#this is meant with the best of intentions

[purinfelix]

clumsy ⭑.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: being a mechanic is a tough enough job - but with a driver like franco who can be oh so distracting, sometimes it feels impossible w/c: 1.1k

a/n: woops this was meant to just be a blurb but i fear my franco fics can never be short ....

The chaos of the garage never failed to get your adrenaline pumping and this race weekend was certainly no exception. Ever since becoming a mechanic, you prided yourself on being able to enjoy the thrill of every grand prix up close, without actually ever having to step foot in the car. The only payoff was spending almost the entire race on edge, constantly nervous about when the next pit stop would be and whether you'd be ready - but it was a price you were more than willing to pay.

Intently, you watched one of the several large screens in the garage, chewing your bottom lip nervously. Tapping your foot restlessly you watched the cars go into another lap, keeping your eye on the two royal blue cars that belonged to your team. As they neared the garage you heard the familiar sound of them zipping past, and couldn't help but smile softly to yourself.

"Franco pitting next lap!" Your moment of peace was disrupted as the garage erupted into action, people shouting orders from every direction.

"Get him some hards, we're doing a tyre swap," an engineer next to you hissed with urgency, and your body moved instinctually to do as he said.

You can feel the familiar sensation of your heart beating out of your chest, that thrill that you love so much about your job - but also the immense pressure you feel. It helps a little, being part of a bigger team, but still the responsibility you feel is sometimes overwhelming. You crouch in position, at the front right wheel, gripping onto the tyre through your gloves - waiting.

Soon you hear the whirring noise signalling your next job is here, and sure enough you turn to spot Franco's bright blue car speeding in. Around you the team hurries, yelling out instructions and concerns but through your nerves you can barely hear them.

Before you realise it, he's right in front of you and for some reason his visor is flipped up far enough that you can see his eyes. You're caught off guard by how strangely charming he looks with his cheeks squished up like that - but the minute he winks at you, everything else falls silent. Everything else apart from your heart, which is speeding up even faster than you've ever felt it go before. You feel your cheeks flush quickly as your grip on the tyre in front of you loosens.

A muffled voice screams urgently from above you, bringing you back to reality slowly.

"What?" is all you can let out.

"The tyre! Put on the goddamn tyre!"

"Oh shit." You huff under your breath, finally regaining control of your senses and showing the tyre to the car in front of you. You watch as he speeds off, listening to the groans of the other mechanics around you. Normally your blood would be running cold after such a devastating mistake, but right now there's only one thing on your mind - the amused smile you saw in Franco's eyes as he drove off.

"What the hell was that? You just cost us like three seconds!" You turn to one of your superiors, whose face is contorted in disappointment. All you can do is begin rattling off sorrowful apologies and try your best to come up with a reason for your mistake that isn't three seconds of eye contact with your team's new charming driver.

Ultimately, the three seconds didn't seem to cost you too much - both of your drivers managed to score within points range for the day. Whilst the rest of the garage was busy rushing out to celebrate this fact, you simply lingered, relieved that your mistake would hopefully be forgotten, at least for now.

"Sorry for earlier, you hear a smooth voice from behind you as you're slipping off your gloves - causing you to jump. Spinning around you're once again met with Franco's green eyes, only now you're granted the benefit of the rest of his face too.

"Right, and what exactly are you apologising for?"

"Isn't it obvious? The whole tyre mishap."

"A little bold of you to assume that it had anything to do with you," you huff defensively, beginning to change your mind about wanting to be alone in the garage and beginning the walk out to the paddock.

"Well," he's following after you and as he comes up beside you, you catch a glimpse of the playful smile toying at his lips, "wasn't it because of me?"

"If that's what you want to believe, then sure, whatever floats your ego bud."

"To think a trained mechanic like you could make such a mistake," you feel your hands curl up into balls at the teasing drawl in his voice, "all because of a little eye contact from little ol' me?"

"Right, eye contact, a wink and a smirk."

"Aha!" His sudden jump in volume causes you to stop in your tracks and spin to face him. "So it was my fault after all."

You sigh, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at being caught out so easily. "Whatever," you mumble, resuming your walk out of the garage.

"Really, I'm flattered," he continues in a dramatic tone, "I didn't think my charms had such a strong effect!"

"Hey watch who you're talking to, remember at the end of the day who's responsible for making sure you can even drive out there." Despite your threatening words, the confident expression on his face doesn't falter even as he lets out a soft chuckle of amusement - which you try not to let get to you, but god it's like the music of angels.

"I really am sorry," he insists, "I didn't mean to make you do that, truly."

"Alright, glad we got that out of the way."

Before you can leave though, you feel him suddenly close the gap between the two of you - his breath hot in your ear. "I guess it just means the flirting will have to stay off-track though, hm?" His voice is like honey, and a lot deeper than the playful tone he was using before.

It stops you right in your tracks, urging your heartbeat higher than it's been all day. As you stand there, desperately searching for a witty quip back or even just words to fill the silence, he just leans back with a smile. He tilts his head, as if signalling for you to follow him, as if urging you to act like he didn't do what he just did, before walking casually out of the garage.

As you finally managed to unstick your feet from their place you reluctantly followed suit - and whilst you were grateful that your earlier mistake had been forgiven, now you were worried about the entirely new challenge you had granted yourself for the upcoming weeks.

taglist: (reply/send me an ask if you'd like to be added! <3)

@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk

[queenk00k]

cupid's lead arrows // rafe cameron

Requested by anon

Request: Hi girl I love your writing 🫶🏻 Can you write about Rafe, who has been Reader’s best friend forever, but secretly has a crush on her? One day, Reader confesses that she’s dating someone, and Rafe does everything he can to break them up.

Summary: You finally get a boyfriend but something, or someone, seems intent on keeping you apart.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: This is literally all angst sorry

Note: My first Outer Banks fic in over 4 years lol please be kind! I got a little carried away...this lends itself to a part 2, if anyone likes it.

It’s not always a walk in the park when you’re Rafe Cameron’s best friend.

You’ve been inseparable since the first day of high school when you got paired together for a semester long project. Study sessions in the library (well, you would study, and Rafe would flirt with the cute library monitor) turned into after school hangouts at Tannyhill, which turned into hosting parties and heading to college together.

Did you ever have a crush on your best friend? Well fuck, have you seen him?

Not only is he gorgeous but you got to experience a whole different side of Rafe that not everyone got to see, the sweet side – loyal, caring, and pretty soft behind the scenes.

You spent years pining after Rafe, silently and stoically of course, never wanting to ruin your friendship by letting him know how you felt. You figured it was for the best and besides, you had lived through enough of Rafe’s girlfriends to know you weren’t ever going to be his type.

You’ve seen each other’s highest highs and lowest lows which, unfortunately for you both, Rafe seemed to have more than his fair share of. Much to the disappointment of your parents and the shock of your friends, you stuck by Rafe’s side through his drug addiction and his drinking problems and were there to pick up the pieces after his father died. Rafe, in turn, had your back when you had blow up fights with your mother and comforted you when you had problems with your friends.

Now, two years out of college and with Rafe mostly sober, you didn’t think there was anything you two couldn’t handle, nothing you couldn’t face together, nothing that could ever come between you.

Until you started dating Parker.

Rafe seemed happy for you when you first told him, hugging you and telling you he was proud of you for “finally getting some.” He was nice to Parker (by Rafe’s standards, which really meant not going out of his way to intimidate the guy) when you brought him to the beach and introduced them.

But as the weeks went by, you noticed a subtle shift in Rafe’s behaviour. You kept telling yourself you were being paranoid, that there’s no way Rafe could have an issue with Parker. He told you he was happy for you, right? And unlike the last potential boyfriends, Rafe didn’t try to scare him off.

But something was off.

You noticed Rafe was falling back into old habits that scared you. He was drinking more, often double parked at parties, and either loud and belligerent or sulking on his own in a corner.

And then then the incidents began. At first you just thought it was shit luck, but then it just started to feel like the universe was conspiring against you and Parker.

Turns out Rafe was conspiring against you and Parker.

It started when Parker seemingly ghosted you on one of your Friday night dates, leaving you alone and upset at the wharf before Rafe picked you up. Parker swore he had car issues, both his front tires punctured, and you figured that was a reasonable excuse.

Then the night of the annual bonfire, a harmless game of ‘never have I ever’ turned sour when Rafe and Topper kept coming up with the most oddly specific scenarios. Each of them left Parker putting down his fingers, looking sheepishly over at you as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment before you got up and left the circle, Rafe raising a beer bottle to his lips as he watched you intently. He followed after you that night and you melted into his arms, naïvely assuming your best friend was comforting you without an ulterior motive.

And now the worst of all – Topper had cornered you as you were leaving the driving range to ask if you knew Parker was spending time with his ex, and you finally snapped.

“Where did you hear this, Topper? Who told you?”

And because Topper was, above all, really just spineless, you got the answer out of him straight away.

Rafe. At the scene of the crime, three times in a row. What a fucking coincidence.

So, you decided you’d had enough of this bullshit, of Rafe playing games with your relationship, and you drove over to his house, marched up to his front door and banged on it with your fist until he finally opened up.

“Y/N!” he said, looking genuinely excited to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to lose your shit just yet, not to get angry until you actually knew the truth.

“Do you like Parker? Do you want me to be with him?”

Rafe blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell me the truth,” you cut in. “I want to hear you say it.”

Rafe stepped over the threshold and gently closed the door behind him, clearing his throat before he answered.

“No. I don’t, and I want you to break up with him,” he said, folding his arms.

You huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Right, well, that’s not going to happen. Thanks a lot,” you say, willing yourself not to cry as you turn around and walk away from your best friend.

“Y/N, please come back. I have my reasons!” Rafe raises his voice as he calls out to you.

“Why do you care so much? Is this some fake chivalrous ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ bullshit? Just leave me alone, Rafe.” You say as you clamber down the front steps and start walking to your car.

“Because I love you, alright?!” Rafe shouts after you.

You stop, the righteous anger you were feeling only moments before threatening to dissipate into the humid night air. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning around to face your best friend.

Rafe’s breathing heavily, running his hand over his head as if to erase what he just said.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his ring glinting in the moonlight as he chews on his thumb, looking pleadingly at you, willing you to say something, anything. The silence between you feels heavy as your mind races. He’s said it before of course, but it’s usually in jest, or after you help him with something. This feels different, and you know better than to assume it’s not.

“Rafe,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing?” You watch him warily as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“I love you. I’m serious. More than best friends, more than anything we’ve been in the past. I love you and I…I can’t stand to see you with someone else. I can’t let it happen.”

“You have no right-”

“He’s not a good guy, y/n!” Rafe raises his voice again, making you flinch slightly. You scoff at his words, throwing him an incredulous glare.

“Like you can talk, Rafe. I know you – more than anyone else. You’re not exactly in a position to be telling me who’s good for me or not,” you snap.

Rafe huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not perfect, fine, but I know you and I know you shouldn’t be with Parker. That’s why I-” Rafe stops abruptly, his mouth twisting.

You step closer to him, closing the gap between you. “That’s why you what, Rafe?” Your heart pounds and you’re sure you’re about to have your suspicions confirmed. When Rafe stands there, dumbstruck and silent, you answer for him.

“You’re the one who started that rumour about Parker and his ex, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s silence tells you everything you need to know. You shake your head, not quite believing that your best friend would try and sabotage your relationship like this.

“And the bonfire? That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You got some dirt on Parker and wanted me to know about it.”

Rafe winced. “Well, Topper helped with that one. But seriously, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to protect you!”

You hold your hand up. “Stop. Just stop. How could you do this? Why would you try and break us up like this, just because you’re jealous? Why can’t you just let me be happy? Not to mention, you’ve been hurting me, Rafe! You’re not just hurting Parker; you’re destroying me in the process.”

You’re crying now, feeling betrayed. You had barely noticed but it had started to rain, the droplets mixing with your tears to run mascara down your cheeks. Rafe has the audacity to look concerned and regretful, to move as if to hug you and you shake his arm off before jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You had your chance! For years! Just because you’ve finally fucking woken up doesn’t mean you get to ruin my happiness. And now this bullshit about Parker’s family? That’s low, even for you,” you spit, the brief warmth you felt when Rafe told you he loved you now completely cold.

Rafe shook his head. “No, no, you don’t get it! That’s all true! They’re shady fucking people and God, that’s coming from a Cameron. You can’t get caught up in their mess,” he pleads.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to believe you now! Why should I?” you yell before spinning on your heel and stalking down the driveway to your car, being careful to not slip on the pavement.

“Y/N, wait!” Rafe calls and he catches up to you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist with his large hand. His white button-down shirt was almost transparent now and the rain was running in rivers off his nose as he looked down at you.

“Please,” he begs. “Come inside. Let me explain. I love you, y/n, please,” Rafe looks desperate, and you almost pity him before you snap back to reality and remember why you’re so angry.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” you snarl, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “And if you follow me Rafe, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.”

With that, you yank open your car door and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.

“FUCK!”

As you pull away, you can hear Rafe yelling your name.

You don’t even look in the rearview mirror as you turn out of his street, tires squealing.

[hellion-child]

i hate that the longer i think on it, the more i cant help but wonder if we're sposed to be in this will-they-wont-they position where the show wants us to be uncertain but hopeful if bucktommy will get back together, before they maybe bring tommy back later on. and the reason we feel so shitty and final about it all is bcos of a group of toxic fans and a couple of vindictive fucking ppl w (biased) interviews have to twist the knife idk idk

i havent seen the substance movie but theres that scene where demi moore is putting on makeup and furiously wiping it off to reapply it again and wipe it off again, over and over an dthats me w my clown makeup and this fucking show *jack twist voice* i wish i knew how to quit u

[yourlocalcorviddad]

What he means: I know the feeling of the weight of loss. I grew up watching and hoping and emulating someone who had no love for me. I did my best to be the perfect son, struggled against my morals and values, went against everything my mother taught me, only to be betrayed and thrown away when it finally reached a point I couldn't stand. I knew his intentions for me, knew but wasn't ready to face it, still not ready, before I even called the challenge. I didn't expect to live, didn't expect to wake up on that boat. But I did and I doubled down even though I knew. You didn't bring war, I did despite hating it, despite knowing it was a lost cause, a futile effort at gaining love from a man who would've sold me for a cabbage leaf if it meant he'd have it when others didn't. I'm sorry you lost her due to my stupidity and I'm sorry I can't express that in a way that makes sense.

What he says: That's rough buddy

what he means: my first girlfriend sacrificed herself for the good of her people, and she didn't think twice about it. i saw firsthand what it meant to truly protect those you love, and in that moment i also experienced what it meant to be loved enough to be protected. but i wasn't ready. i didn't have enough time to say goodbye. she was gone before she fell back to me, and i knew it even before i looked for a pulse that wasn't there. she was heavy, until she wasn't, because i saw death happen in a way i never thought it could when her body vanished from my arms. i now know what it feels like to kiss a spirit, and it's the last touch i have of her. she sacrificed herself because she believed it was her duty, an expectation she felt she needed to face, and it should never have happened. but she got dragged into a war that we brought to her home. there was nothing i could do to protect her from its devastation, and i blame myself for her death.

what he says: my first girlfriend turned into the moon

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

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

word count - 11.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•

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

Next part - Chapter 8 xx

[madlori]

What I keep coming back to is: we've seen this breakup before with them.

This is the Miceli's breakup. Exactly. It's the same motivation. They had Tommy say the exact same words as he left.

That has to be intentional.

But is it intentional for which of these reasons?

The first time, Buck reached out and fixed it, and they got back together, but this time, it's too much and it can't be fixed.

Buck reached out and fixed it the first time, and he will do the same thing again, someday.

I would feel pretty good about option 2 except for that one fucking word: "Buck."

The first breakup, Tommy said "I'll see you around." This time, he said "I'll see you around, BUCK." We all know that's significant, but I couldn't tell you in what way it's significant. I fear that it's significant in that it's meant to indicate the finality of it, and that this time...there is no fixing it.

But having written the same breakup for two characters twice when it worked out the first time is such an irresistible setup for a reunion, and we know what suckers these writers are for an irresistible setup.

Because narratively? There is NOTHING that supports a permanent breakup as the best outcome here. NOTHING.

You don't find it, you make it. "Hurdles to overcome." Having to decide if the relationship is worth fighting for. Making it through when you're at your worst. EVERYTHING in this show's buildup of Buck's character, and the storyline, makes you think they will work through this.

But I just don't know if the writers are following the same narrative threads as we are.

[wolvietxt]

𝓒LOSER 𝓣HAN 𝓑EFORE !

pairing : daryl dixon x female!reader warnings : implied age gap, crybaby!reader, he’s a bit ooc, overprotective rick wc : 2.1k a/n : i’m seriously debating writing for carol i want her so bad also can u tell i’m in love with rick

it had been a week since the group returned from their last supply run. as usual, you'd found a quiet spot in the prison, back against the cold concrete wall, a pencil in hand, and your notebook resting on your knees. with each sketch, you could lose yourself in the lines and shapes, letting the chaos of the outside world fall away.

daryl had seen you tucked away like this more times than he could count. he often found himself stealing glances in your direction when he thought you weren’t looking, the way you focused intently on your drawings. there was something calming about it, a slice of peace in a world that had long since forgotten the meaning of the word. he liked that you managed to create beauty in such a bleak place, and it stirred something warm inside him.

as he gathered supplies for the next run, he couldn’t help but feel a pull toward you, the way a moth is drawn to a flame. but even as that warmth spread through him, a thread of hesitation tugged at his heart. he didn't know how to approach you without sounding awkward or making things weird. you were sunshine to him, and he feared his often grumpy demeanour would cast a shadow over your light. but he was trying, to be kinder, especially around you. the group made it easy, at this point, rick was almost like a brother to him, and carol a best friend. to his eventual dismay, this meant she knew a whole lot about him and could read him like a book.

“hey, daryl,” carol’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. she had a knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made him shift uncomfortably. “you’ve been staring at her again.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “i ain’t staring.”

“sure,” she said with a teasing smirk. “just like you weren’t the one who picked up that flower for her last week.” 

that had been a mistake. you had looked so happy, your smile lighting up the whole room. and damn if that hadn’t made him feel all sorts of things. but now, he just shrugged it off. “she’s a good kid. just… i dunno, wanted to do something nice.”

carol raised an eyebrow, a playful grin on her face. “you’re not fooling anyone, daryl. you care about her.”

“i care about everyone in this group,” he replied a bit too quickly, his tone defensive. 

“sure you do,” she said, walking away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

he watched you again, how you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, completely absorbed in your art. he wanted to be closer to you, to show you how much you meant to him. but the words always stuck in his throat, trapped beneath layers of his own insecurity. he knew he wasn’t good enough for you, but he wanted you like he never had before.

later that day, the group gathered to discuss the next supply run. rick, as usual, was leading the meeting, his face drawn and serious. “we need to get more medical supplies. that last run barely did us any good.”

you were sitting under carol while she toyed with your hair, comfortable inbetween her legs while she was sitting on one of the beds. flipping through your notebook, a page with a half-finished drawing of a sunset catching your eye. you liked how it reminded you of the days before everything fell apart. 

“we’ll need someone to stay back and guard the place,” rick continued, looking around the room. “any volunteers?”

before you could even think, carol spoke up. “i’ll stay. i can help keep watch.” 

“me too,” you chimed in, glancing at daryl, who met your gaze for a brief moment. there was something in his eyes that made your heart race, but you quickly looked away, focusing on the conversation at hand, hoping the heat rising to your cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

“you sure?” rick asked, his voice skeptical. “it’s dangerous out there.”

“we’re capable,” you said firmly. “if something happens, we can handle it.” 

daryl watched the exchange, his brow furrowing as he weighed the risks. he knew you were strong, but he also hated the idea of you being out there alone. he couldn’t shake the need to protect you, but he didn’t want to stifle your independence either. 

“i’ll - i’ll be careful, i swear” you added, sensing the tension in the room, especially from daryl.

after the meeting, the group dispersed, but daryl lingered behind, gathering his gear. he overheard rick talking to carol, their voices low and serious. 

“she’s too inexperienced,” rick said, frustration lacing his words. “what if something happens? we can’t afford to lose anyone.”

rick loved you, he really did, as much as everyone else in the group, but he also had a tendency to worry, especially about you. you weren’t new to the group, you’d been with them since the camp, same time as rick. rick had found you limping down the road, a herd of walkers following not far behind you. he’d scooped you up as quick as he could, and since then, he’d always felt rather overprotective of you. your naivety often put him on edge, his worst nightmare would be you ending up in a bad situation because you were often too trusting of others. you didn’t know what kinda guy he could’ve been when he’d picked you up in the middle of the street, but you didn’t struggle at all. he cared for you like a father.

“she’s tougher than you think, rick,” carol replied. “but she’s also got a soft side. you know that. don’t underestimate her.” 

“it’s not that,” rick snapped. “it’s just… i mean she’s irresponsible, she’s - ” 

you walked past them, catching the tail end of the conversation. your heart sank, unsure of what to make of it. you wanted to prove yourself, but hearing rick’s concerns made you doubt your abilities. you ducked into a hallway, hoping to clear your head.

daryl noticed you walking away, and for a moment, he considered following you. he wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay. but then he thought about the conversation with rick, and fear gripped him. he didn’t want to sound like a worried parent, but you were really important to him. 

he took a deep breath and made his decision. he would go on the run with the others, but he would make sure to bring back something special for you. maybe that would lighten your mood.

as the day wore on, the run took longer than expected. they fought off a few walkers and scrounged around for supplies, but daryl’s mind was elsewhere. he kept thinking about you, how you had looked when rick was questioning your abilities. the way your smile faltered, and your confidence seemed to waver. he hated that rick could make you feel small, even if he didn’t mean to. 

when they finally returned, daryl felt a rush of relief to see you sitting in the same spot, sketching in your notebook. the others were busy unpacking supplies, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. your brow was furrowed in concentration, and it made him want to protect that focus, to shield you from any negativity.

“hey,” he said softly, approaching you cautiously. 

you looked up, surprised, and your face lit up with a smile that made his heart skip. “hey, daryl! how was the run?”

“it was alright,” he replied, his gaze flicking to your notebook. “what’re you working on, sweetheart?”

“just a little something,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “nothing special.”

he leaned over, trying to sneak a peek at your drawing. “looks pretty damn special to me.”

you turned the notebook slightly, revealing a sketch of the prison with a sunset in the background. it was beautiful, full of vibrant colours, and it made his heart swell. “y’re real talented, you know that?”

“thanks, daryl.” you replied, a hint of shyness in your tone. “it’s just a hobby.”

“hobbies are important,” he said, feeling bold. “keeps you sane in this crazy world.”

“what about you?” you asked, curious. “do you have any hobbies?”

he scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “hunting, i guess. and, uh, taking care of my bike.” 

“i’d love to see your bike sometime,” you said, your eyes sparkling with interest.

“yeah?” he said, surprised. “i could show you. it’s not much, but it gets me around.” 

“i’m sure it’s more than that,” you replied, smiling softly. 

“here,” he said, shifting the conversation. “um, i got you something.” he pulled out a worn paperback book from his backpack, the edges frayed but the cover intact. “found it on the run. thought you might like it.”

your eyes widened, and you took the book from him gently. “oh daryl, you didn’t have to…”

“i wanted to,” he said, a hint of shyness in his voice too. “thought you could use a new read.”

you opened the book and gasped, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and joy. “this is one of my favourite authors!”

“really?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “figured you might like it.” 

you hugged the book to your chest, your eyes brimming with tears. “thank you so much!”

“ain’t no big deal,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. “now don’t you go cryin’ on me.”

you laughed through your tears, and he felt his heart swell. “sorry, i can’t help it. ‘s just really thoughtful of you. you always do nice things for me.” you said, giggling through the tears now streaming down your face. you didn’t really know why you were crying, but you hoped daryl didn’t think too much about it.

“i just think you deserve it,” he replied, shrugging but unable to hide his smile. 

“you’re really sweet,” you said, wiping a tear from your cheek. 

“ain’t sweet,” he teased. “you’re just a damn crybaby.” 

you playfully nudged him, and he chuckled, feeling the tension that had built throughout the day start to dissipate. “you really like it?” he asked, wanting to make sure he hadn’t messed up.

“i love it,” you said sincerely. “and it’s just what i needed. i’ve never read this one before. ‘m gonna start reading it tonight.” 

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “maybe we could, uh, read together sometime.”

“i’d love that,” you replied, your smile brightening even more. 

he was struck by the way you looked at him, your eyes shining with genuine happiness. it made him feel brave, like maybe he could push past the awkwardness. “i mean, if you want to.”

“i definitely do,” you said, your voice soft. 

the two of you stood there, the world around you fading as the moment stretched on. daryl felt a surge of affection that he could no longer contain. he stepped closer, the heat radiating off you making him bold. 

“can i?” he asked, his voice low, leaning in slightly. 

you nodded, and without thinking, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours. it was soft and tentative at first, but then you melted into him, deepening the kiss. the warmth spread through him, and he felt like he was finally letting go of everything that had held him back.

when you pulled away, breathless, he couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “damn, you really are a crybaby.”

you giggled, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “maybe just a little.”

“well, if you keep bein’ so sweet, i might just have to keep makin’ you cry,” he teased, unable to hide his grin.

“i wouldn’t mind that,” you said, biting your lip, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “because i ain’t goin’ anywhere. you’re stuck with me.” 

“i wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, feeling a sense of peace settle between you two.

as the night drew closer, the two of you settled into a comfortable rhythm, sharing stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. daryl felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and he knew that no matter what came next, he wanted to face it with you by his side.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[rothpie]

❝INHERITANCE❞|part1

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Marriage of Convenience; JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Summary: The rebellious child of a noble family, the last hope, the one meant to carry on the family name. Your grandfather’s health was failing, and though you were expected to inherit everything, he had pulled away from you completely. Now, there was only one condition for you to receive his inheritance; to get your life in order, stop coming home late at night, give up drinking, and, of course his last wish—a marriage.

Warnings: kind of daddy issues, mentioning losing parent

selly's note: I'm so excited!!! hope you like it💗💗💗

next

Parties had always been intriguing. For some, they were an escape from life; for others, a lifestyle. They were places where you’d run into everyone you knew or didn’t know. You always hoped they’d play good music, and when you walked in, you loved that moment when most eyes turned your way. Feeling their gazes, being the center of attention, being talked about—that was power. You couldn’t live without attention. Sure, everyone enjoys a little of it, but you craved it every moment.

You loved dancing wildly, drinking, and letting loose at parties. It was one of those rare times you’d truly disconnect from everything. Laughing crazily with your friends, getting close with a guy—it thrilled you. It was as if the world were ending and you were going out with a bang. Live fast, die young, right?

You were meant to live each day like it was your last. You were here to enjoy life, and you had no intention of stopping—because you wouldn’t stop. Today could be your last day.

It wasn’t just a behavior; it was a way of life.

And you were in love with it.

The future could wait; you had more important things to do now—like being young.

You loved the label of “party monster.” Even while listening to The Weeknd, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in the scene. You didn’t think you could live without partying—not at this point.

Most people didn’t matter much to you. Usually, you enjoyed drinking and hanging out with people your own age, soaking in the party vibes, watching people cannonball into pools, the beer pong games, seeing everyone try to drink from kegs. You loved being young.

No lie, you loved everything that came with youth—guys, the fun, the parties, sex, the yacht parties…

Even if you didn’t always prefer getting drunk, your body wasn’t exactly used to it. Strong drinks got you tipsy fast. Most times, you ended up having friends drop you off at home, or you’d wake up at some guy’s place you’d hooked up with. It didn’t matter. You never felt ashamed of one-night stands. Sex was just a part of life. And though you didn’t always like sneaking out quietly, you still did it.

Sticking around and getting emotional wasn’t your style. You hated the “What are we now?” question. You’d rather jump off a cliff than hear it.

Sometimes, though, you’d wake up at home, only to face your dad’s and grandfather’s disapproving stares. Most mornings, you’d stumble down to breakfast looking like a mess. Even after washing your face, your mascara and eyeliner would still smudge, the headache hitting hard—you looked fucked, no doubt.

But you were just a young girl who partied.

You might come home late, drink, be out most of the week, and practically treat the house like a hotel, but hey—at least you didn’t do drugs. That was an accomplishment, right?

You were just a girl.

Hanging out at the golf club didn’t interest you. You thought it was ridiculous, even though you were part of the Kook crowd. With so many things to do, golf? Really?

There was only one reason you’d stay out under the sun that long—tanning. Nothing else could keep you baking in the sun. Ever.

Most people at the golf club weren’t there for golf anyway. They’d wear their best outfits, spritz on perfume, do their makeup, and show up just to flaunt themselves. Some were hoping to score a date for the night, others looking for a potential spouse. The place was swarming with people trying to show off their wealth, a live version of a dating app. You hated it.

Waiting in line for a guy? 

You wouldn’t even look at someone who wasn’t interested in you from the start. Your guy had to be loyal. Chasing other women while pursuing you? Eliminated. Eyeing three other girls in the same room as you? Out. Walking alongside you and your best friends on the same beach? All three of you would kick him to the ass.

You never needed it. Your family name was known, and everywhere you went, you stood out. You didn’t need to make yourself known or put in extra effort to catch people’s attention.

You were already valuable. The brightest jewel on the island. The shiniest diamond.

You were noticeable even on the path you walked.

Still, your love life wasn’t exactly successful. You weren’t sure if it was by choice or if the guys on the island were just idiots. Either way, you always knew most of them were after your family name—maybe to get into the company, or for the benefits it would bring to their own families. It was always a letdown.

Looking back, you were grateful. Those experiences taught you something, and you were now certain none of them were worth a second thought. Your exes were terrible. Thank goodness you hadn’t given any of them your virginity.

One had been worse than the others. But at least he was handsome—and muscular, tall… Too bad he’d left the island.

You were never treated as the “heir” they wanted. Before you were even born, they’d wished for a boy. They’d wanted you to be a son. It was insulting. But you just preferred to think of it as saying, 'Too bad, bitches—I’m a girl!'

Thank heavens.

As a kid, you always wanted a sibling. So did your parents, especially a son to carry on the family line. But when your parents plans conflicted with God’s plans, there’s no telling what might happen.

Before you could have a sibling, you lost your mother. She was in the same car as your dad, and he was the only one who survived. When he refused to remarry, you were left as the family’s only grandchild.

No, you weren’t a boy. But you were still the one they had to trust to carry on the family line. You’d take over the company someday; you’d be the boss. They’d always made that clear. They let you be a kid for a while, but the moment you hit adolescence, the serious talks started. Because of the family’s public image, they always expected you to be polite and courteous. You were, of course.

But over time, these expectations became stricter, and as you felt more pressure from your family, your need for freedom grew.

As much as you loved the party life, you’d take over the company one day. That ambition was in you—it was just a matter of time. And until then, you’d live it up.

Who said girls can’t carry on the family name?

You were living proof, like millions of women out there. You had plenty of time before taking over the company, and for now, you were enjoying the moment. Future you could deal with the future. Why would you worry now?

At this age, you and Jada and Aaliyah were way too busy partying.

It had taken days for you all to decide on a birthday dinner over a party, if we’re honest. It was Jada’s 20th. It was a big deal, and you’d discussed a lot of options. But finally, she decided on a quiet celebration with her closest friends instead of a big party.

The reason was simple.

Her family had just bought a new home, and they’d made it clear they wanted no parties for a while. Jada was on board with that anyway. She didn’t want people throwing up on her new couches or couples making out all over her place.

Besides, she realized you could manage with a small, private party of your own.

First, you’d talked about doing it on a yacht, but Jada didn’t want to risk throwing up on a boat after drinking, not to mention the fear of falling overboard while drunk. It was very much something that would happen to her. She couldn’t stay stable on anything that moved.

After a lot of back-and-forth, Aaliyah came up with the idea of a dinner. She told you both to leave the details to her and picked the spot. Jada was thrilled.

She felt like she was getting a surprise party—although she knew it’d be just the three of you and was fully aware of the plan, she still acted clueless. Even on the way there, she acted like she had no idea why or where you were going—as if it wasn’t her birthday.

But neither you nor Aaliyah broke character. You both played along as if you were headed to the yacht. It became a little game between you.

“Girl, I swear—kisses to the chef won’t cut it! I need to go back to the kitchen and fuck him. If a man cooks like this, I owe him at least ten kids,” Aaliyah said, cracking you both up. Thanks to her, you had the best seats with a full view at Figure Eight’s top restaurant—prime Instagram Story material.

As you took a sip of your white wine, Aaliyah cleared her throat. You turned to her, smiling.

“Girl, you’ve lost it. What if the chef is, like, 54?” Aaliyah scrunched her face, and you joined in, pulling a face as Jada raised an eyebrow. She seemed incredulous. She took another bite before saying anything.

“You two are fucking idiot. Hugh Jackman’s 56, and I’d get in his bed in a heartbeat. I’m ready to be his personal whore.”

She had a point. If the chef looked as good as Hugh Jackman in his fifties, maybe he deserved a look, especially considering guys your age were nothing to brag about.

But still—the idea of dating, let alone sleeping with, a guy old enough to be your dad? That made you feel pretty gross. Just thinking about it made you cringe.

It was nasty.

Unless, of course, it was Hugh Jackman. For him, you'd practically sign up to be his broodmare.

After Jada threw out her little example, the silence stretched, and she looked at both of you with a smug grin. She’d laid down her final word. Period.

Spending time with these girls? Honestly, the best.

Aaliyah, right beside you, let out a dramatic sigh, catching your and Jada’s attention. When she put her hand to her mouth and dropped her fork, the two of you exchanged puzzled, worried glances. Was something wrong? But just as you started to feel real concern, Aaliyah moved her hand and started talking. “I cannot believe I forgot to tell you!”

For a moment, you were seriously worried about her, but quickly you realized that what she’d forgotten was merely a juicy piece of gossip. Which, for the three of you, was life-or-death level serious. If it wasn’t something major, there’s no way she’d be reacting like this. You dropped your fork, grabbing your wine glass as you turned to her. Jada followed suit, shaking her head with a hint of annoyance. “Girl, you’d better mean this in a good way, or I’m throwing you over the railing. You just freaked us out.”

Aaliyah tucked her hair behind her ears, her face breaking into a huge grin. She knew she was holding gold. This might just be the gossip of the year.

After clearing her throat, she looked at the two of you with sparkling eyes. “First off, I heard this from my mom. The whole island doesn’t know yet, but soon enough, everyone will. So we’re like, one of the first. Do you realize how big this is?” Aaliyah took a deep breath, savoring your expectant stares. She was clearly pleased at how primed you both were.

If she held back any longer, you were about to discover telepathy.

“You guys know the Rodolp's, right? They have a son our age, Harry. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph has been coming home later and later, and eventually it came out—he’s cheating on Mrs. Rodolph.” Gossip-wise, you were unimpressed. Who cared about middle-aged infidelity? Cheating on your wife of forty years was just... gross.

“I can see it on your faces. Hold on. Apparently, the person he’s seeing is someone our age.” Now that was interesting.

You turned fully to her, a mischievous grin growing on your face. “Girl, you’d better give us more. I’m dying of suspense here.” Jada nodded in agreement, pointing to you as she puckered her lips. “Right on the money, babe.”

“Do you remember our last year? That term when we mostly had classes together? Biology class, with Liliana. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph is fooling around with Liliana from biology. And it gets even worse—Liliana and Harry are dating. The guy is cheating on both his wife and his son, with his son’s girlfriend.”

Aaliyah was a fucking queen.

You and Jada were on the verge of screaming. If you’d been at home, you two would’ve been shrieking your heads off, but since you were in a restaurant, you both had to clench your teeth to avoid an outburst. This scandal was going to be the talk of the town for months, and thank heavens it had come your way first.

“Damn… Double homicide.”

Leaning back with pride, Aaliyah pointed to herself, clearly reveling in her role. She looked like she’d just swept every major award.

Best Gossip in the Game.

That award was hers. She deserved it.

After that, things settled down a bit. You went back to eating as Aaliyah filled you in on the divorce proceedings, how Harry was firmly on his mom’s side, and any other spicy detail she had on the Rodolph's situation. Jada blew out her birthday candle, and you handed over your gifts—she was thrilled. With a designer bag in one hand and a diamond necklace around her neck, she struggled not to scream from excitement, kissing each of you about a thousand times.

The rest of the evening felt like the perfect girl’s night. You laughed, gossiped, had a blast—until the food was gone and the alcohol intake was way too high.

No one expected to get that drunk. You were pretty sure Aaliyah had promised to only have a little, yet you were positive she had polished off a bottle herself. Jada? She didn’t even pretend; she kept saying it was her birthday and she was entitled to it. She wasn’t wrong.

At one point, Jada even contemplated going into the kitchen to hunt down the chef. She nearly got up but couldn’t decide if she should carry her new bag or stick with her regular one. She added something about 22 or 52 looking no different in her eyes.

And you? Every moment with these girls was priceless. You were making new memories to look back on, imagining them as your kids’ honorary aunts, and then as their kids’ aunts too. Best friends for life.

None of you stopped drinking. You egged each other on, shot after shot, until you lost count.

At the end of the night—you were all completely hammered.

How you got home, who paid the bill, who drove? No clue. You opened your eyes the next morning in your own bed, with a throbbing headache. You felt as if you hadn’t had water in forty-eight hours, and your stomach was burning. You wanted to just lay down on the cool floor. Hangovers like this were the worst.

Sitting up, you reached for your phone. The group chat was lighting up with notifications. When you opened it, you saw that Jada and Aaliyah were already awake, talking about just how far things had gone last night. Jada was still going on about the chef. You’d really gone too far.

It was supposed to be a normal dinner, celebrating Jada’s 20th birthday. A night to hug each other, share some love, then go home—naturally, you’d gone way beyond that.

After reading about Aaliyah getting scolded by her mom, you set your phone back on the bed, unable to deal with more notifications with your throbbing head. You’d text them back later. As much as you loved the wild nights, you hated the mornings after.

To snap yourself out of it, you headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. You were sure you reeked of alcohol, which you absolutely despised. Smelling bad was practically the worst thing you could think of. You had to smell good, always. The shower didn’t take long, and after you got out, you brushed your teeth and went back to your room. You wrinkled your nose at the lingering smell of alcohol.

You opened the windows, threw on some casual workout clothes, and as you brushed your hair, you couldn’t help but think how much you loved being a girl. The self-care, the hair products, all the creams… how do guys even go without this stuff?

What the fuck do they even talk about? How do they survive missing out on all this?

You couldn’t. It was baffling.

Once you were done, you left your hair damp and headed out of your room.

As you were about to enter the living room, three men in suits caught your eye as they exited. Instead of finding your dad and grandfather seated as usual, you noticed your father standing by the window, gazing out over the view, while your grandfather was settled in an armchair, tapping a pen rapidly.

"Good morning," you said, hesitating slightly. Things were always tense in these situations—you were used to it. They didn’t approve of your lifestyle. They might even consider it… unbecoming. And you got it to an extent, but the tension was draining. You’d always hated it.

“More like good afternoon, dear.” Your grandfather’s voice was gentle, but you sensed the sarcasm. He wasn't pleased. Classic.

Just as you were about to respond, you saw your dad turn away from the window. He rubbed his face with his hands, his eyes settling on you with a look so intense it ignited a spark of dread in your gut.

What the fuck was going on?

“Would you like to sit down?” Your grandfather’s voice broke the gaze you held with your dad. You immediately took the seat across from him, catching a hint of a smile on his face. Yet it wasn’t warm. It was an unsettling grin, one that made you feel… uneasy.

You did not like this. Not a bit.

Your dad moved to stand between you and your grandfather, arms crossed. But now he wasn’t even looking at you.

“You never understood.” Your grandfather’s voice cut through, and your brow furrowed. You hated this strained atmosphere. You wanted to get up and leave. But you knew you wouldn’t.

"I’ve tried to help you understand; your father has tried. You’re twenty years old. What are you even living for?”

Okay, now you were officially starting to worry. Your grandfather’s tone, the whole approach—he seemed to be trying to soften the blow. And that, somehow, was even worse. Right now, you hated everything about this.

“You used to be a kid with straight As, despite those odd habits of yours. You didn’t want to go to college; we let it slide. You carry yourself with a confidence that can only come from knowing you’ll always be cushioned. No lie, it’s true.” His smirk widened as he placed the pen down on the coffee table and leaned back.

You’d rarely felt fear in your life. With your father and grandfather behind you, the family name erased any need to be afraid. Your last name was its own protection.

You’d always known that whatever happened, you’d come out fine. That’s why you’d never been scared.

But now? Now your body was nearly trembling. This wasn’t like the usual lecture about your carelessness, or how thoughtless you could be. It was always that same song and dance. But today, they’d taken it somewhere new.

You couldn’t help but be scared.

“So we expected, at the very least, that you’d learn from your mistakes. But it’s clear that’s not happening. You need something to wake you up—a push. And we’ve found one. Until you prove yourself, you won’t receive even a single percent of your inheritance.”

What?

Did he just—did he really just say you were cut off?

As if you didn’t carry the family name? As if you weren’t his grandchild? There was no one else in line for this inheritance. If he left it to your dad, it would still go to you eventually.

So, just because you were young, he was really taking away your rights? This was your birthright! What you did—it wasn’t some rebellion, wasn’t meant as a statement. You didn’t act this way because—

This was your birthright…

Your grandfather started coughing suddenly, his frail body rattling with each hack. Your father moved quickly to his side, and you got up as well. But he raised his hand to stop you both. A helper came to wheel him out of the room, his chair squeaking slightly on the floor. Watching him leave, you replayed his words in your mind, trying to make sense of it.

It was impossible. This was your birthright! How could he just strip it from you?

“You’ve gone too far,” your dad spoke, fixing you with a look that felt like a fireball about to explode. You wanted to lash out, to yell, to demand that this decision be taken back. But the words didn’t come.

“You came home last night like a disaster. Do you know how hard I had to fight to keep him from cutting off your credit cards?” He shook his head, his voice rough. “You’re going to fix this. You’re going to restore your image in his eyes, because right now, you are anything but the girl he wants you to be.” Your hands went to your wet hair, squeezing in frustration. You wished this was all a nightmare, that you were still sleeping.

“What do you want from me, Dad? Should I become some kind of church girl?” Your voice had risen without you realizing it, and you quickly quieted down. You hated feeling cornered, hated this situation, hated everyone—everything.

And those credit cards… if they were cut off, there’d be nothing left for you. And now, losing your future inheritance entirely? It was catastrophic. It wasn’t like you wanted your grandfather dead; you loved him, outdated as he was. But this felt so unfair… You hated every bit of it.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes!” Your dad’s voice snapped you back to reality, his tone so firm it reminded you of being ten years old, on the verge of crying because you hadn’t gotten your way. “Your grandfather is ready to leave the money to the government, do you understand? No—look at me. Let this sink in. Money, property, the company—everything. Fix this. He got married at twenty. It’s practically a miracle he hasn’t lost his mind with you staying out all night, bringing home God knows who. You’re going to fix this, understand?”

You found yourself nodding automatically.

The way he was using this inheritance as a punishment was disgusting. Leaving it all to the government—now that was a nightmare. You did not want that.

“Can’t you… Can’t you change his mind?” you asked, voice low. Your father gave you a look like you’d just spoken in a foreign language. He took a few quick steps forward, disbelief on his face. He was furious that you still seemed unwilling to accept this reality.

“Do I look like I haven’t tried?” His voice was hard, his expression angry. He was holding back to avoid drawing attention. Neither of you wanted this conversation getting back to your grandfather. “If you want the money, you’re going to stop spending your nights out like some fool. Yes, actually, a church girl wouldn’t be a bad idea. Hell, maybe even get married if you need to, I don’t know! Just make him happy! I’m not the one causing this mess!”

Your hands pressed against your head as you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of it all. You tried to think. Even if you did all of this, how did you know your grandfather would ever change his mind? Maybe he’d never truly approve…

When you opened your eyes to speak, you found an empty room.

Of course—your dad had left.

[haru-dipthong]

Ep 11 of my Utena fansub is out (sorry for the wait!)

だめだめ。そんな味気ないお昼じゃ、つまんないでしょ？

No, no. Don't eat that, it's just packaged junk.

This line when literally translated is actually closer to “a tasteless lunch like that is boring, don’t you think?”. However, つまらない is more versatile than the English “boring”, and it can also kind of mean “not very good”. Plus, I can’t imagine a middle schooler like Wakaba saying “tasteless”. I tried rephrasing the whole line in a way that would make sense being spoken by a kid who’s trying hard to be an adult.

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基本はレトルトだけどフォルムが超プリティーでしょ？

It's mostly pre-made ingredients, but doesn't it look super pretty?

This line took me AGES to hear correctly. I had to write it down as I heard it to make out all the words, and even then I still had no idea what レトルト (retoruto) meant.

Crazy! I’ve used and seen these in Japanese grocery stores my whole life and never known they had a proper name.

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俺なら君をここから出さないな。永遠に。

If it were up to me, I’d keep you here… for eternity.

If it weren’t for the pause, I think I might have translated this line as “If it were up to me, I’d never let you out of here.” However, I think I like that I was forced to work around the pause, because it made me think about how I could end the sentence with “eternity” while still phrasing it in a natural way. The Japanese version of the line works as a complete sentence without the last word addition, which I kind of wanted to keep in the translation (cause then the ETERNITY has more of a gut punch), but I think I did the best I could given the constraints.

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そうだ。僕が姫宮を守らなければ。僕なら姫宮を普通の女の子に戻すことができるんだ。他のやつに渡すわけいけない。たとえ、僕の王子様であろうと。

That's it. I have to protect her. I'm the only one who can help her get back to normal. I won't let anyone else take her. Not even my own prince.

I think it’s important with these lines to start to show how Utena’s well-intentioned chivalry is warping into something that resembles the attitudes of the student council. Here Utena is showing that they can be possessive like Saionji, self-important like Miki, and ruthless like Juri.

I love this, and Akio’s round up of the duels in the next episode makes me think about it more - I think that Revolutionary Girl Utena is all about competing 世界観 (views of the world). I like the duels as a metaphor for philosophical debates. In this episode, the negative influences of the other duelists’ worldviews on Utena’s naive and righteous view of the world starts to really show. I think that the text intentionally shows this change right before Utena’s first loss to signify that this change is a weakening, a corruption, and that their previous worldview was “better” (for lack of a better word).

This is a bit of a tangent but I also think that the times when Utena is led down paths of heteronormativity and normative forms of gender are when they are shown to be weakest in-universe. This episode is a perfect example. Utena commits to two normative ideas - 1. being heteronormatively enamoured with Touga, and 2. the idea that Anthy, a feminine girl, can’t do anything herself and needs a masculine hand to help her and protect her.

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Thanks as always to @dontbe-lasanya for their editing!

Follow the blog if you'd like to keep updated with new releases! All previous episodes are here:

[ultfreakme]

Is it that Caitlyn changed, or the fact that Caitlyn didn't change at all as she promised Vi that led to this?

Caitlyn's current dip into fascism stems from her inherent biases against Zaunites. she's been showing it since season one. Her desire to protect people is very much there, but she said it best, Zaunites are animals. Why must she protect them?

Cait never did any real work to dismantle her beliefs about the undercity and its people. Loving Vi just meant she imposed Piltover standards upon her. Vi is the exception, Vi isn't like those people. She tried to integrate Vi into the Piltover upper echelons. But that's not how it works.

Vi's intentions with the question was to preserve the last stable and nice thing in her life under the assumption that Cait doesn't need to change to love her. It's clear Vi has a boatload of insecurities about dating Cait and sees Cait as better than her, higher than her. She doesn't enter Cait's home and ducks away from Cait's dad, she doesn't approach Cait during the funeral until Cait approaches her first for comfort. Even Vi's justifications for being an Enforcer feel hollow especially when she couldn't fight Jinx. Vi thinks herself to be lower, and Cait does very little to dissuade this from her. Fuck I don't think either of them even notice they're doing this, it's that deeply entrenched into their upbringing.

Cait didn't change in season 1, and now she sinks deeper into the preset biases.

[compressedrage]

Okay I can't not talk about this anymore– I've got a headcanon/canon-compliant au/interpretation of the Life Series events (as I'm sure many of us do) and the most recent season is working so well I just have to talk about it somewhere

sticking it under a cut, bc I just know im gonna go off and make a long post :P

(I haven't been in this fandom very long, so this is probably not very original, but I don't care! I'm having fun! anyway–)

The Life Series is a time loop. And Grian is the one who's keeping it going.

It was just meant to be a fun game, but then the Watchers found him. They warped Grian's game into their own twisted tournament, with the intent to take the winner as their champion.

They're about to take Grian again, when he reaches out with the power he'd kept locked away, and he resets the world.

Every time the bloodshed stops and the Watchers are about to reap their champion, Grian wrenches them back into the void and forces a world reset.

Except... with every reset, the world cracks a bit more. First, it was the boogey man. Is it the Watchers trying to push their influence on the players? Or is it something else? Grian isn't sure.

It goes until Secret Life. And then Grian is absolutely sure, because the world has shifted enough for the Watchers to slip their claws into it. They've gotten impatient. They want their champion. Grian tries, but there is only so much he can do with the weight of the tasks on his back. His own power is beginning to slip through too– he even manages to bring Jimmy back for a time, even if it's only a ghostly projection.

And then it's over. Grian is dead, drifting in the void.

(I have a scene in my head where he speaks with Mumbo while waiting for the end of the session. he basically tells Mumbo that he's been doing this and he doesn't know how to stop it, because he has to save them all)

And then Scar wins. And it nearly breaks him. Grian hovers over him, prepared to grab him and reset the world, when the Watchers yank Grian back into the void. It's a harsh, eldritch conflict in the void, and it's all Grian can do to hold onto his sanity, and throw his friends into the next loop.

But in it all, he momentarily forgets Scar. Still in the previous loop. He goes back to get him, but it's been an entire year for Scar. He's weary, and barely registers that Grian is real.

This new loop is the most broken yet. But Grian is still holding it all together as best he can. If it weren't for him, every weird aspect of this world would descend on his friends all at once and they would instantly die and Grian would lose track and then he would lose them–

So he holds things back, trying to keep things straight and monitor how his friends are doing. But he's starting to slip.

Mumbo knows what he's doing, and it doesn't sit right with him.

Scar is a victor. And his lonely year has given him plenty of time to regain lost memories.

Ren doesn't quite understand everything, but he knows Grian knows way more than he should.

Grian's not going to be able to hold it all together for much longer.

[newbatmanfan19]

Heyyyy so this is a draft of a draft of a chapter for a fic I’m writing. I did my best to make it work as a one-shot but some context for those who want it: It’s an AU focused on Helena Bertinelli. In this fic, she is the biological child of Bruce and Selina, but was given up for adoption by Selina, Bruce does not know about this kid (in Selina’s defense, she didn’t know where he was at the time.) Helena’s adopted father is not particularly fond of her so he sent her away to Saint Mary’s School for Troubled Girls, which turned out to be doing dealings with the Joker. Joker knows who Helena is (people talk in Gotham) so he kidnapped her and told her who her bio-parents were. She was eventually rescued by Batman and Robin!Jason and returned home… only to be sent to Healing Trails Academy six months later. Soooo Helena burns the place down and takes a little girl named Christina with her… hopefully you see my vision for this.

Christina is basically an OC but technically very loosely based on the Italian reporter featured in the Huntress comics. Helena is also basically an OC in terms of personality but I try to infuse as many canon elements as possible. That being said, I am going for accuracy in my portrayal of the rest of the characters (well, fanon accuracy for some, selective canon accuracy for others) I’d love some feedback/constructive criticism or even just general suggestions if anyones interested! This is my first batfam fic and I have spent almost two years getting to know these characters to prepare to write this but there are so many characters to learn :=[

CW: mentions of child abuse (I think that’s all)

…

Meeting Catwoman

Helena hadn’t meant to go following in her biological mothers footsteps quite so closely, but when the need arose, she wasn’t sure what else to do. If it had just been her, maybe she could get by on petty thievery and her wits, but it wasn’t just her. She had Christina to provide for and try to raise, even if Helena was only three years her senior. At only thirteen, it wasn’t like she could go out and get a job. No one Helena thought was worth working for would give one to her. She wasn’t particularly fond of having to resort to crime, but at least she was working for herself and not some skeezy crime lord.

It started simple, nabbing a wallet off an unsuspecting business man or snatching whatever was sticking out of a senile old lady’s grocery bags. Helena quickly found she had inherited her mothers talent for pick-pocketing, and she couldn’t deny the thrill it gave her to do so, as much as she wanted to hate every second of it.

Then, things escalated. She started breaking into some of the nicer houses in Gotham to grab jewels and trinkets, and from there…

Well, she started stepping on Catwoman’s claws.

It was fully intentional, Helena could admit that to herself. She wanted the Cat’s attention. As long as she kept up the jewel heists, it was only a matter of time before she ran into her mother. Helena just hadn’t anticipated it happening quite so quickly. She only just got her suit together, courtesy of Christina.

The moment she got her hands on the absolutely enormous diamond sitting on a nice, velvety pillow, she felt a presence behind her.

“Now, just what do you plan on doing with that after you steal it?”

Helena froze. Even with her back turned, she knew exactly who was speaking to her. After all the scheming she did just to get her mother in the same room as her, she hadn’t quite planned on what to do when she actually got face-to-face with the woman.

She recovered, grabbing the diamond and slipping it into one of the many hiding places Christina had sewn into Helena’s suit. She was certainly crafty with a sewing machine, that one. Then, Helena turned to face her mother, for the very first time in her whole life.

Catwoman was a sight to behold, Helena decided. She practically oozed confidence and charisma, even just standing there. Hands on her hips, staring expectantly at the young girl in front of her. Helena noted that her suit was remarkably similar to Selina’s, an intentional choice by Christina, no doubt. She was glad they were in the masks, Helena knew from her mild stalking of her parents that she was the spitting image of Selina, one look at her unmasked face and the Cat would know.

“Sell it?” Helena hadn’t intended for her response to come out as a question, but to be fair she never really planned on doing anything with it. She would have probably ended up returning it eventually.

The jewels she stole from houses were a dime a dozen. Expensive, but nothing precious, easily taken by the pawn shop owners who didn’t ask questions. Even if they did, she could come up with a story. But this diamond was sitting in a museum under several layers of (really, easily cracked) security for a reason. It was recognizable, she’d need to do dealings with some shady people in order to get rid of it, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that.

“Oh yeah? Who to?” Catwoman’s smirk grew even wider, if that was possible.

“None of your business.”

Catwoman sighed at that. She looked Helena up and down, crossing her arms in front of her as she eyed the girl, and for a moment Helena worried she was going to try to do something like fight her for it. She didn’t.

Instead, she held out her hand, palm facing up. “Come on, hand it over. What else are you going to do with it?”

Helena scoffed, like she actually thought she would give up that easily.

“Finders keepers. I got here first.”

“What are you anyway? Robin’s new arch nemesis or something?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Helena complained rather flatly. “I’m nobody's nothing. I’m just… a stray.”

“I can see that. Kids with parents don’t go running around committing grand larceny.” She sounded smug, so smug. What did she have to be so smug about?

I have parents. One of them is standing right in front of me.

Helena swallowed her protests and leveled a glare at the Cat instead. Catwoman narrowed her eyes at her and if Helena wondered if she was sizing her up before, she was sure of it now.

“You got someplace to go, kid?”

Helena scoffed even louder that time. How ironic. The woman who gave her up for adoption was now trying to take her in off the streets. Not that she could accept the offer, one look at Helena’s unmasked face and Selina would know exactly who she was. Bruce may be oblivious, but she had the advantage of actually knowing Helena existed in the first place. And if she knew who Helena was, well, she already got rid of her once.

“Do I look like I don’t have a place to go?”

“Maybe. You’re resourceful, I’ll give you that. Took down the security system before I even got here.” Catwoman started circling Helena, this time she was examining the suit, as opposed to the girl herself. “That suit is something, but you should really get some kevlar if you want in on the business. I know a guy.” She stopped once she was back in front of Helena. “You’re what? Twelve?”

“I’m almost fifteen!”

Okay, her birthday was 11 months away, so maybe not almost, but still.

Selina was satisfied with that answer, satisfied she got some information out of Helena.

“So is that what I’m supposed to call you? Stray?” For the first time in their conversation, Selina dropped the smirk and seemed genuine, showing some respect for the little thief.

“If you would be so kind.” Helena responded, trying to muster up some of her mothers charisma in her smile.

The sound of glass breaking echoed into the hall they were standing in, followed by the voice of Robin chastising Batman.

Uh-oh.

Helena was not prepared to be seeing both of her parents that night. Nor was she prepared to be captured by one of them.

“Aaand that’s my cue. Sorry, gotta blast. As ‘mistah J’ likes to say, the Bat spoils all the fun!” Helena adopted Harley’s thick Brooklyn accent as she mocked the nickname. “But I’ll get back to you on that armor thing. In exchange–” Helena slipped the diamond out of its pocket and tossed it to Catwoman. “Thanks!”

Really, it was more of a survival tactic than a show of good faith, Batman was far less likely to follow Helena if she didn’t keep the jewel. She grappled up to a nearby vent and made her escape, she’d be back out on the street in less than a minute, and soon after that, she’d be far, far away from the scene. If Catwoman chose to inform Batman of Helena’s presence, she’d be long gone by the time she got done explaining. Though Helena thought she probably wouldn’t, she’d be too busy flirting.

Helena was happy, meeting her mother had gone about as well as she could have hoped for. Maybe Catwoman would be willing to take Stray under her wing, show her the ropes. It was the closest thing to a mother-daughter relationship Helena thought she could hope for. Fantasies of them working together on heists filled her mind as she made her way back to the abandoned theater she lived in with Christina.

Christina had proved herself as a valuable asset in more ways than one. She found the abandoned theater and suggested they live in it back when they first escaped from Healing Trails. Helena thought it was creepy, but seeing as they didn’t have any other prospects, she agreed. Christina loved it, and that’s what mattered. Plus it had the sewing machine she ended up using for Helena’s suit, so it was a win-win. Helena thanked God for the younger girls theater background. That and her unrelenting nosiness that helped greatly in digging up information on Helena’s parents.

When Helena got back to the theater, she found Christina in the green room asleep on the mattress Helena had bought with the spoils from her last break-in. After changing out of the suit and into pajamas, she tried to slip in beside her without waking her, but Christina always woke up. She still had nightmares about the academy almost every night, and she would wake up at the drop of a feather.

“How did it go?” A small, groggy voice asked.

“Good, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Go back to sleep. I’m tired.” Helena yawned as she settled in next to her pseudo-sister.

“Can I see it?” Christina shimmied around so that she was facing Helena, the light coming in from the one tiny window in the room shined on her face, showing her little blue eyes and her freckles.

“I didn’t get the diamond.”

“I thought you said it went good.” Christina pouted slightly and Helena pushed a blonde hair out of her face.

“I met my mom.” She replied simply.

Christina lit up. “Really? Did she like you?”

“I think so, but that’s only because she doesn’t know who I am. Or maybe she just thought it was funny.” That time, it was Helena’s turn to pout.

“I don’t think that’s true, you know. There’s lots of reasons people give babies up for adoption. And if she’s really Catwoman, then maybe she gave you up to keep you safe.”

Helena wanted to believe Christina, she really did. But she was too young, her explanation sounding too… hopeful.

“Stellar job, that did.” She snorted. “If that's true, then all the more reason not to tell her who I am. If she gave me up to keep me safe, then she probably wouldn’t like what I’m doing right now very much.”

“You don’t even want to give her a chance? Maybe she misses you just as much as you miss her. Maybe she already knows who you are and that’s why she liked you!” Christina’s voice was practically pleading by that point. Helena understood, she was probably hoping that they’d both be taken in by Catwoman and be a proper family, complete with an actual parent.

“Maybe.” Helena conceded. “But I want to try to get to know her first. That way, if she doesn’t want me, then at least I got to spend time with her for a little while, yanno?”

“Yeah, I get it. But you really should try. You gotta give people a chance sometimes.” Christina yawned and turned back over onto her stomach. “Goodnight, Lena.”

“Sweet dreams.”

…

I hope you liked it ☺️ — I’ve been storyboarding for almost a year at this point (my timeline is air tight goddammit.) Also I did not come up with stray but I can’t find the OG post I saw about it!! If someone knows who originally came up with that idea please let me know so I can give creds!

[randomnerd737]

I was thinking about the 5 year anniversary video and

it is interesting to me how Patton kind of decided for Logan what his role in the "family" would be. all the other sides chose it themselves, but he didn't get to.

even when he actively objects it's played for laughs and never addressed. this happened too when Patton revealed his name for him, and I just think it's interesting to note that after all these years, Logan still never gets to decide anything when it comes to Thomas, or even himself, to an extent. it's just kind of decided for him and he is expected to just go along with it, similar to how it was when Thomas dyed his hair.

ik it's mainly a "haha wine mom" moment, but that doesn't take away from how angsty it gets when you think about it.

[imnotditzy]

The what ifs

Captain paused, as they touched the ground of the ruined park, a consequence of the ended battle.

“What did you say?” Billy asked, Captain nodded in the shared interest.

 The person whispered, quietly.

“I'm sorry, I can’t understand you.” Billy admitted, a small tinge of upset budded within himself. He paused, bringing his attention to Marvel. 

There was a loose smile laid on Captain’s face which seemed to indicate Marvel understood as much as Billy did. 

“Who are you?” Billy asked.

They replied, but he couldn’t hear.

The loose smile fell into a nervous one, and Billy was beginning to feel redundant, “I’m sorry…Can you please speak up?” He asked, timidly.

“𝔶o҉𝔲…҉ f҉𝔦n҉𝔞l҉𝔩y҉ t҉𝔥e҉ w҉𝔦n҉𝔡 𝔥a҉𝔰 𝔢c҉𝔥o҉𝔢d҉ t҉𝔥e҉ w҉𝔬r҉𝔡s҉ o҉𝔣 𝔱h҉𝔢 𝔲n҉𝔦v҉𝔢r҉𝔰e҉, 𝔱h҉𝔢 𝔰n҉𝔞k҉𝔢 𝔥a҉𝔰 𝔟i҉𝔱t҉𝔢n҉ i҉𝔱s҉ t҉𝔞i҉𝔩.҉ t҉𝔥e҉ e҉𝔫d҉ w҉𝔦t҉𝔥 𝔱h҉𝔢 𝔟e҉𝔤i҉𝔫n҉𝔦n҉𝔤 𝔞s҉ t҉𝔥e҉𝔶 𝔢x҉𝔦s҉𝔱 𝔱o҉𝔤e҉𝔱h҉𝔢r҉ i҉𝔫 𝔦m҉𝔭e҉𝔯m҉𝔞n҉𝔢n҉𝔠e҉…” They whispered.

Captain narrowed their eyes as they tried to decipher what the unknown voice said.

 “Uh…I…I’m sorry, you’re confusing me.” Billy paused, “Impermanence? Did you say that?”

“𝔡a҉𝔯e҉ i҉ s҉𝔭e҉𝔞k҉ l҉𝔬u҉𝔡e҉𝔯?҉ y҉𝔢s҉ i҉ d҉𝔬 𝔡a҉𝔯e҉, 𝔦n҉𝔡e҉𝔢d҉. 𝔫o҉ r҉𝔢g҉𝔯e҉𝔱s҉ m҉𝔞y҉ r҉𝔦d҉𝔡l҉𝔢 𝔪y҉ f҉𝔲n҉𝔠t҉𝔦o҉𝔫l҉𝔢s҉𝔰 𝔟o҉𝔡y҉…”

Marvel blinked again, eyes widening too, almost in registration. 

The words made Billy wonder if he was hard of hearing or just too light in the head. His confusion was interrupted as the odd voice spoke again. 

“Iḿṕéŕḿáńéńćé, ӳőú áńd í. Áś ẃéĺĺ áś ćőńtŕádíćtíőńś, főŕ í éxíśt főŕévéŕ áńd ńő évéŕḿőŕé. I bŕéáthé thŕőúǵh ḿӳ hőńőŕ áńd áḿ śháṕéd thŕőúǵh thé ćŕúéĺ ẃőŕdś— I, á tőŕtúŕéd śőúĺ, ḿáӳ ńévéŕ ŕéśt. Bút ít íś áĺĺ I ćáń dő…á ŕéśtĺéśś ḿíńd, á áćtíőńĺéśś bődӳ. Téĺĺ ḿé, á féĺĺőẃ ṕŕédíćtéd śőúĺ, thé ẃáӳ ẃé fúĺfíĺĺ thé díŕéćtíőń őf thé úńívéŕśé. I ẃőńdéŕ íś thé úńívéŕśé át thé éńd őf thé śtŕíńǵ?”

Billy started to feel like a fool. The words, Billy didn’t get what any of them meant. He wanted to frown, despite his incapability to do so at that moment, he had too many questions and no way of answers. Goodness, the words didn’t make any sense anymore.

“Captain?” 

Captain Marvel’s head swung toward the voice, and their eyes landed on Superman.

“…Yes?” They muttered, sheepishly scratching the back of their neck. The look in Superman’s eyes and the furrow of his brows made Billy want to squirm, and Marvel began to fidget on their feet. 

The voice spoke up again, no more coherent than the last, “Thé štörÿ thé qüîłł háš ćréátéd áñd šîgñéd för ÿöü, îñtrîgüéš mé. Wîłł ÿöür démîšé bé áš hörrîfîć áñd grüéšömé áš thé pášt wéré? Wîłł ît bé bÿ ÿöür öwñ háñd, á háñd töö šîmîłár tö mÿ öwñ? Ör šháłł ÿöür špîrît ñévér röám thé Röćk öf Étérñîtÿ, —för étérñîtÿ… Î šháłł wáłk wîth ÿöü, îf ñöt.” The voice paused, “Ör wöüłd wé škîp? Höwévér háš thé évéñt bééñ šćrîptéd? Öh, pérhápš théÿ’d áłłöw mé tö táké á péék. Thé hörrîbłé šîght ćöüłd błéšš mÿ éÿéš áš Î göügé thém áftérwárd…” The voice droned, a smile present in their tone.

Billy sighed internally, and Marvel did the same.

“Ñéw Ćhámpîöñ. Ćhámpîöñ. Thát wáš mÿ tîtłé öñćé, ñö ñümbér, ñö łégáćÿ tö öwñ. Î ám thé réášöñ för ÿöür éxîštéñćé, béćáüšé Î ám á fáîłüré. Fáîłüré, áłł Ćhámpîöñš áré fáîłüréš, máÿ Î fáîł. Máÿ ÿöü fáîł. Máÿ thé ñéxt fáîł šö théré áré öthérš tö fáîł. Fáîłîñg îš á ćöñšéqüéñćé öf bréáthîñg, áñd thîš îš öñłÿ trüé bÿ mÿ áćtîöñ. Łîštéñ tö mé, łîštéñ tö mé.” The voice repeated that last part over and over and over and over an—again. 

Billy wanted to frown, the voice was wearing him down like an old shoe. The person was still speaking nonsense, or was it nonsense, yes it was nonsense. And Billy started to feel bad for the voice, despite the reasons why he shouldn’t have because he knew their words were rooted in reality, they seemed out of it.

Billy decided to focus on someone else, and shifted his attention to Superman. He was looking at them, oddly. 

“Captain, can you hear me?”

What a silly question, of course he could. Adults often did a thing where they asked pointless questions to him, maybe Superman had entertained the habit, too. 

Billy responded this time, “Yes, Superman. You’re perfectly heard, fine, for sure.” And they gave him a toothy smile.

That didn’t stop the look. “I…” He cut himself off, “Okay, Captain.” 

Good, Billy thought, maybe he understood now. 

Captain smiled wider.

Something landed in the grass before them and their eyes focused on it. The shiny golden liquid began to drip onto the ground as if it was watering the grass at their feet. 

The golden substance seemed familiar. 

The liquid continued to drip past their eyes, and rain onto the floor.

“Captain?” 

“Hm?” Marvel looked up, staring Superman in the eyes.

His tone became…harsher, “Are you alright?” He said.

Marvel nodded, which caused something to trickle down their forehead and down the sides of their head. 

Did they move their head into the gold rain?

Superman spoke, “Captain Marvel, can you look at me?” 

Billy was certain Superman was doing the thing now, the adult thing.

So, Captain Marvel laughed. “I am.” They replied.

As they laughed, the liquid shook down their head and fell down their neck. 

Captain raised their arm, and tapped their forehead.

They stopped, eyes wide.

It was covered in thick gold.

[accirax]

Nene’s Role in Wonderlands x Showtime

The release of The Miniature Garden’s Coral seems to have confirmed some things I’ve recently speculated might transpire in future Wonderlands x Showtime events-- namely regarding Nene and how she may actually be the most important member of the troupe-- so, let’s talk about them! I’ll be using zui’s lyrics video for my translations, so hopefully they’re accurate.

With the past couple of WxS events in mind, it’s easy to see that this 3DMV is also about endings. While the MV begins in a sunny blue afternoon light...

...the characters and set eventually bask in a beautiful sunset orange, signaling the end of the day. The lyrics even mention being “between the end of the blue sky and the beginning of the night sky,” further emphasizing that we’re in the middle of the story. When the sky is blue, the troupe expresses uncertainty: Rui mentions that he feels lost, and Tsukasa, scared. But eventually, Nene admits that, in this beginning period, she was “spoiled by the sound of the waves,” AKA that the commotion surrounding WxS’s formation led to a troupe that became a source of comfort for all of them.

Once the sun sets, there are a lot of “even ifs.” Nene sings about how she’ll continue to sing this song, even if things are starting to look unsteady and she’s not sure if she should proceed. However, by the end of the song, she resolves to "still sing this song” while keeping up a smile.

I think that the fact that Nene says she will sing this song is incredibly important, because, as established, this song is about endings. Meanwhile, back in Mr. Showtime, Tsukasa firmly didn’t want WxS to end, and was holding out until closing time. Rui’s What Sort of Ending Are You Wishing For? and Emu’s Starry Sky Orchestra seemingly both acknowledge an ending as well, but it’s not at all easy. Rui seems to fall into a resigned depression at the thought, keeping a whimsical facade up when the very thought of separating kills him inside. The thought haunts him, MV riddled with hourglasses that he can’t get out of his head. Emu can only tolerate taking the first step towards a breakup with tooth-rottingly sugarcoated promises of eternal togetherness and literally holding hands as they go (I love her btw this is not Emu slander). She never even says the word “end,” only “tomorrow.”

Rui, Emu, and Tsukasa are basically Denialx3. Rui tries to deny his emotions regarding disbanding, Emu tries to deny that the ending is coming at all, and Tsukasa tries to deny that there’s nothing he can do to keep them from inevitably drifting apart. And that’s where Nene comes in again.

Rui’s dream is to perform technically complex shows that will resonate with an audience. He can do that from Phoenix Wonderland. Emu’s dream is to keep the Wonder Stage up and operating forever. She has to do that from Phoenix Wonderland. Tsukasa’s dream is to become the number one world star and make everyone smile. While this would likely take him away from the park, in another story, I could see it being possible that, in the end, Tsukasa decides that making the people in his local community happy is more important than trying to change the entire world. Thus, he could also follow his dream from Phoenix Wonderland, even if it’s not ideal.

But then there’s Nene. Her dream is, and always has been, to perform in Broadway musicals. Broadway is a live performance in New York City. There is no possible way for Nene to get what she wants while staying in Phoenix Wonderland. And that is possibly why Wonderlands x Showtime’s ending is the easiest for her to process.

Now, I’m not trying to say that Nene doesn’t love her friends. She adores them. Her three previous commissions have proven that. It’s the amount of love she has for them that will propel her to make what is actually the best choice for their dreams. Nene is the little mermaid, both when swimming freely the oceans with a beautiful, unstoppable song, and when enduring pain herself to stand with and for the ones she loves. Her friends, in this situation... are coral.

Remember that coral, “blurred” and uncertain in the water and “stained orange by the setting sun”? The miniature garden is Phoenix Wonderland; the coral is Emu, Rui, and Tsukasa; and that coral is stained orange by its desperation to keep rereading the final chapter instead of closing the book for now and putting it away to revisit in the future. Coral, while a beautiful living organism, is also completely static.

Static like stone statues which, at least by my interpretation, is what the rest of WxS turns into at the end of the 3DMV. The three of them (and Kaito) are paralyzed with the fear of the suffering an ending would bring. Only Nene is alive and human to be the one to show the group the benefits it can bring as well.

There are a lot of aspects of this song and Nene’s entire personality that lead me to believe that she will be the one to bring about change in WxS. First, she most often “has the braincell,” so to speak. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she performs this song with Kaito, the most mature of the WxS vocaloids, either. During April Fool’s 2023, she was put into the Solid Heart class. One might think that troupe leader Tsukasa should be the Solid Heart, and that shy Nene should be the Cautious Heart, but they (accurately) sorted it the other way.

Nene is a very strong-willed person. In other stories, it might be seen as a negative that Nene is always the most hesitant one to get into shenanigans, or that she would even dare to be the one to suggest a WxS split in the first place. What an ungrateful wet blanket Nene is, willing to throw away her friends for the sake of her own selfish dream. But in this story, staying at Phoenix Wonderland isn’t really what will make Rui or Tsukasa happy, and even Emu may have to graduate to focusing on the entire company instead of just one stage someday.

Nene’s friends brought her out of the darkness and into the light of day, and she is so grateful for that. She knows how amazing they are, which is how she knows that they can make more friends and continue to do even more amazing things in the future if they can bear to leave their high school part-time jobs behind and enter the real world, just like her.

So, Nene’s role is to be Wonderlands x Showtime’s guiding light. She’ll tell Rui what sort of ending she’s wishing for, and then console him when he can’t repress his tears. She’ll be the one to hold Emu’s hand while they take that next step into tomorrow. Her three best friends helped her to grow from the loner who operated a robot from the theme park bushes, and she’ll help them step out of that theme park and be who they truly want to be.

There is one other thing I wanted to mention, though...

Tsukasa.

As I mentioned previously, while all three of Rui, Emu, and Tsukasa are in denial, Tsukasa is the most actively in opposition to an ending. He’s also the troupe leader, and the sole creator of the Wonderland Sekai. If someone is going to actively try to stop Nene from suggesting separation, it’s definitely going to at least start with him. But as Nene has already stated in The Miniature Garden’s Coral, despite any opposition that makes her question whether or not she should proceed, she already plans to continue singing her beliefs about a bittersweet yet timely goodbye.

And, their conflict is something that’s basically been foreshadowed from the beginning too, right? Nene has always roasted Tsukasa, giving a counterpoint to his blindingly bright worldview. In upcoming chapters, however, I believe that may start to transform from simple fun banter into a genuine conflict with clear sides drawn...

And THAT’S why ColoPale gave them Childish War.

Nenekasa nation get ready, ‘cause I don’t think this is the last Nene and Tsukasa fight we’re going to see.

[lightofraye]

An Open Letter

Dear Jensen,

You don’t know me. Chances are, we may never meet. Not unless I get very lucky at a convention or one of your Radio Company concerts. I wish I could say I’d be okay with that, but the fangirl in me has to be honest—it would be an honor if I could. (You’re actually on my bucket list, believe it or not.)

However, that’s not the point of this letter. Call it an open letter, on the off chance you come across it. I imagine your Ackles Army fans will disagree with what I’m about to say, as they’ve disagreed with a ton of the posts I’ve written in the past. That’s okay. I think I’m a part of a small sub-section of the fandom that see you as a person, as opposed to an object to admire for beauty and only that.

You’re a human being. A flawed, imperfect human being. Yes, you have aged like fine wine. I’m not going to deny that. For someone approaching his 50s, you look at least ten years younger. Add in green eyes, that wicked smile of yours when you use it, and many a person would be swooning. You seem to know when to use it and that is always a dangerous thing, regardless of the person’s gender.

You’re also a talented actor—when you apply yourself. When you apply yourself, many are shaken by the depths. I know especially in earlier seasons of Supernatural, we were floored. There’s immense potential in you. It’s been seen. It’s been recognized.

Then something happened.

You lost yourself. You were once an orchestra that was in tune, playing beautifully. Your energies were in synch with Jared and the show. You were doing well in conventions. As time progressed, cracks were beginning to be seen. At the end of Supernatural, those cracks were gaping wide, seeping wounds for anyone to see. (Well, anyone not of your Ackles Army fan group.)

You wounded Jared with your actions. You accused fans of not being true fans of Supernatural if they didn’t believe or support The Winchesters. You made up stories, twisted the truth. More things became obvious—friendships made for the benefit of yourself as opposed to the benefit of the heart and soul. It would seem to the outsider that sycophants were giving you the worst of advice while you were ignoring the ones you should be listening to.

You pushed a narrative that to many were obviously untrue. The discordant notes in your orchestra were getting louder, noticeable to even those who weren’t musically inclined. You still push that narrative and to many of us, myself included, we frown and purse our lips, aware of just how false it is.

While you are looking better as you have been seen in conventions, there’s something tugging at the eyes, pulling at the soul. Is it just the discordant notes? Is it the insincerity of the stories? Is it the signs of excess alcohol that can be seen at the edges?

Or is it the tons of photos and videos that we’ve seen since 2019? Where the unhappiness is so noticeable that those who care feel their hearts aching and wishing we could reach through and give you a genuine hug? To give you something real that isn’t acquired by having a somewhat well-known name and money to spend? That the only benefit would be to the heart and soul and not to the pocketbook?

To industry experts, you had potential. But since the end of Supernatural, the offers weren’t flying to you like you expected. You called Eric for a role in The Boys and you were supplied Soldier Boy. Then you reached out to Ben for Big Sky. You’ve been sort of networking to those you’ve worked with in the past or had a shared history at the CW, but nothing beyond that.

You coasted, when you should’ve worked. In Hollywood, the real work is at premiers and red carpets where you meet other people in the industry and make yourself known. You have charisma; it radiates off you on the screen. But you don’t spread it.

You can’t expect the pollen to come to you. Be the butterfly, be the bee, and go hopping from flower to flower.

Go spend a month with Jared. He’s had regular work for twenty-four years. He took his career responsibly and maybe he’s had some missteps, but overall, he’s had praise from cast and crew alike. He’s ran regular success, enough that his future is secure for some time.

Humble yourself. Set aside your pride. We do believe in you, we believe in your future as an actor, but for all that is good, please, acknowledge there’s much you do not know.

One of your biggest cracks would be your marriage to Danneel. We do not see any joy or happiness there. No real love. Despite your exaggerated narratives that you tell at conventions, it’s just not believable. Is it fear of being seen as a failure? Is it fear of being alone? Is it fear of losing access to your children? Given you barely see them already….

The only failure is never try a different way. Your narrative to Hollywood is wildly inconsistent, other than the loud blaring that says you do not know who you are. That you change with who you are with.

Who is the real Jensen? Who is the man behind the beauty? Who is the man behind the mask? Is he still the little boy who was wrongly taught by his father that the beatings were meant with love? Is he still the young man who thought he made the right decision to go through the wedding when he wasn’t ready? Is he still the one who decided that perhaps it was best to rarely be home as he couldn’t be himself there?

Who are you, really?

I would love to set that orchestra back to being beautiful music again.

In eternal melody, Raye