at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes and something else—something that looked a lot like longing.

He knew he’d just crossed a line, again, but in that moment, he didn’t care. All he cared about was the way you felt in his arms, the way you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

“C’mon,” Rafe said, his voice softer now. “We’ve got class.”

You nodded, still a little dazed, and let him guide you out of the cafeteria, his hand never leaving yours. He was in deeper than ever, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when you looked at him like that, not when his heart was pounding like this.

As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.

“Rafe—”

“You’re my girl,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours again. “Okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and trusting. Rafe knew he was on the edge of something he couldn’t control, but as he leaned in for one more kiss, slow and tender this time, he realized he didn’t care.

“Rafe…” you began again, speaking against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming. His thumb traced the curve of your jawline.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent. “I just… I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"

“Okay.”

He was already in too deep.

And just like that, he got what he wanted. 

The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, and just like that, you were together.

The next two months were a dream—utter bliss. You weren’t just happy; you were radiant. You’d become the most popular girl in school, and with him by your side, it felt like you were living in some sort of fairy tale. 

Every smile he gave you, every touch, every whispered confession of how perfect you were sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you—your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. It was as if he was falling more and more in love with you every single day. And you, you had never felt this alive.

But deep down, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a sliver of guilt that he pushed aside every time he looked into your trusting eyes.

He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was just a stupid game, something that seemed so insignificant compared to what he feels for you now. He told himself that he had forgotten about it, that it didn’t matter anymore.

After all, what you two had is real, right? And you, completely oblivious to the sinister origins of your relationship, continued to believe in the fairy tale.

Until it ended. 

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere, but there’s something different today—a tension you can’t quite place. 

As you’re zipping up your bag, you hear voices nearby, just around the corner. Leila and Jessica, their conversation low but unmistakable. You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their voices makes you pause, your heart suddenly beating a little faster.

"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."

Oh.

Jessica sounds tired, almost defeated. "What do you mean?"

Leila sighs, a dark amusement in her tone. "Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was all a bet."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move, can’t think. The room spins around you, the ground shifting beneath your feet.

No. No, this can’t be real.

Leila’s voice continues, completely unaware of the devastation she’s causing. "It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was just some sick game."

Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tightening as panic floods your system.

Before you know it, you’re running—out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words. Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, for some kind of escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.

The ache in your chest doesn’t fade as you bolt from the locker room, tears hot on your cheeks. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, struggling to catch your breath. Rage and heartbreak twist inside you like a knife, and before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.

You push through the doors without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears. The gym is full of movement—squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, and the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills. But all of it fades into the background as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.

He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that intense focus you’ve always admired. For a moment, you hesitate, that familiar warmth of seeing him almost enough to make you stop. But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you like a wave, and the anger surges back, drowning out everything else.

You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, their eyes widening in surprise, but you don’t care. You’re beyond caring. The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.

"Cameron!" you shout, your voice sharp, cutting through the noise of the practice.

He turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players stop, confusion rippling through the group. You always call him by his name.

The coach starts to say something, but you barely hear him. All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you. 

Now, all you see is a liar.

“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his brow furrowing.

You don’t answer immediately, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to hold yourself together.

But it’s impossible.

“Was I a bet?”

His expression changes from confusion to something closer to horror, his mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing comes out. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief and pain, seems to have stunned him into silence.

For a moment, you just stare at each other. You want him to deny it, to laugh and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding. But deep down, you already know the truth. You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that flicker of guilt, that flash of something wildly desperate.

He reaches for you, his voice breaking. "Baby, wait, let me explain—”

“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic energy that you can’t control. You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body screaming to get away from him, to escape the unbearable weight of the truth.

His eyes are pleading, searching yours for something, anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing. No words, no excuses that can make this hurt any less.

“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He flinches at your words, pain flashing across his face, but you can’t stop. It’s like all the anger, all the heartbreak, all the humiliation you’ve been choking down is pouring out of you in a torrent, and you don’t have the strength to hold it back. You can see the panic rising in him, the desperation as he realizes just how badly he’s messed up. He takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out, but you jerk away, 

“We’re done.”

“Please, just listen,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

“No.”

And with that, you leave. 

Rafe’s voice echoes behind you as you walk away, but you refuse to look back. The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

The locker room is cold and empty when you push open the door. The scent of body spray and sweat lingers in the air. You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. But before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.

“Go away,” you say, your voice barely holding steady.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice strained with desperation. “Not like this.”

You spin around, your eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to decide that. You used me! And for what? Some sick joke with your friends?”

He takes a step closer, his hands raised as if to placate you, but you back away, your heart pounding. “I know I messed up,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “You let me believe that you cared about me, that everything was real, and all the while it was just a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, his voice cracking. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.” 

Rafe looks at you, his expression torn between guilt and desperation. 

“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”

For a moment, you see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more. But it's not enough.

“I don’t even know who you are."

You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him, your back pressing against the cold metal of the locker.

“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”

Rafe takes another step closer, “Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Just give me a chance to make this right.”

"You don’t get to have a chance. You don’t get to pretend this is some kind of love story. You lied to me. You used me.”

You look at him then, really look at him, and all you see is the boy who broke your heart. The boy who turned your world upside down with a single lie. You know that if you stay, if you let him talk, you might be tempted to forgive him. But you can’t. 

Not this time.

With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice thick with desperation.

But you’ve made up your mind. 

“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you as if he can’t believe what you’re saying.

But then he sees the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, you turn away from him, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. You hesitate for a split second. A small voice inside you screams to turn back, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction. 

The image of Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense, sears itself into your mind. 

The door slams shut behind him, and he leans against it, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious. Instead, there’s a hollowness, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind that asks, “What now?” He clenches his fists, trying to silence it, but the emptiness remains.

This time, he doesn’t follow you. 

[winwintea]

inyun

PAIRING ↬ next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”

SUMMARY ↬ when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 인연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in… thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33

PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver

THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:

"인연"

it means providence or fate. 

but it's specifically about the relationships between people. 

it's an "인연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.

Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.

You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.

“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”

Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Are… are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”

“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”

“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”

“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.

“This is your first day here?”

“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”

Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”

“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.

When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”

Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.

“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.

“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,” you admitted.

“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.

Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have… instant ramen?”

Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”

After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.  

On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon. 

Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on. 

That’s when you spot him.

Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.

“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”

You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”

“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”

You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.

“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”

“Basically. Or… get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like… how many candles do you keep at home?”

“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”

“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months. 

Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.

—

A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.

“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”

“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.  

Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”

That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”

“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”

“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”

“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”

A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.

“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.

Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”

He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”

“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”

You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.

By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.

—

Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.

“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.

You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”

“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”

You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.

“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”

You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”

Later, you text him a picture of your pantry. 

YOU: Your VIP pass is ready 

MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂

The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din. 

You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.

When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.

“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.

Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”

“Like…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”

You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then…” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush…”

Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”

“Yeah.”

“And… hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but… I’ve had the exact same dream.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”

“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”

The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.

“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.

Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 인연—fate, you know? Like… maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”

You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true…” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”

Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense. 

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.

Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.

You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange… and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”

Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”

“Uh... The dog?”

“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.

But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.

“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”

You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”

He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.

“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”

“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”

You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.

—

It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.

You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.

For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city. 

Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 인연.”

You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”

He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But… I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”

Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like… we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”

Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to… I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”

Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So… what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not… then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. 

You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”

The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say. 

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.

“So… if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go… it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.

“Not really. I’m just winging it.”

You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.

As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania

[simp-ly-writes]

Are You Mine?

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.3)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: No matter how hard you try, your body, your mind, heart, and it seems that every other person you meet all agree on one thing, you and Jayce.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, light angst, fluff, touch as a love language, jealous! and protective!Jayce (no seriously), HIGHLY suggestive themes, kissing, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,026

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: I'm just obsessed with these two... and I hope you guys are as well ;)

─────── · ·

─ · · Pulling your white lab coat over your dress and zipping up your boots, you locked your door and made your way to the laboratory- excited to take your mind away from silk and ties to formulas and equations.

─ · · You smiled softly, greeting everyone in the halls as they each waved and said their "good afternoons!" You were always shocked by the kindness of everyone and their ability to recognize you even when you did everything in your power to stay tucked away where you were comfortable (yet Jayce always had a secret power of teasing you out and into the public's eye)

─ · · But just as you were to step into the elevator and swipe your card, a dozen voices called out to you, an older student guide running after them, their parents staggering behind as your shoulders tensed before you turned around. "Miss (name)! Miss (name)!," they all begged and cheered once seeing your face. You smiled softly, "Good afternoon everyone" you greeted as they all came running, wide eyes and smiles.

It was a new potential batch of scholars that were visiting the school for the afternoon, you shook your head forgetting what day it was today as you shook each of their hands, their guide, a younger peer of yours in the biology wing winced, apologizing. "Miss (name) is a very important and highly influential public figure that you all appear to know... and they are also on a strict schedule-"

"Can we just ask a few questions?" "yes, can we please?" the students beg and you see some of the parents begging as well as the guide who looks over to you with equal pleading eyes. You sigh, "Only a couple, I have a meeting with the Councillor soon," you explain as they ooh and ahh. You tuck your books close to your chest, trying to hide the shaking in your hands.

"Whats it like working with Councillor Talis?" you giggle at the question, shaking your head, letting your hair cover your face. "I have worked with the Councillor for nearly a decade now and I can say that he is a brilliant man that puts the care of others before himself, and I am here to make sure someone is there to ensure he can work in prime condition." The student thanks you, taking a step back as a another steps forwards.

"I really love your dress, where did you get it?" you look up with a small smile watching as the student hangs on to your every word, "A friend made it or well got it made for me on my work-anniversary," you explain.

"Whats your favourite part of your job?" You hmm, thinking or your answer as you shuffle the books in your arm. "I really enjoy being able to listen to Councillor Talis's and Mr. Viktor's ideas and plans as they work them out piece by piece- getting a touch of their genius is nothing short of pure magic." They take a step back as you look at your watch, one more question...

"Mrs. Talis, I must say that-" you can hear a few of the students gasp and giggle as you go bright red and stare at your shoes before clearing your throat, "I'm afraid I'm not his mother, that is a special role for Miss. Ximena, Leader of House of Talis," you explain as the parent apologizes, going to pick up your hand yet you take a step away, picking up your head, "I'm afraid I must take my leave, please, enjoy the rest of your tour." You swiftly stand back inside the elevator, watching as the doors close in front of your face yet catching parts of the leftover conversation.

"I mean I thought that they were together?"

"Dad you're so embarrassing! Ugh, just because a pretty and smart lady is beside a man does not mean that they're together!"

"Well, son, every time I see that man looking at that woman like she hung all the stars in his sky..." This has to stop, you told yourself.

─────── · ·

─ · · You were surprised to see just Viktor in the laboratory today, but you were overwhelmingly thankful for it as you took your safety equipment from off the rack and walked over to stand behind Viktor who was currently holding a piece of chalk to his chin in contemplation

"I'm not one to miss others, but a morning without your coffee was nothing short of a funeral," you snorted, "Aww, I didn't know you would miss me so much Viktor. I promise to stay with you every moment of the day," you tease to hear a scoff.

"Please don't. I don't need another earful from Jayce," your eyebrows shoot up as you pour and mix Viktor's coffee before handing it to him and pick up a piece of chalk, silently fixing a missing digit as he curses underneath his breath. "Jayce already came in?" you question, taking a look at your watch again.

"Yes, just left with Mel," you hum, tapping your foot as you look over the final answer before moving up the latter and fix another portion. "Thats it?" Viktor comments, taking a sip of his coffee, doing his best to hide his pleased reaction as you look over your shoulder before sliding with the latter over to the other side. "Whats it?" you retort.

"I mean, you and Jayce are the same entity... I was surprised to... not have you this morning," Viktor explains, sitting down to rest his leg, watching as you work and fix his diagram. "No, that was correct," he comments- "Its a .5" you say back before sharing rolled-eyes.

"If you want to say you missed me, Viktor in your own little ways, it's okay, I already understood the first message and I have missed you too," you don't turn around while speaking, drawing the hexcore from memory at this point.

"That was not my, 'message,'" Viktor says in a monotone voice, "I was saying that Mels presence... is to be a one time occurrence, yes?" You laugh, stepping down before rolling your chair over to sit beside Viktor, opening up one of your journals with last weeks trial information. "I didn't know you to be so outspokenly political, Viktor," you tease- not quite touching again on what Viktor was trying to say.

His brow furrows, sharp lines coating over his features in annoyance. "And here I thought you to be smart-" you lightly slap his arm, "Viktor!"

"What I'm trying to say is that I much prefer having you and Jayce." You let the words linger in the room and swim in your head before speaking up, "Well, you would be of the few wanting that, not even myself," you stand, passing the papers over before heading back towards the doors. "I will be back to write down the final findings of today, do remember to eat the lunch I placed in the fridge," Viktor nods waiting for the door to be closed before sighing, Jayce, Jayce, Jayce.

─────── · ·

─ · · You knock before entering Jayce's office, confused as to why you do not see him there. You take a minute, sitting in front of his desk, waiting and watching as the minutes tick over... Now that you think about it, you didn't see him since leaving him in the hallway that night...

─ · · You check the library, check the lab again to see Viktor stumble awake and act like he was working the whole time, you roll your eyes, yelling at him to eat before closing the door again. You even walk towards the councillor room, nobody bats an eyelash watching you go around into these spaces as you scurry your way out of another empty room.

─ · · The day was almost nearing finished now and you needed to go over what Jayce would be doing and showing for his years Progress Day. And with little locations left, you took off towards the House of Talis in search of the Man of Progress

─ · · The guard smiled at you, a white glove welcoming you inside as you cleaned off the bottom of your boots and walked down the hall. You smile remebering the first time you came into this home when you first started working for Jayce. How it was just his mother to fill the space, you were thankful that Jayce had hired people to help her around the home- provide her company as you and Jayce had become more and more busy.

─ · · "Councillor Talis?" you called out, listening to how your words echoed in the empty space before being received by not the Talis you were looking for but Ximena.

"Hello dear," she greets you, arms wrapping you up into a hug as she pressing a kiss on to your cheek. You flush, mouth opening and closing before squeezing out a small "hello" back to her chuckle.

"As timid as the first time, I did hope that Jayce would get you to come out of your shell more. Please, our home is your home, be comfortable, would you like some tea or coffee maybe?" Mrs. Talis asks, still holding your hand as she leads you into a sitting room. Tall windows invite the setting sun to flood the space in warmth.

Now that you are sitting, you can truly take in the whole feeling of the plush furnishings and various pictures of a younger Jayce upon the walls. You smile at the woman before you, "A tea would be wonderful, can I help-"

"No! no- you do enough already, dear. Please, allow me," you feel immensely bad, a noble woman pouring your own tea? You could feel your own mother rolling in her grave- screaming at you. Picking at the small jewellery you wear you jump as a cup is being presented in front of your face.

"Now, tell me. How is my boy Jayce doing?" She asks with hopeful eyes looking into your own. You tilt your head, hand brushing behind your neck that causes the woman to smile even larger, "Umm, I was hoping that you would know where your son is actually. I have spent the day looking for him," you explain. Her smile drops and all you can feel is guilt.

"I'm sure he's okay! I mean I've watched him train-" you think back to him shirtless, panting, sweat dripping down his forehead as he looks at you, "a-and he can defend himself! he always has staff and the guard around to help and-" you start to rattle off answers before becoming shushed by the wave of a hand as you fold your hands in your lap. "I must tell that boy off, you poor thing, you shouldn't have to be running after him," she shakes her head, apologizing to you instead as she calls a staff member over, whispering something into their ear as they both stare at you and the staff leaves.

"I must say, dear. You looked stunning in that gown last night, I loved seeing all the pictures of you and Jayce together," you place on a tight smile nodding your head along to her words as you sweat, remembering how you ripped into her "dear Jayce" last night. Now that you think about it... you hope the collar to your shirt is high enough from last night, shit, so thats what people have been staring at... Somehow Ximena Talis catches your thoughts as she laughs, "It's alright dear," your cheeks warm, "I'm thankful that my son has chosen someone like you," she clarifies and you feel sick, "someone of clear morals, intelligent and kind. The true definition of beauty."

But before you can explain that you and her son were not in fact together, the doors open once more and a stoic Jayce Talis is accompanied by Mel. You and her share a nod and smile to one another, you feel Jayce's stare as you stand and bow your head slightly. "Good evening, Councillors," you greet.

"None of that now, (name)," Jayce shuns you, walking over and pressing a kiss to his mothers hand. He then moves to you, leaning down, your heart pounding in anticipation yet he stops, standing back upright and clearing his throat as Mel walks back to his side. "There was something that needed to be discussed?" Jayce asks, taking a seat as Mel sits on the arm of his chair, I remember doing that in his office- you close your eyes, no, not anymore. Professionals- remember, professionals...

"Yes, Councillor Ta-" Jayce glares- hard at you, daring you to continue your words. "Jayce," you correct yourself with squinted eyes as he nods, leaning away from Mel to focus on you entirely. You watch as his mother leans back, smiling behind her teacup. "I needed to talk with you about your Progress Day preparations and what Viktor and I found from todays tests."

Jayce stares at you for a moment, taking in the small exchange you and Mel shared earlier before he connects two and two together for what happened at the party. But just as he connects that answer, he is left with a dozen new ones. Why push me away now? Why shy away? Do you not understand how much you mean to me? Can't you see this is so much more than just "work"? Why don't you love me? Why... don't you... why? Is it me? Am I the problem? What do I need to do, to change, to get you to see me?

"Mel and I have Progress Day handled already, sweetheart, (name). Now what did you two find?" His smile appears forced, his hands fidgeting as his eyes tip down, watching at how you play with the rings on your fingers. Its like watching two computers talk to one another, Mel cringes, starting to feel out of place as she stands and sits down on another chair, watching you both with curious eyes.

─ · · Jayce looked pained his muscles flexing to keep him sitting in place. His eyes were wide, head nodding along to your every word- transfixed. It was like you had casted some sort of magical spell over the man- desperate to touch even an essence of you. Mel watched as you stuttered once seeing his stare on you, watched your adorable fidgeting and animated explanations, you truly came out of your shell taking about what you were confident in, she was beginning to understand Jayce's words when speaking about you.

"She can explain anything, can find just the right words or know want I need without even looking. Sometimes I swear she even knows I'm thinking about her and when our eyes meet, I feel sick in the best way. She is the perfect woman and I want to... meet whoever get's lucky enough to be with her..."

─ · · Mel, blinks, bringing herself back to the present. "I-I, or well, Viktor and I found that by positions the runes at .5 of a degree southwards inline with the sun results in more power coming from the vessel... we did a small test on one of your hammers, its force is nothing short of incredible,-" you lose yourself, taking a mile a minute as you open up your books and show, it starts to feel just like old times again as Jayce almost falls out of his chair to look more closely at your drawings, nodding along as he flips back and forth between designs.

─────── · ·

─ · · Ximena Talis's small smile is now a full born smirk as she tips her head over to Mel, "they really are perfect for one another, are they not?" she says. Mel does not reply right away, you both were just... working and yet Jayce was so animatic and attentive with you. Pulling your hand from picking at your skin, flipping the page for you as you rattled off statistics before he was not even speaking fluent English, only numbers that you jotted down with ease and precision; keeping up with his every thought.

That once stoic Jayce that she entered the room with was nowhere to be found as he looked just about ready to fall into your lap and have you pet his hair. "They work well together," Mel answers. Not looking at the raised chin she received. "Hm," Zimena scoffs, "I knew she was the one the first time I met her. Jayce refused to orbit anywhere without her in reach. At first I was scared to see my boy jump to confidence so quickly, to put himself out there, but when we sat and had dinner together. I could see why he was pushing himself so hard- it was for her. Always for her even if he chooses to say else wise." Mel looks at Jayce's mother as they both exchange a silent conversation... she never had a chance.

─────── · ·

─ · · You both are breathless, now sitting on the same couch after your discoveries. Jayce looks down at you, at your exposed neck before his heart hammers and burns in his chest like stakes through his heart. He keeps uncovering answers tonight and now he wants them to stop appearing.

You catch his look, moving your hair and not meeting his furrowed brows. You watch a fist form in his lap his hand grip the couch from behind your head. He leans in, uncaring, or well... too caring, as usual as you turn away, exposing the markings again. "I want you to listen to my speech this weekend before the event," Jayce says, a statement rather than a question. You think back on your already planned weekend plans yet all you can see his Jayce's honey eyes staring into your own, drinking you in and leaving you breathless, How could you refuse?

You nod, watching as he smirks before offering a hand, holding it, his thumb rolling over your knuckles in an effort to soothe himself more than you it seems and leads you out towards the door.

But before you can put on your coat and leave, he pulls your arm back, pressing your back against the wood door and your chests together. Your eyes go wide, a small gasp leaving your lips that his eyes flicker down to. He brings a hand up to circle your cheek before resting his forehead against your own, "A night without you, your words, your touch... helped me to remember how much I need you-"

"You have me, Jayce," you say albeit a little breathless and overwhelmed. You pray that Mel and his mother don't come after you both soon, or maybe you did, you didn't know what to think honestly while being enveloped in with warmth.

"No, I," he sighs, "I know that but," Jayce appears frustrated, brining a fist up beside your head before he steps back, gripping his hair. You extend you head, touching his shoulder gently feeling him take breaths. You stand up on your toes, pulling his chin down to look at you, "Jayce, hey, you can tell me anything you know that right? I'm your assistant, I am meant to help you with anything-"

"Help me?" Jayce asks softly, you nod, eyes welling with concern. You hadn't seen him this way not since Viktor had been getting more and more ill... "I need you to kiss me."

You blink, the words not quite reaching your ears as he places his head on your shoulder. "what?" you ask, looking back at the doors you exited form, still closed. "I need you to kiss me."

"Jayce!" you whisper shout, his hair tickling your neck as he grabs your hips, a part of you missing the feeling of his large hands on your body. "Are you alright?" you ask, starting to feel his head for any bumps and body for any bruises. He groans from your touch.

"No. I'm not since you don't understand," his grips tightens as you whimper, "you are mine. You are everything to me. I don't care what anyone else says or thinks, I only think- feel you. I cannot function without having you close, I need to hold you, to-to touch you to even have a chance speaking properly and you ground me more than anyone else could, more than I would allow anyone else to."

You shake in his arms, gripping his shoulders, his words shocking you to your core. "Jayce-I" he can already hear the hesitation in your voice. "Whats holding you, holding us back?" he asks, looking at you again, you know you cannot lie.

"I'm you assistant, Jayce-I-I-" Jayce lets you go and all you can feel is cold without his touch. You cross your arms, shivering in your coat.

"You're fired then, what else I need to do to make you want me, make you need me," Jayce says, you gasp, Jayce is completely serious, his strong arms crossing over his own chest as he stares you down, "and before you go saying you have a boyfriend, I know it was a one-night stand." You roll your eyes at him- wrong choice.

Jayce pulls you outside once hearing the room stir from behind you both. You feel as though it is that night in the hallway again as he walks through the streets, the cool night air kissing your skin as Jayce pulls you away and back to his apartment. "J-Jayce! You're not acting like yourself, please," you beg for what you don't know yet he does nothing to reply not until you both are inside then and suddenly, his mouth is on yours and you can't help but lose the feeling in your legs and fold into his touch.

Jayce grabs your neck, pressing his lips harder against your own as his tongue parts your lips, deepening the kiss. You pull at his jacket, forgetting yourself, forgetting the setting in this moment before pulling away- gasping for air before Jayce is pulling you back in for another, not giving you time to think. His lips paint over every mark and indent in your skin as if trying to make you forget.

Your breath gets cut off for a second as he licks at your collarbone, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, "Jayce," you moan out his name as he growls kissing you, swallowing your words. You grip at the material of his shirt, pulling him closer to you, you can feel him smile against your skin before leaving a series of lingering kisses up your neck and behind your ear in which he playfully bites.

Jayce's voice is deep, his words short as he whispers them only for you to hear, "I love you." You freeze taking in your first deep breath, your eyes fully open to look into his own, you can see just how scared he is in this moment yet so ready to lose it all just for the chance of being with you. Your heart hammers you can feel his own pounding against your clothes that feel way too hot in this moment.

"I love you too, Jayce," you say, he kisses your cheek. "Say it again," he commands, picking you up by the back of your things. You wrap them around his waist, squealing as your back hits a plush bed. You look up, watching as Jayce removes his shirt. Your lips parted, hair spread out like a Halo behind your head, your legs still parted to leave space for him as he leans down on his forearms, encaging your head.

"I-I love you," you say again, this time a bit more timid than he likes. He rolls his hips into your own as you cry, "Say it again."

"I love you!" you say with a bit more confidence, nails reaching up to feel the muscles of his back. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your nose, "I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: don't ask I don't know what came over me to write this last section LMAO. So... part 4 anyone, part 4 LOL jk jk... (unless?) 👀

─ · · TAGLIST: @sseleniaa

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ Scarred For Half A Life ~

DP Phan Fic.

[“You want to see a danger? You should see me in a crown.”]

So uh—this is a scene I have in mind for my story. Because of the song, yes!

I mean, I already wrote it down, to add later on into the story! And I was really enthusiastic about it, so I drew Danny with a crown. An ugly crown (because it’s made out of paper). [sketch lurking at the bottom]

If you want you can read and follow it! But—BEWARE!

———————

Genre: Angst / Hurt And Comfort (and a little Horror)

AU — OOC

Trigger Warning: Emotional Distress — Violence — Graphic Content

Rating: M

———————

Summary:

Danny had been captured by the GiW once again, or so he thinks. Leaving him feeling utterly helpless—vulnerable. There was nothing he could do. What will happen to him? And why again? (Summary might change as the story goes on)

———————

So, this is a piece of that potential chapter:

“Wait! Don’t move. I want to take a picture!” Jazz exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

Danny groaned, rolling his eyes. “Seriously? A picture? What are you, my dad?”

Jazz ignored his protest, already angling the camera toward him. “Come on, Danny, it’s your birthday. Let me have this.”

He sighed, slouching slightly. “Fine, but make it quick. And don’t expect me to smile like an idiot.”

Jazz smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re already an idiot. The crown just completes the look.”

Danny couldn’t help the small grin tugging at his lips as she snapped the photo, capturing him sitting there with the gold paper crown tilted slightly on his head, a mixture of amusement and irritation in his glowing green eyes.

“There,” Jazz said triumphantly, glancing at the picture on her phone. “Perfect. I’m definitely keeping this one.”

———————

And a piece of the scene with the song in my head that plays in the background:

“Phantom,” she said icily, her voice like a blade. “You’re not my son. You’re a danger. I was merciful letting you stay this long.”

That was it. That was the final crack that shattered the fragile restraint Danny had been holding onto. His aura flared violently, glowing with an intense, cold light that filled the room, making the shadows dance erratically on the walls.

“You wanna see a danger?” Danny growled, his voice dropping into something almost inhuman, vibrating with power as his feet lifted off the ground. His white hair swirled beneath the gold paper crown, caught in an invisible wind as the room seemed to grow colder by the second.

Danny’s arms hung by his sides, his fists clenching tightly. A brilliant green energy began to materialize, steam curling off his fingers like fire, licking up his forearms in tendrils of raw power.

“You should see me in a crown.”

A burst of cold ectoplasmic energy erupted from Danny’s palms, shooting straight toward Maddie with icy precision. She dove to the side, flipping the table over in one swift motion to shield herself. Plates shattered, the pancakes splattered across the walls, and the dining room filled with a deafening roar of energy.

———————

As for my own commentary about my DP drawing…

I hate drawing hands, and I don’t like to draw shoes. Maybe because I just can’t!! I’m not good at drawing mouths either, or I was just having a bad day at drawing. And we are definitely not going to talk about the nose. I have zero idea what went wrong with coloring/painting, and I couldn’t fix it at that moment. Maybe I was hurrying it, don’t care. I wanted it out of my head! And I really wanted to share this, because I like it for once, something of my own. As for the style, still searching my own, trying things out, so at the moment, I have no idea what I’m doing. Might redo it later.

[chrissturnsfav]

𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐂𝐓

when you go to a party with the triplets and a few other friends, you decide to try to make toxic!chris jealous—but he fixes up your act real quick.

ᰔᩚ bf!chris, toxic!chris, use of alcohol, dom!chris, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), hair-pulling, degrading, angst, use of pet names, use of y/n, orgasm denial, dirty talk, slight dacryphilia

ᰔᩚ w.c. 2,667

the mansion is booming with house music. sweaty bodies in the full house shift past each other and the stench of alcohol along with a hint of weed is hanging in the air.

you got to the party about a half hour ago and chris was already pissing you off. he wasn't paying attention to you at all, just giving in to the countless girls that were up his ass.

you knew he did it on purpose—he does this every time you guys go out together—but it still made your blood boil every time.

you are stood in the kitchen, a red solo cup filled with vodka and cranberry juice held up to your lips as you pretend to listen to your best friend—brooke—babble on about drama.

"y/n, are you even listening?" brooke groans after taking a long swig from her own cup.

you sigh, shaking your head, "i'm sorry brooke, i just fucking can't with chris."

brooke rolls her eyes, not wanting to hear about chris again since it was all you talked about. you were always telling her and the other girls about a new argument every single day. "what did he do now?" she asks blankly.

you point towards the living room—which was an open floor to the kitchen—giving you and brooke a perfect view of the people in there. your finger points at chris who is sat on the couch, some girl sat on his lap twirling her hair around her finger with a flirty smile to which chris returned.

brooke's lips part and she scoffs, shaking her head and taking another sip from her cup, "i can't believe you allow this kid to do this to you."

you sigh, nodding, "i know..." you let out. you knew this isn't the way a good boyfriend treats his girlfriend, but you just couldn't leave him.

"y'know, if i were you, i'd grab a random guy and start dancing with him or something," brooke says with a cheeky giggle.

you turn your head to brooke, looking at her as if she's crazy, "brooke, he'd murder me. i can't even look at another guy without him saying something..."

brooke laughs sarcastically, "fuck that, he does it to you, i'd do it right back. c'mon, let's find you a sexy man," she says, grabbing your arm tightly.

you squirm, unsure about her idea, "brooke, i really don't think—"

"bitch, let's go," she cuts you off, pulling you through the crowd of people in the kitchen to the foyer while you groan the whole way there.

brooke is gazing around the room looking for an option, when she sees nick. "nick!" she calls out.

nick turns his head from the group of people he's talking to. he flashes a smile when he sees you two, muttering a word to the people before walking over. "hey guys."

brooke smiles at him, "we need to find y/n someone to dance with to make chris jealous, have you seen any options?"

nick laughs loudly, "why, what is he doing?"

you explain the scene in the living room to nick and he rolls his eyes, groaning. "i always tell him he needs to start treating you good, but the player in him just won't fucking die."

you nod, rolling your eyes, "i don't think it ever will," you say, taking a swig of your drink.

"okay, anyways, any potential men for her, nick?" brooke cuts in.

nick nods and looks around the room, "i saw a really hot guy a few minutes ago, let me see where he is..." he says as he continues to look around.

nick gasps, pointing to a tall young man with black hair, a tattoo up his arm, dressed in a black t-shirt, black jeans, and lots of silver jewelry, "THERE!" he yells out loud, causing you and brooke to laugh loudly.

"nick! you can't just scream 'there' and then point at someone!" you pull nick's finger away as he uses his other hand to cover his mouth while laughing.

brooke—laughing as well—nods at the man, "he's perfect, y/n go do something, please. you need this."

you feel your heart beating faster and you sigh, taking a long swig of your drink, "i'm gonna need to take a few shots first..."

nick and brooke smile in unison, cheering, "oh, i'm so down," brooke says with excitement, nick agreeing.

you, brooke, and nick have taken about 3 shots together. by now, you're definitely feeling the alcohol and you truly want to go through with this plan.

you see chris in the living room again, but now he's in the crowd of people dancing. he's dancing with a different girl from before. she has her back against his chest—his arms rest on her hips and a red solo cup is in his hand as they sway to the beat. the girl has her arm reached around to play with chris' hair as he whispers god knows what in her ear.

seeing this is making you want to literally stomp over there and beat the girl's face in, but you remember the plan brooke thought up, not wanting to ruin it and ultimately choosing this is a much better idea.

nick and brooke stand a few feet away from the young man you had picked out from the crowd, watching you confidently strut towards him.

you run your fingers through your hair, lips parted. the young man—who is standing in a group of people in the living room—notices you walk past their group. when you both make eye contact as you pass him, you give him a flirty smirk before walking in a made up direction.

before you know it, you feel a tap on your shoulder and you smirk in victory. you turn around to see the gorgeous man you had chosen as your victim.

he stares down at you intently, a smirk plastered on his face as he takes a sip from his cup. "what's your name?"

you smirk back at him, "why?" you slur suggestively.

he chuckles, "fuck that, you wanna dance?" he asks confidently.

you purse your lips flirtatiously, not at all surprised by his cockiness and you nod with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

he licks his lips, nodding and taking your hand softly to lead you to the makeshift dance floor.

luckily, he picks a spot only a few feet away from where chris is dancing with the random whore.

you place your back against the man’s chest, his hands finding your waist as you lean your head to the side below his neck. you can feel his breath on your ear as you sway your hips against him to the beat.

it was only a matter of time before chris noticed, and you couldn't stop sneaking glances at him across the dance floor.

at your third glance, chris makes eye contact with you. you watch his jaw immediately clench and jealousy fills his eyes.

you smirk at him sassily from across the room, turning your body away and the man you're dancing with turns your bodies. you embrace the man, his hands resting lowly on your hips and you stare at chris with cocky eyes over his shoulder.

you watch chris roll his tongue on the inside of his cheek and a scary smirk plays on his lips. suddenly, his hands on the girl's hips fall. she looks confused, calling out to him, but chris ignores her and storms over to you and the man you're dancing with.

when you turn your head to see chris standing beside the both of you, fists clenched together and an insanely jealous expression, you can't help but chuckle a little. "can i help you?"

your voice catches the man by surprise, turning his head to see chris and he furrows his brows in confusion.

chris chuckles at your question, slightly scaring you. his eyes dart from the man to you, and you can't help but worry about what he's about to do.

chris scoffs, ultimately deciding to just possessively grab you by the arm and off the man's body—his eyes never leaving his. you shriek, caught off guard by his actions and spilling some of your drink on the white dress you wore, "chris, what the fuck?!" you groan, immediately patting down your dress with your hands.

chris glances at the mess on the material that hugged your body before looking at the man in front of him who seems very confused as he opens his mouth to speak, "what the hell, man?"

chris just chuckles in response, "touch her again and i'll kill ya," he slurs slightly, anger in his voice. the man just looks at chris dumbfounded and he doesn't even get the chance to respond because chris is now pulling you out of the living room by your arm down a hallway.

"chris! get the fuck off me!" you continuously shout, but chris ignores you and instead pulls you both into an empty bathroom, locking the door.

you stare down at your dress, wiping the stains with your hands but it doesn't seem to do anything.

chris leans against the sink, crossing his arms as he stares you up and down, licking his lips, "you think that shit's funny?"

you look up at him when he speaks, furrowing your brows in disbelief. "chris, i'm not doing this with you."

chris laughs, shaking his head and walking towards you until your back hits the door. he places his hands on the door on either side of your head, leaning his forehead centimeters away from your face. you feel your breath hitch in your throat as his minty breath breezes against your face.

"hm? think it's funny to fuck around like that and be a little whore?" he asks in a voice almost a whisper.

you swallow hard, but try to remain confident, "don't even chris, you love to have whores all over you and never talk to me when we go out, but when i even speak to another man it's a problem."

chris smirks manically, rolling his tongue across his bottom row of teeth, "i dunno where this whole acts comin' from, mama, but it's pissin' me off."

you roll your eyes and stare at him, "what are you gonna do about it?" you slur drunkenly.

chris' smirk only grows and his eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, "gonna fix it for ya," he says wickedly. you feel your heart go to your toes, already feeling yourself getting wet at his words.

chris wastes no time in smashing his lips against yours, his hands possessively moving to your hips, slamming you against the door and you moan softly in response. he takes this as an opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth dominantly.

you give in, kissing him back as his tongue soon wins the fight for dominance and he smirks against your lips before pulling away. he turns your body around, bending you over the sink and biting his lip as he stares at you in the mirror.

you stare at him with lust, your swollen lips parted and eyes full of desire to which he chuckles at, licking his lips, "this what you need, hm?" he asks, pulling your dress over your hips as his pants tighten at the sight of your round ass.

you swallow, nodding hesitantly in response. chris laughs wickedly as he unzips his jeans, pulling your thong to the side, "yeah? need your attitude fucked out of ya?"

you watch him in the mirror, blinking slowly in response and he slaps your ass when you don't respond, making you flinch.

he leans his body over yours, his mouth inches from your ear, "say it ma, need to hear ya say it."

you whimper quietly, sighing, "need...need your dick, chris," you slur.

chris nods, smirking in response, "good, cause if you wanna act like a fuckin' whore, i'm gonna treat you like one."

chris leans his body back, pulling his jeans and boxers down just enough to pull his swelled cock out. he wastes no time slamming into you hard, and you gasp loudly at this while he grunts deeply.

chris picks up a fast, hard pace within seconds. you pant, moaning and crying out loudly. your brows are knit together, mouth hanging open, and hands gripping the counter until your knuckles turn white at the overwhelming pleasure.

chris is grunting from behind you, the occasional chuckle leaving his mouth, "yeaaah, fuckin' take it you slut," he growls, slapping your ass as his other hand pulls your hips against him in a rhythm with his own.

your head falls against the counter as you moan loudly, but chris chuckles deeply, yanking your head up by your hair tightly, "nah, gotta watch yourself get fucked like the little slut you are, ma," he tuts. you whine in response, forcing your eyes to stay open as you watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.

you feel tears stinging your eyes as chris pounds impossibly harder into your aching heat as you cry out in overstimulation, "chris!"

chris laughs at you, only gripping your hips with his one hand tighter, "so pretty when you're cryin' f'me."

a tear streams down your face as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach forming and you yelp loudly, "i-i....i'm...g-gonna..."

chris bites his bottom lip and smirks evilly at you through the mirror, "uh-uh. you're gonna hold it f'me, think you can just dance on some random guy?" he chuckles dryly, "fuck atta here w'that shit."

you shriek in overstimulation, your mascara smudging beneath your eyes as your legs quiver, "i-i...chris! i can't!"

chris leans his over your body, slapping your ass as you feel him panting against your ear, "yeah? beg for it then."

you pant breathlessly, your vision blurry from the pleasure and tears, "p-please...please—fuck—chris....i need to cum!"

"tell me how sorry ya are, mama," chris says through grunts.

"i...’m sorry...’m sorry...please..." you beg desperately. chris chuckles at your pathetic tone, leaning away from your ear and snapping his hips harder, "fuckin' pussy so tight...all mine, right, ma? who's fuckin' pussy is this, hm?" he groans.

you whine loudly, feeling your whole body go sore as you give everything you can to not let go right now, "y-y....yours! i-it's all yours, chris! fuck, please...please i gotta cum!"

chris licks his lips through a mischievous smirk, nodding, "yeah, thas right...all mine."

you feel your orgasm uncontrollably about to burst and you cry loudly, "chris! please—shiiit—please!"

chris nods, pleased with your begging as he lets out deep, short breaths as his own orgasm approaches, "yeah, bein' so good, takin’ it so well...cum for me ma, cum all over this cock."

your body immediately lets go, your cum coating chris' dick and he moans in response to the sight of you. you moan loudly, legs uncontrollably shaking as your eyes pinch shut.

"mmm...fuuuck, ma...gonna cum...i'm cummin' for you..." he groans, his thrusts getting sloppier as he helps you come down from your high, watching you in the mirror.

"fuck," chris moans, pulling out and sprawling out his load on your ass. his eyes roll back at the pleasure, groaning.

he looks at you through the mirror and chuckles at your state. your hair is all messed up, lashes sticky, mascara run down your face.

after he cleans you up, he pulls your panties back on you properly and pulls your dress back down, snaking an arm around your waist to stand you up straight.

as you look at yourself in the mirror—still trying to catch your breath—chris pulls his boxers and jeans on while glancing at you, "fix y'self, jesus, look like you just got fucked stupid," he jokes and you roll your eyes, raking your fingers through your hair.

chris rests his hands on the counter, leaning forward while he looks at you in the mirror.

"cleaned up your act, real quick, didn't i? told you i would."

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: i actually really like this but it's a LITTLE graphic and rough but like i love rough LMAO. also this is not good but i low-key love toxic men...

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™