#what the actual fuck is going on this season

[nonphoto-blue]

Lucky Lucky ꕤ Cho Hyun-ju x Reader [1/?]

Read on AO3 Masterlist Summary: After your previous manager runs away to America with the funds meant to kickstart your debut, your band 4tune is left to pick up the pieces in an impending scandal. The new manager, Cho Hyun-ju, says she’ll do everything to ensure your debut is successful, but it’s a long road until she gains your trust, especially when her own secrets come to light. Or, the kpop/krock/band AU no one asked for.

Warnings: Slowwwww burn. Kind of an inherent power imbalance but reader isn't taking bs from anyone, and reader is 20+. Reader is AFAB and uses she/her. She's implied to be Korean/from South Korea but no physical description is used.

A/N: So I've had the horrible idea of a kpop au for Squid Game since the first season came out. Originally I'd thought of a Sangwoo x Reader fic but it felt in bad taste at the time. Season 2 came out and I can't stop thinking about Hyun-ju so uh. You're getting this.

Five years. You’ve been in trainee hell for five years, learning the ins and outs of PR, songwriting, language, appearances, how to fucking smile at a camera when all you wanted to do was sing and play guitar and look out at a crowd with more people than you can count on your hands. All for your dreams to be stolen away, packed up in bags and expedite-shipped to the United States. 

If you could go back in time to tell your past self to save herself the trouble and give up music altogether, you’d consider it. Or at least tell her to flip off the agency scout the second he approaches. Sure, you’d still be busking on the street, but you’d be spared this bullshit and continue life with hope still. You don’t want to be an idol. You want to be– you are a musician, and the evidence was going to be your debut.

Your band, 4tune, is slated to record your debut in a month, and begin promotions just a couple months from now, but thanks to your no-good-money-stealing-piece-of-shit ex-manager, the money set aside for appearances and advertising is no longer in the company’s bank account. With grim faces, you, your bandmates, and a few members of the company higher ups gather around a table in an emergency meeting.

“It’s ridiculous,” Se-mi crosses her arms across her chest, huffing her bangs out of her eyes. “What a coward.” She stands, crossing to a floor-length window and staring at the skyline of Mapo-gu, disbelief written on her face. 

Your mouth forms a thin line. “Who just… takes the money and runs? How was he allowed to take all of it anyway?”

“That’s all we know,” the CEO, Hwang In-ho, murmurs. He laces his fingers together and scans the rest of the band’s faces as you take in the not-quite-death-sentence he delivered your group. “We’ve got the police in South Korea and the United States investigating, but they haven’t found him yet.”

“So what does this mean for 4tune? I mean, are we… still going to debut?” Young-mi asks. 

“We don’t have a manager, we don’t have money, we don’t have a debut.” Jun-hee puts a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes in exasperation. 

“Actually,” In-ho raises a finger. “We do have a new manager for you. She couldn’t make this meeting, but she’s coming up from Busan after lunch. You’ll meet her tonight or tomorrow.” He leans forward in his seat, and rests both arms on the table in front of him. “Rest assured, you will debut.”

You can’t help but feel your lips curl into a sneer. A new manager? Who’s to say this one won’t make off with whatever scraps of money are left? You hear Se-mi scoff from the window, her thoughts echoing your own. Jun-hee looks hesitant, but Young-mi looks up at In-ho with hope.

“What’s her name? What’s she like?”

“Cho Hyun-ju. She’s an old acquaintance.” Looking over the group’s faces, In-ho stands, and begins to make his way to the meeting room door. “I’ve known her for a long time. She’s a good person.” Hardly glowing praise, but you suppose anyone would be better than the ex-manager. The other company members follow In-ho out of the room, meeting adjourned, leaving just your group members with their thoughts.

Your gaze lingers on the frosted glass door they left from. “Great. A manager, but no money. She can drive us around and shit, but we have nowhere to go. What’s the point?” Your words are bitter, spat in sorrowful resignation. 

Young-mi, ever the optimist, takes your hand in her’s. “Let’s give her a chance. In-ho sajangnim vouched for her, I say we see how she clicks with us before giving up on her.” She smiles meekly at the other members. None of you share her optimism, but with a shared side eye, the rest of you begrudgingly hear Young-mi out and agree.

“Fine,” you offer. “But if she does anything remotely shady I’m clawing my way out of this contract.” ꕤ

Despite the sudden wrench in 4tune’s future plans, you all have a schedule to uphold, so you go through the motions as if nothing was wrong. After a short break for lunch, language classes, pose training, you finally make it to the only part of training that doesn’t feel like a chore: rehearsal as a whole band. 

The rehearsal space is intimate; a small room with warm wood-panel flooring and a three-person couch in the corner. Se-mi’s drum kit is already set up on the drum rug, as is Young-mi’s keyboard and three amps, one for Young-mi’s bass, one for Jun-hee’s guitar, and one for yours, as well as a vocal mic on a long arm. Stepping into the space brings an energy you thought would be lost following this morning’s bad news, and you place your guitar’s hard case down with a determined vigor.

You unlatch the case, and pull out your guitar, a Fender Lite Ash Telecaster. The strap rests perfectly on your shoulder, the neck fitting perfectly in your left hand, a guitar pick in your right. The quarter-inch cable plugs into your guitar with a satisfying click and the amp hums to life when you switch it on. You set upon tuning your guitar, but it doesn’t take much adjustment for any member of the band, and soon your group is playing the first notes of what will be your title track for your debut.

It’s an upbeat song, and the lyrics are inherently hopeful and optimistic. You feel the stress pouring out of you as you hear how well the band plays together. From the wailing of Jun-hee’s guitar, to the machine-like precision of Se-mi’s drumming, to the effortless jumping from keys to bass by Young-mi, pride fills your heart knowing that you’re collaborating, and creating something beautiful in spite of everything going wrong.

You play rhythm guitar and sing. Closing your eyes, you pour your heart and soul into the high-energy chorus, the softer verses, and everything in between. As the outro plays out and you all play your final notes, a soft applause that crescendos into a quick flurry of claps breaks through your reverie. 

You hadn’t noticed when she came in, but at the door stands an unfamiliar woman. She’s tall, and seems a bit younger than In-ho. Her hair is cut at her shoulders with blunt bangs reaching her eyebrows. She’s dressed well, and she’s not standing timidly per-se, but there’s an awkwardness to how she holds herself, like she’s unsure if she’s allowed in this space.

“I���m sorry,” she smiles at the band. “I was told you were in this practice room and I heard you playing. You all sound amazing.”

Young-mi smiles back. “You must be the new manager! It’s nice to meet you! I’m-”

“Young-mi, right?” Young-mi nods. The woman turns to the drumset, “You’re Se-mi,” to the lead guitarist, “and Jun-hee,” and then she turns to you, and says your name so tenderly, so kindly, every fiber of your being is shouting at you to give her a chance. “And yes, I’m Cho Hyun-ju, your new manager.” ꕤ

Rehearsal stagnates after Hyun-ju’s arrival as the band seems more interested in the new arrival than playing, but you keep your guitar plugged in and guitar strap on. Young-mi puts down her bass and steps away from her keyboard to approach Hyun-ju immediately, Jun-hee following soon after. You pluck out a few notes here and there, trying to at least try to get through your part of the next song, but after Se-mi stands up from her drumset, you give up trying to continue rehearsal.

Hyun-ju seated herself on the couch in the corner. Jun-hee and Se-mi stand in front of her, and Young-mi sits beside her. “I’m excited to work with you all,” Hyun-ju half-bows in her seat. “You sounded amazing playing just now, your debut will be a hit, I can just feel it.”

“We’re happy to have you here too. I’m sure you’ve heard but our last manager flaked out on us.” Se-mi explains. Hyun-ju hums a condolence, eyes casting down to the ground. “We’re almost ready to record our album, so I’m sure you’ll have a lot to do coming up.”

You clear your throat, walking over to the group. “What experience do you have managing?” You don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. It’s supposed to be a light conversation about her work history, not an interrogation into her credentials. Hyun-ju’s face falters at the stern tone, and you kick yourself internally.

“Managing specifically, I've done most of the tasks individually before. That is, things like schedule management and driving and the like. I do have experience in the music and idol industry outside of management.”

You try to school your expression, you really do, and you pull your lips into a not-quite-smile that ends up looking more like a grimace. “Well then,” you push out, “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

[seat-safety-switch]

Let's be honest, folks: you've gone through like half a dozen socks in the last couple of months, haven't you? Yeah. Socks nowadays suck, and we've all got our reasons why. Blah blah globalization wah wah market won't reward quality woo woo creeping degradation of the moral universe. That's whining, and when I whined as a kid my mom locked me in the basement until I built an intricate machine to fix whatever I was whining about. Sometimes, if my uncle was already locked down there, she'd make me do it in the shed instead. Let's go to that shed right now and make a machine to make socks.

Winter is the hardest season for sock survival. For one thing, it's real dry. You get that rough skin, that static electricity, bristly boot soles all the time, and they fall apart on your feet. Big holes. I'm sure Big Sock gets a huge rise in their stocking price – get it? – around this time every year, as everyone needs new socks for Christmas or other seasonal/denominational shopping holidays. Fuck 'em, is what I say. We're going to fix their little red wagon.

Now, you might be unsurprised to hear that humanity already has a machine to make socks. We just don't put good materials in it. Unfortunately, I was never trained to make a machine that makes "good sock materials," whatever those are, so we're going to cut a corner here and slap a Chevy small-block V8 on an AliExpress "Full Automatic High Capacity Socks Machine Sock Knitting Machine for Sport," which I paid $39.95 for and got a 15% off coupon in exchange for giving it a five star review, no matter how many children it maims. Critically: it has free returns, so I can get that forty bucks back when we've made a year's supply of foot coverings.

The most important part of this job is building a good coupling. The massive amount of torque from the vee aight needs to be transferred into the sock-making machine, ideally without breaking it. Otherwise you're going to just spend more money on clutches, dowels, wrist pins and spring baskets than you would have on more socks. It helps if you've gone through an entire undergraduate materials-engineering degree, but for those of us who have gotten a restraining order from their local university, well, we have to do what works. Which is a truck clutch, tactically welded onto this sucker, using the display unit welder that they have at Princess Auto while the employees weren't looking.

Now, let's rev this piece of shit up and make us some socks.

Okay, things have not gone well. I admit that "roaring fire" is a big downside. Turns out that these things really need some yarn loaded into them first. If you just fire it dry, what it actually does is try to turn its own asshole inside out. The good news is that I can probably wear this prolapsed chunk of smouldering wiring harness as a sock. Seems pretty warm, I'm going to count this as a win.

[gothicfied]

can you write a squid game fic or head cannons of other characters finding out the reader is struggling with self harm? If so, thank you and I understand it is a sensitive topics and may be uncomfortable to write.

Squid Game season 2 characters x reader who struggles with sh

Featuring: Thanos / Player 230, Se-mi / Player 380, Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120, Nam-gyu / Player 124, Kang Dae-ho / Player 388, Park Min-su / Player 125, Kim Jun-hee / Player 222

(Trigger) Warnings: Mention/Talk about sh, depression, and things of this nature, this is comfort/angst, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Summary: Basically what the ask says

A/N: hey! I hope this is what you imagined, sorry if some of these are ooc😞🙏

Thanos / Player 230

જ⁀➴ Before he really knew, he'd constantly make your life a living hell, basically making fun of your shyness. He'd make certain comments to which he knew you wouldn't react to or would try to persuade you to vote in favor of the game containing.

જ⁀➴ You'd constantly tell him off and to leave you alone. It didn't really help, though. Thanos would just sit down next to you and talk your ear off about what he wanted to do with that prize money.

જ⁀➴ When you stood up to leave, rollung your eyes at him, he grabbed you by your wrist.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Thanos blurted out, giving you an offended glare. "You know, it's really rude to just leave a conversation like that." When you tried to get out of his grip, your sleeves rode up your arm, revealing scars you weren't proud of or wanted him to see. When you realized it, he did too, immediately letting go of you.

જ⁀➴ Since Thanos knew what it meant to struggle with mental health he did actually leave you alone for now. But, after the next game, he approached you again and sat down next to you. "I'm sorry about yesterday." he said, patting you on the back.

જ⁀➴ He related to you in a way, but didn't want to ask you about what went on in your private life. Now you just appreciated that he seemingly didn't overstep any boundaries anymore and even checked up from you every now and then.

Se-mi / Player 380

જ⁀➴ You and her had been a duo ever since she came up to you and complimented your looks. Even if you denied it or not, she'd repeat it multiple times, winning you over with her charm quickly.

જ⁀➴ You two had the same mindset on a lot of things, originally voting 'O', thinking you were able to survive one more lousy game. That game was a death scare. Nothing about it was funny anymore. You appreciated your life too much these days to die like this.

જ⁀➴ When the second favor didn't go your way, both Se-mi and you now voting 'X', you felt helpless. One night, the two of you were sitting on her bed, just talking about your past and how you got to this point in the first place. While Se-mi was more secluded, only telling you that 'there are so much worse things she had to face when she got out' you trusted her enough to tell her about a sensitive time in your life.

"I'm not really secretive about this anymore," you pushed your sleeves up, revealing faded scars along your forearm, "but yeah. It was all pretty fucked up. The whole debt thing didn't make it any better." Se-mi looked at you with raised eyebrows, her fingers tracing the lines on your wrists. "I knew you were strong. Don't worry, we'll get out of here."

જ⁀➴ She put in double the work to protect you — She just wanted you to start a better life with that money and be happy, free from debt and all of it.

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju noticed from the start that you were more secluded, more prone to cry, panicked easily. It was clear to her that you were struggling with this situation, perhaps even more than that. She made it her task to help you as much as she could, comfort you and keep you close to her and her group.

જ⁀➴ You'd often rant to her and tell her what bothered you after she reassured her she'd take care of anything possible. Hyun-ju was the anker you needed in this shithole and you just appreciated her very much. Everything she did seemed to be out of genuine interest and not just to gain your trust and abuse it.

જ⁀➴ Accidentally, Hyun-ju did catch a glimpse of the scars you were so desperate to hide. She didn't mention it, feeling like it wasn't her place to comment on it. Her heart did break for you, though.

જ⁀➴ From then on, she made sure to speak softer to you and distract you from all the horror around you.

Hyun-ju hugged you tightly against her chest, her arms engulfing your figure. "Tonight things could get a bit scary," she mumbled into your hair while she rested her face against your head, "I just want you to know now rather than find out later. I'll keep you safe, you know that." You just nodded, reciprocating the hug after a few moments.

Nam-gyu / Player 124

જ⁀➴ When he found out, as you didn't make the effort to hide them or anything, he did refrain from provoking you in any way. Nam-gyu related, as he considered his drug use not to be the best thing he could do to his body.

જ⁀➴ Both of you hung around in the same group, since Thanos really wanted you on his team, constantly giving you compliments and flirting with you. It annoyed him to a degree, scoffing everytime Thanos tried to talk to him about how pretty you were, how much he wanted you, give you the world. In Nam-gyu's opinion, he didn't get you.. didn't get what you went through, at all.

જ⁀➴ One evening before lights out, the two of you were teasing each other about something and laughed together — something that rarely occured amongst the other players.

"Want me to show you something?" Nam-gyu asked you, leaning a bit closer. Chuckling, you replied with a 'mhm' and watched him pull up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing skin tracks along the inside of his elbow. You raised an eyebrow: "Oh?" You took his arm to get a closer look, tracing his skin with your fingertips. "Well, we all have our stories, huh?" The man nodded at your wrists, making you look at them too, like you didn't already know what he meant.

જ⁀➴ The both of you grew close to each other, much to his amuse. He was a junkie, you were depressed.. it's like a disaster in the making. But, you didn't care. He was sweet and weirdly kind to you — Not in the way Thanos was. You made sure to hug Nam-gyu a few times more after that, in case it could be the last timd you'd get to do that.

Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

જ⁀➴ You were glad to be on Gi-hun's team from the start, since Dae-ho and you got along really well. As a former Marine, which he was super proud of obviously, he declared he'd protect you immediately after you met, making you laugh.

જ⁀➴ He was kind, strong and funny, but maybe a bit oblivious at times.

During the six-legged pentathlon, you two sat next to each other, cheering the current active team on. Yelling and screaming filled the area as they crossed the finish lind just in time, making everyone erupt in cheers. Dae-ho immediately hugged you with joy, excited to see the five live another day, at least. After pulling back witha laugh, you gave him a small high five with your sleeve rolled back. When noticing scars along your wrist and forearm, the former marine gasped pretty loudly. "What?" you asked with genuine concerning, fearing something was wrong with you. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Dae-ho pulled your sleeve back over your arm. "Dude," he looked at you with wide eyes "it's fine." You needed to hold back a laugh.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho felt so bad to havs accidentally seen something you've been struggling with, that he couldn't help but apologize profusely. You repeated to him that it wasn't a big deal for you and that you were working on this problem, but he didn't stop nonetheless.

જ⁀➴ You thought it was cute how much he seemed to care for you and how often he came up to you just to tell you that he appreciated you. And Dae-ho did, he didn't just say that to make you feel better.

Park Min-su / Player 125

જ⁀➴ Min-su is just shy over all. When he noticed it, he wouldn't say a thing. He'd be dead silent, maybe even a bit scared to talk to you. He was just scared he'd make it awkward, somehow hinting that he knew about your scars. Min-su was just someone who overthought a lot and even you noticed it.

જ⁀➴ After a bit, it annoyed you — The sudden lack of his presence next to you, the fact that he wouldn't properly talk to you anymore, it was all just weird and confusing. So, you decided to ask him directly.

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice wasn't stern, but Min-su could tell that you were kind of upset. "Ah, no-" he quickly replied back, shaking his head, "it's really not you!" He looked at you with his typical innocent face, making it hard for you to keep pressing him about this matter. "Then what is it, seriously?"

જ⁀➴ He explained what he saw and said that he just felt so sorry. Well, at least he didn't speak to you because he didn't want to hurt or upset you, which was really thoughtful.

જ⁀➴ You'd expect that he would now be the one to comfort you or something, but no it was the complete opposite. Min-su seemed to worried about you and kept asking you how you were feeling or if anything bothered you. You had to keep reassuring him that those times were in the past and that he didn't have to be so worried.

જ⁀➴ It was really cute though, so you let it slide.

Kim Jun-hee / Player 222 (implied fem!reader)

જ⁀➴ Since Jun-hee and you were pretty close in age, you two had found each other right away. You kept telling her that she needed more protection, or at least an ally like you, on her side sincs she was pregnant. You weren't really serious about that, just chuckling when bringing it up, but ut definitely made Jun-hee trust you a lot more. It was a critical situation she was in and she was glad to have you by her side.

જ⁀➴ You even banged on the door in the middle of the night to make the guards take her to the bathroom when she was to shy to do it herself.

As ths pink guard brought you to the womens bathroom, Jun-hee held onto you, clearly being in pain. A few minutes later, you were washing your hands and tried to fix yourself up, looking a bit disgusted in the mirror. "What is it?" Jun-hee emerged from one of the stalls, chuckling. "Man, I look like a damn zombie. Look what this place has done to us." Instead of getting a reply, you noticed that she was staring at your arms, at your scars. You had taken your jacket off for convenience and kind of forgot about them. "Oh, I'm sor-" Jun-hee interrupted you, "No! No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stared like that!"

જ⁀➴ Obviously everyone had their struggles, but now her own kind of seemed insignificant next to yours. You were doing so much for her and she didn't even know that you were struggling. She should've thought of that.

જ⁀➴ When voicing that thought to you, you felt bad that you made her feel like that. With a hug, it was all sorted out. Jun-hee cared deeply for you and she could tell that you cared for her like that, too. It was nice to know that someone had your back in a place like this.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 5: Byler parallels with Jopper and Lumax

Decided to combine Jopper and Lumax into one post because a lot of them are similar and would actually be more compelling if they were all combined, being that Jopper and Lumax are definitely endgame (they arent in any love triangles or anything)

So again, I'm gonna name the parallel and how intentional it may be. Even if it's not fully intentional as a complete parallel, this still counts as evidence because using the same tropes for Lumax and Jopper as Byler means that they are all romantic.

1. I Lost You

The fact that Byler and Lumax's ones are in the same episode oh my god???? I honestly think this is intentional. While the 'I thought I lost you' thing is common in romantic tropes, to use it for three couples is very much insane and they must have noticed this. Putting the two in the same episode as well..... oh my god

2. Holding Hands

I think that the fact its a parallel is not intentional, but hand holding is just very very common as a romantic trope. It's also the truth that they actually create a separate SHOT for each of these moments too, to signify their importance.

3. A Team

(couldnt find a good screenshot with a caption for byler but there is alt text)

If you want two people to have believable chemistry, you make them work together well. It was never explicitly stated that Jancy were a good team, but you could tell. HOWEVER THIS IS JUST EXPLICIT they are spelling it out for u!!! Mike and El never really work together. They are a couple. But they aren't a team. They don't work together on plans, there's never any back and forth planning (like with byler in s3), and once again, it's never ever acknowledged by either of them that they work well together as a team.

4. On the Bus

Both heart-to-heart scenes use this song behind it:

Oh this is highly highly intentional. You do not just use romantic, TENDER EMOTIONAL music for one couple who are definitely romantic, and then put that in the background of a platonic scene. The creators are literally screaming at u guys here <3 THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ROMANTICCC HELLO

(also both these scenes end with them smiling at the other and they get interrupted by a noise before anything else can happen)

5. We have to kill it

Sorry guys i totally forgot to include this one in the Jancy parallel post but literally fucking LOOK!! This is intentional to me because it is very specific, and if it's an accident that they all want to kill something and the other one agrees, then it still shows that these couples have chemistry because they are on the same page. AND one of them is reassuring the other, foreshadowing that they are gonna be a team in the next season.

Jancy are a team in season 2 after they have this convo in season 1, and Jopper are a team in season 3 after having this convo in season 2. So byler will be a team in season 5.

6. Staying in the Hospital

Honestly this one's just cute, and recontextualises the fact that Mike peers over Will on the bed, and stays by him (even though it doesnt really need recontextualising). The fact that its very romantic and cute for Lumax to do it should mean the exact same thing for Mike to do it.

7. Looking longingly at someone who's pulling away

erm this one is just so clear to me. Not exactly intentional but like- the thing with staring at someone longingly just to have them not look back at you is very slow burn romance. The fact that it's very obvious to ppl that Max is definitely aware of Lucas staring at her, but can't stare back because she's afraid to hurt him/ afraid to show her feelings again definitely parallels Mike too.

Also both Lucas and Max SIGH before going back to what they're doing...

8. TENDER EMOTIONAL MUSIC

so a tender emotional music scene for jopper makes it feel romantic:

Sooooo.... doesn't that mean that it applies for byler too?? Who had it done to them not one, not two, but THREE TIMES IN SEASON 4???

AND LUMAX HAS A SCENE WITH THIS TOO

Thanks for reading yet another long ass post :))) The next ones probably going to be Rovickie parallels because they actually have so many after doing my research so yeah

[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, 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!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 22 - 'I'm Sorry' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.1 k

You sat cross-legged on Trent’s bed, your phone resting limply in your hand as you watched your screen light up. Your phone rang with a call from Layla.  Your thumb hovered over her name, hesitant to answer. It continued to vibrate as you built up your courage.  You answered slowly, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you’d been on for days before her voice came through, soft and careful.

“Alright, babe?” she asked. Her tone alone made your chest tighten. You hesitated for a second, swallowing the lump in your throat before replying. 

“Yeah… uh, actually a little better. I need to see you to explain.” Your voice was small, weak even, but there was a flicker of resolve in it.

“Okay. Better is good,” Layla said gently, but her concern was palpable. There was a brief pause before she continued, almost sheepishly. “Just wanted to see if you saw that invite come through.” You frowned, confused for a moment before remembering the notification you’d ignored earlier. The invite from Shelby—one of your mutual friends—to a Manchester United end-of-season party. You’d skimmed it, immediately feeling your stomach drop at the thought of Josh possibly being there. “I’ll do what you want,” Layla continued, sensing your hesitation. “I imagine all those lads are going. I don’t want you going, obviously…” She expressed but you cut her off, your voice sharper than intended, you didn’t want to ruin the beginning of her summer.  

“Lay, you go. You and Shelbs will have fun. It’s just a big party. I just… I can’t be near—” You paused, your throat tightening at the thought of him. “Josh,” you finally said, his name burning your tongue. “I don’t know… I’m so scared of him, so please just be careful.” You cautioned her. Layla’s inhale was sharp. You could feel her anger brewing through the phone. 

“God, I’m so sorry, babe. I fucking hate him. But seriously, do you want me to come be with you tonight? I’m worried. I’m here for you.” She offered sincerely. You closed your eyes, her offer tempting, but you knew what you needed. You needed to stay put.  

“No, have fun. I… I…” You stuttered, trying to work up the courage to tell her your plans for the night. “I’m with T. I just need to be with him,” you admitted, your voice cracking as emotions began to resurface.

“Oh…” Layla paused, the shock evident in her tone. “So… you’re with him?” She asked curiously but not judgmentally. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, tears stinging your eyes again. “We’re… Or I… I just need to talk to him. Lay, Josh threatened him with a video of us. Somehow he got a video of me and him. It’s a total fucking mess. He said he didn’t hook up with Jess. And I’m terrified, but I just feel safer with him. I can’t go anywhere. I wa- I need to be with him.” You whimpered embarrassed by your dependency on Trent. The ebb and flow of your trust in him was expectedly concerning to your best friend. Layla’s response was immediate, her voice laced with fury. 

“Fucking hell. I’ll kill him.” She snapped imaging Josh’s smug look having a video like that in his possession. She paused when she heard your sharp inhale, realizing she needed to rein it in. “I’m sorry. I know. You are safe with Trent, Y/N. Be with him. He loves you.” She cooed. Her words offered some comfort, but you still felt unsteady and she could sense it. “Should I not…” she started, trailing off, you knew she’d not go tonight if you’d prefer that but it wasn’t what you wanted. 

“No, no, no,” you interjected quickly. “Please, go. It’s not like it’s his party or something. He can’t control everyone.” Layla nodded even though you couldn’t see her, your words sinking in. 

“Okay, but Josh can’t control you either, babe. We’ll handle this. Just be with Trent tonight. Someone who just wants to protect you.” Her voice softened as she reassured you.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Love you. You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime,” Layla said firmly, her support unwavering. When the call ended, the silence in Trent’s room felt deafening, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel entirely alone. Layla believed in you. Trent wanted to protect you. Maybe you could start believing in yourself again, too. The call ended, and you stared blankly at your phone, Layla’s words echoing in your mind: ‘You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime.’ The reassurance was meant to soothe you, but it only amplified the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. You set the phone down on the edge of your bed, your fingers trembling slightly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears creeping back into your eyes, but you closed them tightly, willing yourself to stay composed. It wasn’t working. You leaned forward, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop the flood, but the effort only made the sob that escaped your throat sharper. Everything felt like too much—Josh’s threats, the fear that he still had control, the relief and heartbreak of being with Trent again. It was all tangling inside of you like a knot you couldn’t undo. You got up and made your way to the en-suite of his room in an effort to try to compose yourself before Trent came up for bed. 

The room felt heavy and silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It made the en-suite feel cold, sterile, like it was closing in around you. You sat on the edge of the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. Your reflection stared back at you, pale and tear-streaked, eyes rimmed red. You barely recognized yourself. But then you noticed the earrings. The tiny gold butterfly pinned on your left ear, and the delicate blue one in your right. They shimmered faintly under the bathroom’s light, and your chest tightened. The earrings had been a gift from Trent, a token of the promise you’d made to each other when your relationship had finally begun. He had chosen them because they reminded him of you—fragile yet strong, beautiful, unique. But also your relationship; this evolving thing. Now, though, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you might lose. Your trembling fingers brushed over the butterflies, your heart aching as memories of that morning came flooding back. The way Trent had looked at you when he gave them to you, his voice soft as he told you how much you meant to him. How special you were. You’d been so happy, so sure that he was your safe place in a world that had hurt you too many times. Now, you didn’t know what to believe. You gripped the butterflies tighter, as if they could ground you. For a moment, you thought about taking them out—ripping away the reminder of everything that had fallen apart. But you couldn’t. Something in you refused to let them go. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the way Trent had looked at you earlier in the greenhouse, his eyes full of love and regret, like he’d carry the weight of your pain if he could. Or maybe it was the act that you felt like you got a momentary reminder from your mum there that he was good. You let out a shaky breath and placed your hands on the counter, trying to steady yourself. Slowly, you reached for the tap, splashing cold water on your face. The coolness jolted you back to the present, and you let out a deep exhale, watching the water drip down your reflection. The earrings still caught the light. A tiny flicker of beauty in the midst of your heartbreak. You couldn’t let Josh take this from you. You couldn’t let him win. You grabbed a towel and patted your face dry before turning toward the door. Trent would be waiting for you. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way through this. One fragile step at a time.

That night, as you curled into Trent’s chest, his familiar warmth began to ease the chill that had settled into your bones. His arm was draped securely around you, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. The comfort of his touch usually calmed you, but tonight it wasn’t enough. Fear and worry churned in your chest, refusing to let you rest.

“Baby, I’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice small and trembling. The admission felt heavy, like you were unburdening yourself but also laying bare your vulnerability. Trent’s hand stilled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry I hurt you the other night. I never wanted to.” His apology tugged at your heart, but the knot of fear inside you refused to unravel. 

“He’s going to release it, T,” you said, your words barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. “If he finds out about us, he’ll release it.” Trent’s entire body tensed beneath you. His arm around you tightened, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing within him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and brimming with anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that lad,” he growled, the words cutting through the quiet room like a blade. “I am fucking fuming. I will fucking kill him. He can’t hurt you. He can’t fucking touch you.” His grip on you grew firmer, not out of aggression but out of his overwhelming need to protect you. Yet, in that moment, the intensity of his voice and the pressure of his hold sent you spiraling. Memories of Josh resurfaced like an unrelenting tide—his hands gripping you too tightly, his voice sharp and cruel, his presence suffocating and inescapable. Your breath hitched, and tears began to spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless. Your chest heaved with silent sobs as your body trembled against Trent’s. “Ah, fuck,” Trent muttered, his voice breaking as he realized what was happening. He immediately loosened his hold, his hands moving to cup your face and pull you back slightly so he could see you. “Fuck, pretty girl. Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. C’mere. I got you. I got you.” He wrapped you back into his arms, but this time his touch was featherlight, as if he were afraid of breaking you further. He pressed kiss after kiss into your hair, murmuring apologies and reassurances as you sobbed against his chest. “It’s okay,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here.” His words started to sink in, soothing the jagged edges of your fear. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear grounded you, steadying your breathing and slowing your tears. “What he’s doing is fucking extortion,” Trent muttered after a moment, his tone calmer but still resolute. “He can’t blackmail us. I’m speaking with Ty first thing. We’ll handle it legally. No one is taking my baby away from me. No one. Not now. Promise.” His words carried a sincerity—a vow that he would protect you at all costs. You sniffled, your face still buried in his chest, and nodded weakly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Trent said, pulling back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks on your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You’re my whole world, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I swear it.” You blinked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes anchoring you. His touch, so gentle and steady, reminded you that despite everything, this was the man who loved you unconditionally.

“You promise?” you asked softly, your voice cracking.

“I promise,” Trent said firmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” You exhaled shakily and let yourself melt into his arms again, his embrace wrapping you in a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in days. Despite the chaos that awaited, in this moment, you knew you weren’t alone but you couldn’t fight back the tears. Josh had hurt you too deeply. You were battered and cruises and the cracks in your resilience were starting to show. You were breaking down.

You buried your face deeper into Trent’s chest, your tears soaking through his shirt as you clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His arms wrapped around you firmly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other traced gentle circles on your back. He didn’t speak much more at first, letting you cry. The weight of everything—Josh, the video, the fear, the shame, and even your own complicated feelings about Trent—poured out of you in waves. Each sob tore at his heart. Trent had never felt so helpless. He wanted to take all of it away: the pain, the fear, the scars left by people who should never have been close to you. But he knew he couldn’t. All he could do was hold you through it.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered after a long stretch of silence. Your voice was weak and strained, like the words were dragging out pieces of you as they left your mouth.

“Sorry? For what, baby?” Trent asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they fell, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“For… for being like this,” you whispered, ashamed. You couldn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the fabric of his shirt where your tears had left dark stains. “For being such a mess. For making things so hard.” You kept on trying to rationalize your apology, hoping maybe he'd understand.

“Y/N, stop, serious,” he said gently but firmly, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His eyes were glassy, the tears he’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever apologize for feeling. For hurting. For being human. You’re not a mess, pretty girl. You’re my girl. And I love you, okay? All of you. Every single bit.” The sincerity in his voice broke you all over again, and the tears started fresh. Trent pulled you back into his arms, rocking you slightly as he whispered reassurances. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself trust that someone could hold you through your brokenness, that you didn’t have to hide or pretend. But as the minutes stretched on, the weight of Josh’s threats crept back in, darkening the tiny flicker of hope Trent had sparked in you.

“Baby, no, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “What if Josh does something? I’m serious, what if he releases the video? It would ruin you, T. Your career, your reputation… everything. I don’t know if I could handle that. I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.” Trent’s body tensed beneath you again, and for a moment, you felt the anger radiating off him. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, deliberate.

“Listen to me,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye again. “I told you. I’m gonna speak with Ty, but besides that… I don’t care about a video. I don’t care about my career, or what people think, or any of that. None of it matters if it means losing you. You hear me? You’re all that matters, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” His words were like a lifeline, but they also scared you. The intensity of his love felt like a double-edged sword—comforting and terrifying all at once. You continued to cry into Trent’s chest. It felt like the fear of Josh ran deeper than his comforting embrace. But then you kissed his neck out of instinct. It was impulse. It was something you’d almost trained yourself to do. So many times you’d been upset in tear and had to put them aside for sex. You began kissing his neck. Trent’s body betrayed him. He felt all the blood rush down to his cock. You were turning him on but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you like this. Trent putting his hands on you felt terrifying. He felt like you were glass. He pulled away from you and your heart broke. It was like rejection all over again. Trent studied your face, his heart breaking as he saw the pain written in every inch of you. 

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to understand that.” His words made you freeze. His gaze wasn’t one of anger or frustration—it was pleading, desperate. He wasn’t trying to take anything from you; he was trying to stop you from giving away something you didn’t truly want to share in this moment. Your throat tightened, and a lump of shame built in your chest as the realization hit you. What you were doing wasn’t about love or desire—it was about survival, about falling back into a pattern Josh had ingrained in you. Sex had always been a way to pacify, to distract, to feel needed. Your hands had moved on instinct, exploring Trent as if you could erase the fear in your chest by drawing him closer. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through, baby,” Trent said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. His hands gently caught yours, stopping them in their tracks as he looked into your eyes. “Please. Don’t do this because you think you have to. Not with me.” Trent pleaded, begging you to follow your heart and not your hands exploring him. Your heart shattered. You wanted so badly to bridge the gap between you and him, to feel close to him again. But your mind and your body felt like they were living in two entirely different worlds.

“Please want me,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. Your voice cracked, the vulnerability in those three words raw and exposed. You hated how needy you sounded, but it was the truth. You wanted him to want you, to make you feel something other than the numbness that had taken hold of you. Trent’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. His love for you was at war with his fear of hurting you, but when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, he gave in. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it was what you needed. But as his hands brushed over your skin, the dense thud in your chest grew heavier. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. The love and warmth you always felt when you were with Trent were nowhere to be found. This wasn’t passion; it was a mechanical act, an autopilot response. You were setting him up to take the bait, and he was taking it because he thought it would make you feel better but it felt like he’d lost a game you didn’t want him to even play. Deep down, you both knew this wasn’t what either of you truly wanted. It hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. Trent was nothing like Josh but right now you were acting like he was. 

Without another word, Trent had leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but as soon as you responded, something shifted. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn't bear the space between you. Your fingers tangled in his curls, gripping them as your body arched into his. The kiss deepened, no longer hesitant but filled with an urgency that neither of you could contain. It wasn't just desire-it was need. A desperate, unspoken plea to feel something other than the ache that had settled between you. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced your skin like he was memorizing every inch, every curve. You gasped softly against his lips, and he took the sound as encouragement, his touch growing firmer, more confident. The tension in the room didn't dissipate-it lingered, heavy and unresolved-but it was joined by a different kind of intensity. The sadness and fear were still there, woven into the fabric of your movements, but they were eclipsed by the desperate need to be closer. To lose yourselves in each other, even if just for a moment. The air grew thick, filled with the sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as Trent shifted to press you further into the mattress. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, across your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored your body with reverence.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and strained. "Tell me it's okay."

"I want this," you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. It was all he needed to hear. His lips were back on yours, hungrier this time, his body pressing into yours as if trying to merge you into one. Your hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper. The friction between you sent sparks through your veins, igniting something that had been smoldering for far too long. But even as things grew more heated, there was an undercurrent of something else. A sadness that neither of you could escape. This wasn't just about passion-it was about holding on. About finding some semblance of connection in the middle of the chaos. Trent continued kissing you, his lips moving with deliberate care as he shifted to hover over you, his large frame blanketing yours. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for reassurance even as his hand gently cupped your cheek. His touch was tender, as though you might bruise beneath the weight of his hands, and yet his need to be close to you was palpable. You didn't trust your voice, so you let your actions speak. Moving on instinct, you reached for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Left bare save for the soft fabric of your panties.  "Please." You whispered. Your voice was shaky but filled with yearning. Leaning up, you kissed along his jawline, your lips traveling to the warm column of his neck, nuzzling into his skin before you began to suck gently. Trent froze for a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He took a deep breath, conflicted. He wanted to give you everything, but he also didn't want to push you or himself into something too fragile. Yet the way you clung to him, the way you pleaded, left him wondering if maybe this was how you both could heal. Slowly, tentatively, Trent removed his own clothes. His shirt came off, revealing the toned expanse of his chest, and soon the rest of your garments joined the pile on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was his hands, his lips, his touch that truly burned. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firm muscles under your fingertips, the rapid thrum of his heart. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging gently on the soft curls of his hair. He groaned softly at the sensation, his lips beginning their journey down your neck. He kissed your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake, before traveling lower. When his lips finally closed around your nipple, you let out a desperate moan, arching your back to meet him. The warmth of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his teeth, sent shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your other boob, his fingers playing, pulling, and pinching with just the right amount of pressure. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with emotion, but he didn't stop. He lavished attention on your sensitive skin, his kisses, touches, and the slight rasp of his stubble making you feel electric. You buried your hands in his hair, holding him to you, desperate to keep the connection alive. His hands slid down your sides, rough yet gentle as they traced every curve, as though memorizing every inch of you. When his lips left your chest to continue their descent, you shivered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, the way he worshipped you.

"You okay?" he murmured softly against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. You nodded, biting your lip as tears pricked the corners of your eyes-not from pain but from the sheer vulnerability of it all. 

"Just... don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I've got you," Trent promised, his voice husky, filled with an emotion that made your heart clench. "I've got you, baby. Tell me you want this.” Trent mumbled against your skin. You nodded with a whine as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly begging for him to come inside. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock leaking precum against your sopping wet folds. You shouldn’t have been turned on. In a way this was exactly the way Josh had trained you. Your heart aching, sadness engulfing you, and yet your body acting completely normal, inviting him in with vigor. You shifted beneath him to pick your hips up allowing him to guide himself inside with more ease. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible until he bottomed out. You gripped the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself at the stretch. The feeling was enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than how he was making you feel.  As wrong as it was, you both craved this. He kissed down your neck as he pulled out slightly before easing back in slower, fully burying himself one more.  “I love you so much.” He whispered. Trent rested his forehead against yours but you couldn’t look at him. You felt like you were going to cry so you kept your eyes shut. Your head tipped back onto the pillow with one hand squeezing your own nipple as Trent kept his strokes steady. You tipped your head back further as his pace became more relentless. Your jaw slack, eyes closed tight. 

“I love you.” You whimpered with a sniffle as a tear rolled down your cheek. Trent swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He cupped your cheek wiping away the tear. 

“I’m here. Right here.” He murmured. He knew you didn't want to stop. You would’ve been more upset if he did. So you continued on. There was no other noise in the room but the sound of heartbreak and your slickness as he fucked his cock slowly and gently into you. Your legs stayed wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back, making sure he didn’t pull out but your tears continued falling, your body shaking a little. If anyone else did this he would be confused and probably turned off but he understood you, he understood the lustful desire and unfortunately the aching pain in your chest that he was feeling too. He leaned over you, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest pressed against him as he continued to fucked you gently. Your pussy dripped around him. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher. 

“T... I’m… I’m going to cum” You mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name sounding so weak from your softly parted lips. He groaned, feeling himself barreling close to his own release though from the way you were squeezing his cock now. Your body succumbing to pure euphoria and seeing white. He bit down onto your shoulder, his pace growing sloppy. 

“Cum for me baby. Doing so good for me.” he cooed, nipping at your collarbone. You whined and felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. Your pussy quivered around him.  Every little shift was orgasmic. You couldn’t hold in the soft whiny cry you let out. Your lips parted, biting the skin of his neck. Your pussy was sopping wet now, the slow and intense movements had you gushing all over him. The sex was so tender and sweet yet equally sad. “Gonna cum, yeah? That okay?” He asked you through a strained voice as you held onto him. You could only nod again, tears reappearing, toes curled before everything went white, falling apart. Despite the emotional turmoil, he felt so good and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His thrusts began to slow as he buried himself deeper inside you. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. Stilling as his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands rubbed your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way. He kissed you everywhere he could. You just stayed tight to him refusing to break away.  “You alright, baby?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and full of concern as he hovered over you. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, his thumb catching a stray tear. His dark eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your cheeks were flushed, your lips trembling, and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if holding back a flood. You nodded quickly, unable to trust yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, and you knew that if you tried to answer him, your voice would crack, betraying just how fragile you felt in this moment. The weight of everything—of your past, your pain, and the overwhelming tenderness of the man above you—pressed against your chest. Trent’s brow furrowed, his concern deepening as he leaned closer. “Baby,” he urged gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, your fingers curling around his wrist as his hand remained on your cheek. It was your silent plea to stay close, to not pull away. “I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his own emotions. His thumb continued to stroke your cheek, grounding you. “I’ve got you, yeah? Always.” Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears slipping from your closed eyes. You hated feeling this vulnerable, hated that you couldn’t hide the rawness inside you, but Trent’s presence made it bearable. His love wrapped around you like a shield, softening the sharp edges of your fear and sadness. Finally, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression was so full of love and patience that it broke something inside you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice barely audible but nonetheless broken. Trent stayed on top of you, his weight grounding you even as the guilt began to creep in. His breathing was still heavy, matching yours, and his curls tickled your skin as he rested his face between your boobs, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin. The room was quiet save for the sound of your heartbeats slowing, the intensity of the moment dissipating into an uncomfortable stillness. Neither of you spoke any more after your vacant apology. There were no words for the complicated knot of emotions tightening in your chest. For a while, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair, but even that small gesture felt hollow. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't resolution. Eventually, Trent stirred, his lips brushing against your collarbone in a fleeting touch. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name-sadness, maybe, or regret. Without a word, he shifted, carefully pulling out of you, his body leaving yours cold in the absence of his warmth. The air completely sucked out of the room. He rolled off of you and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything hung heavy in the room, pressing down on both of you, suffocating in its intensity. The physical high you'd just shared only amplified the emotional low settling between you. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his profile-the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

"T," you whispered, your voice soft but strained. He didn't respond right away. His hand came up to rub over his face, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. 

"I'm so sorry." He murmured into the empty silence of the dark room.

"For what?" you asked, your own guilt weighing heavily on you.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely between you but he didn’t turn his head towards you, his gaze stayed fixated on the ceiling. "For not stopping. For letting it happen when I knew... when I knew it wasn't what you needed right now." He sheepishly told you. Your heart ached at his words because they felt true, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to regret it fully. He was not Josh, he didn’t want what just happened. Not like that. It felt wrong. Josh relished in using you for sex to rectify problems, to act like he cared, but all you did was just create a new one with Trent. He was hurting.

"I asked for it, T. I wanted it." You earnestly told him. That was true. You did want it, but why and what for, was a glaringly obvious reg flag. A remnant of Josh’s disgusting conditioning. The only way he could possibly love you was if you fucked hin, and so you did the same with Trent. It was fucked up. You watched him blink a few times, his perfectly curled dark eyelashes batting away what you prayed wasn’t the build up of tears. Even though he wouldn’t turn to look at you, you could still perfectly make out that his eyes were filled with turmoil. 

"But did you need it? Did it help, or did it just... make things worse?" He asked you pleadingly. He knew you wanted to have sex with him. It wasn’t about the consent of the act but rather the consciousness of it. The question hung in the air, and you didn't have an answer. You both laid there with the other, the silence between you louder than any words could be. Neither of you could shake the feeling that you'd both taken a step further away from the connection you were trying so hard to hold onto. The room fell silent for a long while after that. Trent lay motionless, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his mind raced. The dim light cast shadows on the ceiling, but his eyes were unable to focus. He couldn’t wrap his head around the blur between the physical sensations still humming through his body and the weight of the emotional aftermath sinking into his heart. He couldn't reconcile it-how his body could feel one thing, while his heart ached with the opposite. His arms rested limply at his sides, too heavy to move. The thin sheen of sweat cooling on his skin only made him feel exposed, raw. Tears welled in your eyes, and you turned your head away momentarily, unable to look at him anymore. You felt defeated, ashamed, and more alone than ever-even with him right next to you.

"T.." Your voice broke through the thick silence once over, soft but trembling. He hummed in response, his throat dry. But he didn't turn his head to look at you still. He couldn't not yet. Guilt clawed at his chest, despite everything. You asked for this yet it felt cold. You wanted it. He hadn't forced you-but why did it feel like he'd done something wrong? "Did you love her?" you whispered, your voice so small it almost disappeared into the air between you. The question hit him like a blow. He blinked, the ceiling above him suddenly too sharp, too vivid. He exhaled sharply but still didn't meet your gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he was overwhelmed-confused, emotional, and drowning in a wave of guilt and frustration. You couldn't stop yourself. You stared at him, inspecting every detail of his face. The way his bottom lip hung slightly gaped from the top, the tense line of his jaw, the crease in his brow. He laid there feeling hollow despite his best efforts to help. You needed to understand him, to break past the wall he seemed to be building in this silence. The insecurity was clawing at your insides, threatening to consume you. Your past haunted you and right now it was seeping into your present. The way Josh had rewired you to think all men were, had you fearing Jess. She was the ghost in the room you couldn't escape. All you could think about was her-her presence in Trent's life before you, the ways she might have had touched him, been with him, loved him. You hated it. Your thoughts spiraled into a desperate need to prove yourself to him, to make him see why you were different. Why you were better. You'd done everything-fought for him, forgiven him, fucked him, even begged him. You wanted to show him that you would do anything for him. But now, as you lay beside him, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. The act that was supposed to bring you closer had only widened the gap, leaving both of you in the cold. This was new to you because this time, the man next to you in bed truly cared.  Finally, Trent turned his head to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, a storm of emotions swirling in them-confusion, sorrow, regret.

“Never.” Trent finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the only other sound were the sheets shifting beneath you pillowing his words. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, really look at him. Trent’s hand stilled on your cheek as your words lingered in the air, cutting through the fragile peace between you. His chest rose sharply with a deep, steadying breath, but the storm brewing behind his soft brown eyes betrayed him. “Not even close,” he repeated, his voice firm but strained, as if clinging desperately to the truth of his feelings. His thumb brushed against your skin, grounding himself in the contact, but you could feel the tension in his hold—the way he was barely keeping it together. “Look at me,” he whispered, tilting your face gently so your eyes met his. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to retreat further, even though every instinct told you to. You wanted to hide, to shield yourself from how raw, how real this moment was becoming. But in a moment of vulnerability… you felt yourself pull away from him. You knew Trent was different. This was different. You couldn’t fix things or gain anything by using sex as a bandaid like you did with Josh, not when real feelings were at play and so the only thing you could do was set it on fire in an effort to protect yourself. 

“Did you ever think that maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together?” you asked, the words falling from your lips without forethought, sayinging something you didn’t even think about. It wasn’t what you wanted to say. It wasn’t what you felt deep down. But it was easier to let those words fill the space than to confront the fear twisting inside you. Trent flinched as if you’d struck him. His blood going ice cold. He didn’t know how to convince you this was right when in the moment you were making it feel so very wrong. You were hurting but now so was he. Trent really thought when he just turned to look at you things would be better, not worse. It was quiet. The silence of the room was deafening. His hand faltered for a moment before settling back on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant. 

“Why would you say that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the heavy stillness in the room. You swallowed hard, your throat burning with unshed tears. His jaw tightened and he shut his eyes and you watched his eyelashes lay on his cheek for a moment longer than comfortable, shielding himself from the hurt; as if he was bracing for impact and so you took the final blow. 

“You said you didn’t want to take advantage…” you whispered, your voice cracking. It wasn’t what you meant, not really, but you knew the weight of those words would land, and you hated yourself for using them. You didn’t mean it but you knew what you were doing. You didn’t know why you were doing it but it was happening nevertheless. You were letting this relationship go up in flames with an ease you loathed. An ease Josh made you have and now you were letting the flames engulf Trent with you. Trent’s eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with disbelief. He searched your face as if trying to find some hint that you didn’t mean it, that this was all a misunderstanding. The weight of the night settled heavily between you. It was unbearable, suffocating, like the air had been vacuumed out of the room. You both laid completely still. You felt like you were tearing down the house you’d built together—stripping it bare, brick by brick, without even meaning to. Ripping the walls out, slashing the pipes and yet only his silence and heartbeat made a sound. There was no shouting, no anger, no big crash. Just the quiet dismantling of something fragile, something that felt too precious to lose but too painful to hold onto in the moment. His silence pierced through you, and yet, it wasn’t cold—it was sorrowful, the kind of quiet that spoke volumes about his own inner turmoil. Trent's hand, which had dropped to rest on your arm, tightened slightly on your arm, his heart aching at the sound of your pain. 

“If you feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Trent finally whispered, his voice raw and achingly soft, “if you feel like I’m in control of this in a way that you’re not… we can’t do this. I won’t.” His hand on you withdrew slowly. It wasn’t harsh, but it left a hollow ache in its absence, as though he were pulling back to keep from causing more damage. There it was. The white flag you indirectly and subconsciously pushed him to raise. He was defeated. He couldn’t win. He felt powerless. He felt so awkward. Like if he touched you again it would change your perspective but if he didn’t it would do just the same. You had dismantled something so quietly, so swiftly. He exhaled deeply, his breath shaky, like he was trying to keep himself from crumbling entirely. It felt like there were worlds between you to now, when in reality it was mere inches but as the night engulfed the room, Trent moved from facing you onto his back creating a distance that felt like something you may never be able to close. Trent’s words hung in the air like the faint echo of a storm, their quiet weight pressing down on you as he pulled away. The warmth of his hand left your skin, replaced by an emptiness that seemed to seep into the space between you. His quiet resolve settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. You had spent so long trying to survive, to appease, to navigate a world where love meant control and touch often felt like an obligation. And yet, here he was—letting you go, even if it broke him. Trent’s restraint wasn’t rejection; it was love. It was understanding. But it hurt all the same. 

“I’ve only ever been in love once… I’ll only ever be in love once. And that��s with you.” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His voice cracked slightly, and the sound shattered you. Your heart clenched painfully at his confession. The vulnerability in his words was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You stared at his profile, the way his lashes rested against his cheek when he blinked, the tension in his jaw as he tried to steady himself. “Just… take your time,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost inaudible. And then, with the finality of someone who had resigned themselves to the pain, he rolled over, his head resting on his pillow. You watched him, the way he clutched the pillow beneath his head as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His back was to you now, and it felt like a wall you couldn’t scale, no matter how much you wanted to reach for him. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered again, so softly you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as the night overtook the room. Trent wasn’t like Josh. He wasn’t trying to control you or force you into anything. But in that moment, the weight of your past, the weight of your fears, was too much for either of you to carry alone. And as he lay there, quiet and still, you realized just how much you had both been hurt in ways neither of you fully knew how to heal. You watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath, steady but strained. It wasn’t just awkwardness you felt—it was guilt, raw and biting, clawing at your chest. You wanted to speak, to reassure him, to take back the words you didn’t even mean, but your throat felt like it had closed up.in an effort to save yourself you had somehow managed to cut off the only thing that was keeping you alive. Trent had let you go, the chasm in the bed now was too much to breach. The silence between you was deafening, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the night filtering in through the window. It was strange how a room could feel so full of unspoken emotions yet so achingly empty at the same time.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room that felt at odds with the tension between you. The quiet was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that held so much unsaid. Despite the turmoil of the night before, your bodies had instinctively found each other, seeking comfort in a way words couldn’t offer. You’d spent hours wrapped around one another, as if letting go would mean accepting what neither of you wanted to face. Trent’s arms had stayed around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you even as your mind raced. The morning finally had arrived, it felt like an unspoken truce, a shared understanding that this moment, however fleeting, couldn’t last. You stayed in bed longer than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on both of you. Trent’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, and neither of you spoke, afraid to shatter the fragile peace. When you finally sat up, the loss of his touch was immediate and jarring.

Getting dressed felt mechanical. Each movement slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the inevitable goodbye. By the time you made your way downstairs, the air between you had shifted. You could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. At the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle. Your throat was tight, the words you wanted to say lodged somewhere deep inside. 

“T…” you whispered, your voice trembling. He was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on a spot just beyond you. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear you—he was trying to hold himself together, to keep from begging you to stay, from saying something that might push you further away. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with emotion. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. 

“I… I just want to say thank you. For… for last night.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It was all you could say. What had transpired last night couldn’t be encapsulated in a sentence or two. Your feelings for him, the hurt you felt would fill volumes and so you settled for a thank you. Trent shifted, his body tensing as if he was fighting every instinct to close the space between you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just… I just want you to be okay.” You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I don’t know what okay looks like right now,” you admitted, your voice breaking. He took a cautious step towards you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he replied, his words careful, measured. The pet name hurt. He sympathetically smiled at you but it was insincere. His heart was in pieces, shattered on the floor right next to yours. “But you know I’m here, right? No matter what… I’m here.” His words broke something in you, and you glanced back at him, finally meeting his eyes. He was being mature and understanding and it hurt. The depth of his care, his pain, and his love was laid bare, and it was almost too much to bear.

“I know,” you whispered, tears welled up in your eyes, ready to spill over. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be loved like this. I’m just so sorry I’m hard to love,” you confessed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  “I don’t know how to feel safe and not push you away when I do.” You whimpered as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Trent’s jaw tightened, his heart breaking as he watched you crumble in front of him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling you into him. His arms enveloped you, one circling your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. You pressed your face into his chest, your tears dampening his shirt but he didn’t care, not one bit. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer every ounce of his love and reassurance. 

“You are the easiest girl to love, pretty girl. And I will love you in whatever way and any way you need me to love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. His grip tightened slightly, as though he was memorizing the feel of you in his arms, just in case it would be the last time. “Forever, it’s you,” he murmured, his words so soft they were almost lost in the quiet of the room. “Just please know that will never change, no matter what you decide you want.” Your breath hitched and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed by his words, by the way he loved you so unconditionally. 

“I love you,” you whimpered, the words breaking as they left your lips. He closed his eyes, his own tears threatening to fall as he held you. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispered back, rocking you gently as you cried. “And that’s enough for me.”

The house was alive with chaos—a sea of bodies swaying to deafening music, flashing lights bouncing off the walls in a kaleidoscope of color. Conversations were drowned out by the thrum of bass, laughter spilling over in waves as the party hit its peak. Layla stood in the center of it all, a drink in hand, but her focus was fractured. Her chest felt tight, as if a weight pressed against it, the absence of you palpable. You weren’t here, and while you’d told her to have fun, it didn’t feel right. Still, she pushed through. You needed her to, even if she didn’t fully understand why. Fifteen songs later and five drinks deeper, Layla felt the alcohol warm her insides, dulling some of her guilt but sharpening her resolve. She scanned the room, her sharp eyes skipping over familiar faces until they landed on Devon, standing by the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, smirking as he caught her gaze. Josh wasn’t here yet—or at least, she hadn’t spotted him—but Devon would have to do. He was Josh’s friend, and as much as Layla disliked him by association, he was her best shot at getting answers. He was handsome, she was hot, they’d met a few times before and maybe there might’ve been some chemistry there but really there was only one reason driving Layla that night. She didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use him.

Their banter had started easily enough, a few playful comments traded back and forth. Devon leaned in close, his lips hovering near her ear as if he had to compete with the music, but Layla knew it was more than that. He was testing the waters, his hand brushing hers just lightly enough to be suggestive.

“I think we’re crossing enemy lines here,” he teased, his voice low and full of charm. Layla smirked, meeting his gaze with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. 

“I’ll cross any line you want,” she whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against his cheek. “But let me borrow your phone first. I just need to text my friend before we leave.” Devon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the bait was too tempting to resist. He handed over his phone without hesitation, his smirk deepening. 

“Make it quick, yeah?” he said, his tone dripping with suggestion. Layla turned on her heel, spinning away with a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. Devon’s gaze stayed glued to her as she made her way toward the hallway, phone in hand, pretending to type. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, but as soon as she rounded the corner, her facade dropped. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating his phone with practiced ease. She scrolled through messages, DMs, and photos, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for anything—any hint, any clue that could tie Devon or Josh to what had happened to you. She dug deeper and deeper, her frustration mounting as nothing turned up. She huffed, leaning against the wall. The blue light of the phone screen illuminated her features in the dark hallway, casting shadows under her eyes that betrayed her exhaustion. Layla was starting to second-guess her plan as the party raged around her. The house felt suffocating, the music thundering through her chest as if it was synced to her racing heartbeat. Layla was so invested in her hunt she barely noticed Devon coming to lean lazily against the wall beside her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her hold his phone.

“You find what you’re looking for, or are you just trying to steal my playlist?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. Layla forced a playful laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder to buy herself a moment. Her fingers worked quickly, scrolling out of his apps and messages, trying to stay one step ahead of Devon’s curiosity.

“I’m just making sure you’re not boring,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a slight edge of distraction. Devon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Trust me, babe, I’m anything but boring.” He cooed. Layla ignored his cocky response. Devon noticed her change in demeanor, his smirk fading as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “You alright?” he asked, his tone shifting slightly to one of genuine concern. Layla forced a smile again and handed his back to him as casually as she could. 

“Just had to make sure my girls know I’m with you. Don’t want them thinking I’ve disappeared.” She cooed, turning into him. Devon grinned, clearly pleased with her response. 

“Disappeared, huh? I’ll make sure you stay right where I can see you.” He leaned into her pinching at her waist. She giggled swatting at his hand with a sloppy smile. Maybe it was the alcohol, but a part of her kind of wanted to actually go home with Devon. She didn’t find anything incriminating, he was sort of sweet and definitely handsome. Her mind was racing though, the threads were unraveling, but the knot at the center was still tied too tightly. She needed to find out more. She was committed for you… and maybe there was a little bit in it for her now. So she played along, laughing at Devon’s jokes and letting him guide her through the crowded house. Her focus drifting from being laser-sharp, every glance, every word a calculated move with intent to something a bit looser.  She’d come here for answers, and she knew Devon had to know something so maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn’t hurt. 

The soft hum of Devon’s snores filled the dimly lit bedroom. Layla sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him, and slipped his phone from the bedside table. Her pulse quickened as she padded to the en-suite bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she shut it behind her. She pressed her back to the wall and sank to the floor with a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone. Devon had been easy to charm, he actually wasn’t so bad, nice in fact, but what she held in her hand right now would tell her the harsh reality, what he really knew. 

The room was dark, the blue light burning her eyes as she scrolled in Devon’s phone, sat on the floor. Scrolling through his messages again Layla’s breath became unsteady, uneven. Her pulse quickened as she skimmed through group chats and threads. Still, there was nothing that immediately jumped out as damning. She finally decided to go back to Devon’s messages with Josh, her hands trembling slightly. The messages were cryptic as she delved deeper. It felt like she was missing something, a part of their puzzle, so she continued to scroll. She almost didn’t want to find more context, even the thought made her stomach churn but she had to do this. Her grip tightened on the phone as she scrolled faster, reading more and more messages. Her eyes darted over the screen, piecing together fragments of a conversation. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. But just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye—an attachment buried deep in their thread of texts. Layla’s vision blurred with anger and panic. She shut her eyes tight. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. There it was: a screenshot of an Instagram DM from Jess to Josh, and then, her stomach dropped—the video attached. The video of you. You, on your knees for Trent, vulnerable in a way that made Layla’s blood run cold. She felt sick.  Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped her lips as tears stung her eyes. The room felt heavier than the silence that followed. Layla sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the dim blue light of the phone casting ghostly shadows on her face. She couldn’t stop trembling. The weight of what she’d seen, and what it meant, pressed down on her like a tidal wave.

“You really are interested in my phone, huh? Find anything good?” Devon’s tired voice shattered the silence, making her jump. Layla turned, looking up at him, fumbling the phone as she tried to recover. 

“Fuck… I was just—” She stumbled out words.  Devon leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was far too calm for her liking. He had a sleepy smile that was handsome but it couldn’t mask what was on his phone. 

“You find that screenshot of the video Jess sent?” he asked, his tone softer than she expected. He smirked but not smugly. He smirked in a way that was sympathetic. His eyebrows raised as if he himself couldn’t even believe he had seen what she sent. He assumed that's what she was looking for. It was really the only thing that tied him and Layla together. The only reason they knew one another. Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise though that he knew it existed at all and still had the audacity to try to be with her.

“So Jess actually sent that... and you've seen it?” Layla asked again, her voice cracking. She needed him to confirm it—needed him to say it out loud so it felt real. Devon sighed, running a hand over his hair, his expression torn between guilt and discomfort. He shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit beside her. 

“I haven't seen it, no. But. yeah… she sent it to Josh. I don’t know why. Guess she wanted to stir shit up.” He cooed gently looking only at Layla, not his phone that she currently was planning on holding ransom until she got answers. Layla glared at him, her chest heaving with frustration. 

“You’re lying.” Her voice wavered, sharp and accusing. 

“Look, baby, I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m keeping my hands clean. I don’t want any part of it.” Devon tried to explain his arm reaching out towards her knee but Layla winced at the pet name. Her eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over. 

“Well, you are playing a part, Devon. You know Josh has that video—of Y/N and Trent, two people in a relationship, in love—and he’s using it to blackmail them. That makes you complicit.” She harshly bit back. He paused for a moment. He didn’t know you and Trent were a couple, let alone in love. He saw you at dinner once, but people go on dates all the time. The only things he heard were from Josh’s perspective. And in his opinion you weren’t allowed to be with Trent. In fact, you wanted Josh instead.

“I didn’t know they were properly together,” Devon muttered, his voice quieter now, guilt flashing across his face. 

“They shouldn’t have to be,” Layla snapped, shoving the phone back into his hands. Her tears were threatening to spill over now, her emotions a tangled mess of fury and heartbreak. “And they fucking can’t be if he has this. This is fucked up, Devon. You’re letting him ruin someone’s life, and you just sit back like it’s nothing? I don’t understand how you can be okay with that.” She whimpered.  Devon winced, the weight of her words visibly sinking in. He leaned back against the cold wall, his hands rubbing his face. 

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You’re right,” he whispered finally. Layla sniffled trying to keep herself together. She was aching for you. “I should’ve done something, stopped it. I just… I didn’t want to get involved. It’s Josh, you know? I mean yeah, I see him a lot, were on the same squad but I try not to fuck with him too much.” Devon weakly tried to explain. Layla’s tears started to spill, her voice growing more impassioned. 

“She’s my best friend, Devon! Do you even understand what this is doing to her? He’s blackmailing her. That video—it’s not just some stupid gossip. It could ruin everything for them… For Trent. And you’re just sitting here pretending like you’re not part of it? Like imagine if someone had a video of you and sent it to the fucking media… Because that's what he's doing. People's private relationship being broadcasted publicly and used to hurt them. Imagine what they feel right now that people like you even have fucking screenshots of this.” Layla yelped with a little more force. Devon sat still, the seriousness of her words bearing down on him. 

“I… I didn’t know it was like that. I didn’t think about it that way,” he said softly. Layla’s comment had landed. Devon felt stupid. He didn’t really know nor care for Trent, they played for rival clubs too after all, but the sentiment still stood. He understood this wasn't the little tiff he dubbed it to be before. He realized what Josh was threatening Trent with. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, some drama between exes that didn’t involve me. I didn’t… I didn’t think of how damaging it could be.” Devon spoke earnestly.

“It is,” Layla shot back, wiping her tears angrily. “And if you care at all…” She shook her head and took a deep breath attempting to compose herself. “You know, maybe about me.” She said unexpectedly to even herself. Maybe she had developed more feelings for Devon then she realized or maybe she was using it as leverage- she couldn't decide but she didn’t care, that wasn't the focus right now. You were. “Or just being a fucking good person and do the right thing, you need to help me fix this.” She pleaded. Devon looked at her, his liable gaze meeting her hurt one. For a moment, it was just the two of them illuminated only by the dim phone screen, the air between them thick with tension. “Devon, you know he hurt her right?” she looked at him curiously. Devon’s eyes narrowed. He looked confused and a part of Layla prayed it was honest innocence. She hoped maybe Devon wasn’t bad. That this was an indiscretion and he was nothing like Josh. If he knew, she could never forgive him. In fact, she’d kill him. “He abused her. The way he spoke to her… Fuck! The texts I’d see that he’d send her. She’d have cuts and bruises all the time… Did you know that?” Layla weakly asked him as tears coursed down her cheeks. 

“No.” Devon responded flatly. He swallowed feeling sick. He didn’t know any of that. He shut his eyes for a moment and then cleared his throat. “He can’t do that. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do? What can I do, Layla?” He asked finally, his voice resigned but sincere. Layla straightened, her jaw tight as she wiped the last of her tears. 

•

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

Next part - Chapter 23 xx

[solaiced]

it’s mating cuffing season!

cw: hybrid geto, mating, geto in heat, breeding, not really sub geto, also slight dub-con, piv, reader is cisfem, and creds to yerchokito for the hybrid ideas (im ur biggest fan)

solace: surprise and happy new year late.

cat!suguru, who you found shivering at a nearby temple. you brought him home, determined to help him, even though he was fighting you every step of the way.

cat!suguru who you loved with every crevice of your heart, knowing he’d eventually love you too.

cat!suguru who slowly gave up trying to ward you off, wrapping his tail around your wrist or ankle whenever he could.

cat!suguru who loves to sleep on your chest and meows until you crack if he doesn’t get to sleep there.

cat!suguru who’s actually a fox. you were wondering why he was growing to be so long, have such pointed ears and such an elongated maw. his tail, once completely bare, had long, shaggy fur now. but it’s weird. shouldn’t foxes be… orange? or white, depending on their region? why was he black?

fox!suguru who will /not/ be taken away no matter what. who cares if he’s a rare breed of fox? no one will get his claws out of your skin. he’ll yowl and cry if anyone other than you holds him.

fox!suguru who hates going to the vet because there’s a fucking snow leopard there who won’t stop pawing him and they get into fights all the time.

fox!suguru who you named purple because of the light reflecting on his fur.

fox!suguru who you discovered was a human when you came out of the shower and discovered a naked man with long black hair, ears and a tail that matched (all three meticulously groomed), a purple collar (with suguru’s name on it, also too tight for his neck) around his throat who was sitting diligently on your bed. where your pet was supposed to be sat at.

“what the fuck.” is all you said, gripping the towel around your body with sheer fear.

“hi.” he shyly waved, half of his hair covering his face, like he was shameful.

so, fox!suguru who turns out to be human!suguru explained his situation (all after calming you down and assuring you he was, in fact, suguru, proving it by telling you that you have a mole under your left asscheek… weird, but he’s the only one who knew as you changed when he was in the room when he was a fox), from the world of sorcerers, to curses, to what made him become a fox.

“so, how did you…become human again?” you asked, now dry but still covering up with your towel.

“i have no idea. maybe because my cursed energy replenished fully, or i felt comfortable… but either way, thank you for taking care of me. you truly didn’t have to.” suguru blushed, looking down at his lap, that you had covered with a pillow.

“i mean, with how loud you were, someone else less patient would’ve killed you, so i had to.” you smirked, leaning toward him, “also, i couldn’t have let you out into the wild, you were too stuck to me.” his tail hit the mattress like he was distressed, and his ears flopped.

“i‘m really, truly sorry,” he whined, facing away from you.

you put your hand on his shoulder, smiling the way you would if he was still… well, a fox.

“it’s fine. it’s not i minded, anyway. i liked the company.” you weren’t lying, you were kinda dying of loneliness.

“i’m glad you did. now, i’ll… leave. thank you for keeping me, feeding me and taking care of me, i guess. i owe you, now.” suguru sighed, turning to you.

“oh, you don’t need to—“

“once i find my phone, you can call me anytime, anywhere and i’ll be there, and i’ll help you.” he was already writing his number on your hand, holding it gently in his.

“oh.” you flushed, blood rushing to your cheeks. it’d been months since a man even touched you with no bad intentions.

“u-um, suguru,” you prompted once he was done.

“yes?”

“why don’t you stay a bit more? i’ll buy you clothes so you can go out without any weird looks.” it would be weird, some random man, naked with weird ears and a tail.

his tail flicked behind him, you learned that that meant he was interested, but his ears twitching compromised that.

“i don’t think i should overstay my welcome—“

“please.” you cut him off, hand in his.

suguru sighed again, nodding. “it would be nice to be lazy a bit more. you’re sure you’re not doing this out of obligation, yes?” you nodded happily, seems the pet distribution system understood the assignment. and gravity hated you.

“your towel.” suguru pointed to your very exposed chest, shameless in his staring.

the next day, you went out and bought him clothes, cooked for him, and pampered him the way you would an actual pet, which he complained about.

“please, i can do this myself, i don’t want to impose on you.” suguru leaned down, face to face with you.

you flushed, smiling nervously, “i just want you to be comfortable.”

“i know, thank you. but please, let me do one thing in the house so i can repay you.” his ears flopped, and it was so cute you had to touch them, rub them and scratch behind. just like before. he moaned, knees buckling like he was literally liquifying.

you gasped at the sound, and suguru pulled away abruptly, straightening.

“no, wait, come back, your ears are fluffy.” you reached up, on your tippy toes, yet you couldn’t reach them.

“no, this… this was a mistake. i need to go.” he scrambled away, tail wrapped around his own thigh.

“sugu…” you huffed, wrapping a hand around his wrist to stop him. “please stay. i’m really lonely, y’know?” looking down in shame, you knew he might not even bat an eye at your ‘problem’.

“i…” suguru started, faltering when he sees the look in your eye. “it’s not like the jujutsu society will accept me back.” he muttered lowly as he exhales.

“um… what?” you’re confused, rightfully, but… what the hell is he talking about?

“nothing. if… if it doesn’t bother you… may i stay until further notice?” he looked embarrassed while he talked, but you’re very happy that he agreed.

“yes! please stay!” you excitedly jumped into his arms and hug him tightly.

“woah..!” suguru stumbles backwards but manages to catch you, automatically wrapping an arm around you and putting his left one under your ass.

you dropped down, managing a nervous chuckle.

“sorry, got a little too excited.” you apologized shyly.

“it’s fine. it’s been a long time since i even had a hug.” he smiled, and you realize, he still looks like a fox with it.

and that’s how you got a roommate. suguru has been here for about two months and you’ve never been so happy for days upon days consecutively. you celebrated christmas and new years together, drinking the worried away happily.

you’re now laying on the couch, lounging around, waiting for suguru to return home from the grocery store. your eyelids feel heavy, and before you know it, you’re falling asleep, snuggled up in his sweater. even though it was mid-january, it was still chilly enough to wear two layers under a blanket.

“i’m home.” suguru’s tired and breathy voice pierced through your sleepy haze.

“welcome home…” you yawn, stretching and flicking the blanket off of you.

his eyes zero in on his sweater, narrowing.

“did you get everything?” you get up, oblivious to the stare.

he takes off his bonnet and frees his twitching ears. he lifts his sweater after taking off his coat, revealing a tiny teensy bit of skin to let his tail loose. “yeah. but the usual brand of milk we get was out of stock so i bought the other one, hope that’s okay.”

“oh no, yeah it’s fine. c’mere.” with your hands outstretched behind you, you bend backwards over the couch’s back rest and make grabby hands at him.

suguru walks toward you, waist fitting your hand perfectly as he leans on the couch.

you flip over, facing him correctly, “i wish there was a way to hide your ears and tail when you go out. because these,” you rub the tips, causing him close his eyes in satisfaction, “are for me to see. only me, okay?” you joke, scratching behind the fluff.

“mhm…” he pushes his head in your hands, almost purring.

later, when both of your bellies were full and the tv show you watch every week comes on, suguru lays his head on top of your lap, enjoying the attention you gave to his furry parts.

he laughed tiredly at one of the jokes while your hands carded through his silky hair.

“what do you wanna do tomorrow?” you detangle a knot with gentle fingers as you ask him.

“i don’t know.” he shrugs, then looks up at you. “how about we just stay in? i don’t think i’ll feel energetic enough.” you chuckled.

“energy? who’s that?” and suguru chuckled back, squeezing your thigh.

“so, stay in tomorrow?”

“let’s stay in.”

you kept your word, sleeping until the late hours of the afternoon. but when you woke up and went to kitchen, you didn’t see suguru. weird, considering he wakes up very early naturally. so, you head to his room, knocking softly, in case he was still sleeping, but you still wanted to see if he was home.

a low groan answers your knock.

“you okay, sugu?” the nickname rolls off your tongue easily, like you were addressing an old friend.

however, instead of answering, suguru just throws something against the door, making you yelp.

“suguru?” you open the door with great effort, and, much to your surprise, it wasn’t an object that hit the door. no, it was far worse. it was suguru himself.

“oh god, suguru, what happened—?!” the mass that once was your roommate leaps onto you, sending you tumbling on the bedroom floor.

suguru’s hair tickles your face as he scans it with dilated pupils. he looked bloodthirsty, teeth sharp, shown by his open mouth.

“you’re finally here. i need… i need you. now.” he growls, hot breath hitting your face.

“what are you talking about— suguru!” you yell when he drags you to his bed, throwing you like a rag doll, like you weighed nothing, bouncing on the mattress.

“need…” he pauses to pant like he just ran a marathon. “need to mate.” mate?! is he going insane?!

“w-what do you mean ‘mate’? are you okay?” you ask again, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. gosh, it was burning. “i think you have a fever, sugu—“

he cuts you off with his explicit behavior, biting your wrist.

“suguru, what are you doing?” you sigh, figuring he was just pranking you.

suguru doesn’t respond, only rips, yes rips your shirt in half. and, knowing you didn’t wear bras to sleep, attacked your nipples until they hardened.

“suguru!” you should push him off. you seriously should. this isn’t appropriate.

.

.

.

who says you can’t fuck your roommate?

certainly not you. suguru is on top of you, suckling on your nipples like a newborn, humping your thigh like an animal. well, he is an animal, but this is basically your wet dreams, intensified by a thousand. and it wasn’t a dream.

“i need you.” he huffs on the hickey he created, sending shivers down your spine. “want you…” suguru trails his clawed fingers down your navel, stopping where your pants met your skin and pulling them down to press down on your panty-clad pussy. “here.”

your cheeks heat up, hands grasping at the sheets, “don’t just say that…”

“but it’s true. and i can feel you throbbing. you want it too, right? please tell me you do.” his rough tongue flattens against your core, and you could feel it dragging through the fabric.

“sugu—!” you push his head away reflexively when he reached your clit, making you jerk. he groans, forcing his face back in between your legs.

“don’t. you can’t take me without this.” he doesn’t waste time, shoving his mouth onto your pussy and slobbering all over it, even going so far as to nibble on your cute clit.

you mewl, back flopping against the mattress as suguru ate you out like his life depended on it, and he didn’t hold back. he inserted two fingers inside of you, curling them, pulling and pushing and making a disgusting ‘squelch’ sound each time his calloused fingertips left your slightly agape pussy.

once he deemed it prepped enough, he licked a stripe from your hole to your clit to gather the slick, straightening to undo his embarrassingly tight pants.

“that’s not gonna fit.” you back up against the wall fearfully, with reason, because the monster he pulled out was terrifying. did the curse make his cock bigger or something? that’s inhumane!

“i prepped you. it will.” suguru puts his hands over your knees and spreads your legs, kissing your entrance with his tip.

“um—“ you were already losing your mind with it all, unable to form coherent sentences as you grab his shoulder. “be gentle. i swear i’m gonna tear if you don’t go slowly.”

“don’t worry. i’m not a monster.” or maybe he was, pushing into your pussy so fast you almost didn’t feel the pain. almost.

“SUGURU!” you claw at his forearms, writhing in his arms.

“i- i’m sorry—“ he curses, tongue lolling out to lick your neck apologetically. “i c-can’t… control m-myself— oh-fuck!” your dearest roommate, who you have cared for for more than 3 months, was turning out to be the most vile dick you’ve ever had in your life.

suguru trembles as he holds your waist like it was his lifeline, pushing deeper and deeper until he couldn’t anymore. not that he was small, but because he reached a point in your cunt where he could not go deeper.

he growls to himself, thrusting in and making you yelp in pain.

“suguru, be careful, it’s sensitive.” you warn with your fingers in his hair.

“i need to go deeper if i wanna breed you correctly.” the dark haired man snaps, his thumb spreading your folds that were already bulging around his thick length.

“what? oh, no, no, no—you are not breeding me. what am i? breeding stock? don’t fucking—“ suguru cuts you off with a kiss, rubbing your clit as he pulls out achingly slowly. you were already so close to cumming even after the mind blowing one he had just given you, legs twitching around his waist.

he tuts, hands under your knees to push them against your chest and presenting your cunt to him. “much better. maybe i’ll even go deeper.” you try to protest but he’s right, you realize that because when he sinks inside of your dewy pussy, you can feel all of him. and it’s evident that he feels all of you, too, letting out the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard, right in your ear. you might’ve gotten just a bit wetter at that sound.

“o-oh my—“ suguru gasps, finally thrusting the last inch into your warmness.

you’re struggling to breathe yourself, nails dragging his skin red for the nth time. at this point, people would ask him if he had a cat instead of you.

“thank you—thankyouthankyouthankyou—“ he babbles, roughly licking your jaw and chin as an attempt to kiss you. “you feel so good— i don’t know how i’ll live without you, please-“ you don’t know what he’s pleading for, but his tone had you in a chokehold and you’d do anything for him right now.

“please let me knock you up, please— i need it, i’ll die, i swear i’ll be good for you.” oh, it’s so dangerous. his whines combined with his strokes made your brain mushy and your thought incoherent. you would give in sooner than you thought you would.

“f-fuck, cum inside—“ you moan, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. and suguru is gone. he’s gone and a mindless, pussy drunk version of him has replaced him.

he plants his hands on the mattress and smacks his hips into you, balls slapping your asscheeks in a resounding plap!

he can’t control his eyes, rolling to the back of his skull as he bites his lip to keep his whimpers in check. but it was so hard, the way your walls clung to his cock, the wetness, the way—

“fuck!” suguru bites your shoulder, breaking skin as he paints your cunt white from the inside out. you wince at the bite, gritting your teeth.

your roommate comes back to his senses after a minute, panicking for all the wrong reasons.

“wha-what’s wrong?” you ask, trying to gain his frantic attention.

“it’s leaking.” he brings his fingers to your pussy and pulls out, scooping up the cum that was expelled by your walls spasming and stuffing it back in.

“are you serious? get off me.” you don’t know why you’re irritated, but you’re all wet, sweaty, and you smell like sex. unless he wants a second round, you don’t want to stay dirty like this.

suguru’s ears flop, he looks so pathetic, you don’t know what to do.

“what’s wrong with you?” you finally ask. why is he acting so needy?

“i don’t know.” he grumbles, cuddling up to your chest.

“agh, don’t hug me, i’m dirty!” you try to gently push him away but he’s stronger than you, caging you in his arms.

“i don’t care. let’s make more babies. we need to be sure—“

“we are not making children. i don’t know why you suddenly want to fuck so bad, but keep it down. i need to shower.” you order firmly, after all, an owner needs to be nice but not lenient… right?

“babies.” suguru pins you down on the bed, spreading your legs like he owned your body.

“suguru.” you shut your thighs. “no round two. i’m sore.”

“but… we need to make sure it takes. plus, you didn’t cum.” he makes a point. but that doesn’t mean you want to have children. even if you have a not so obvious crush on him.

“you made me cum once already.” you remind him, patting his head and rubbing his ears the way he adores. the man just purrs and leans into your touch just like he did before he turned back human.

“but—“

“but no. get off me. i’m serious.” he pouts uncharacteristically and rolls off of you to sulk.

smiling, you kiss his shoulder and saunter to the shower, pleasurably sore in all the right places. it’s been a while since you’ve been fucked well.

after showering (and cleaning out your pussy, unfortunately you would have to take a plan b since your roommate/situationship/whatever the hell you were didn’t use a condom), you cover up with a fluffy towel and see suguru on his bed, jerking off.

…jerking off?!

“oh—! i’m so sorry!” you jump back and hide your gaze. you would forever have the image of his pink veiny cock in his hand, but for his dignity you didn’t watch.

“what’s the- the matter? i told you… i needed a round two. i’m not satisfied.” his tail quivers underneath him.

“are you in heat, you dog?” you lightheartedly joke, mouth already watering at the sight. but you can’t give in yet.

“yeah. mating season. aren’t you supposed to help me, master?” suguru breathes as his hand blurs from how fast he jerked himself off, the precum beading at the tip along with your shared juices being used as a lube.

this is going to be a long night.

[astheforcewillsit]

While I do agree to a point that some of what he does is indeed mental illness or a result of it, a lot of it also is very much a prejudice mindset specifically against Zeb. He "dehumanizes" Zeb in his actions, if not in his words. He fails to even call Zeb by his name, despite knowing it. He calls Ezra "Bridger" or Jedi, but always calls Zeb "Lasat". Kallus is very mentally ill, but he is also racist by Star Wars standards until he's asked to challenge his beliefs. I think those two can co-exist still.

Furthermore, the destruction of Lasan despite his own fears included children and families. He dehumanized them in order to participate in killing them. It is very much the same mindset that a lot of racist people use to go after certain groups because they have trauma with a few members of that group.

Like, he has PTSD. But it's also very racially motivated. I

To double down on that point, Kallus never actually says anything xenophobic about Zeb or the Lasat as a whole. (At least not that I can remember). He says “Lasat– never know when to give up,” but that’s not like… a crazy thing to say– in fact, in a fucked up sorta way, it almost sounds like a compliment???? Like, Kallus completely sees Zeb (and the Lasat in general) as equals, he’s not operating under the usual xenophobic imperial mindset that other species are lesser than. This weird obsession that he has in seasons 1 and 2 is just there because he wants to outwit and outfight Zeb (and the rest of the Ghost crew… but especially Zeb)

He doesn't have to do any of the above to prove he's xenophobic. His own trauma resulted in him wiping out their entire race based on his experience with one and gleefully taking credit. His actions speak louder than his words. He participated in an ethnic cleansing. He is very much both mentally ill and xenophobic.

And that's not a compliment, it's more of an insult.

There are taunts like that which people throw at people of color for "always trying to get our rights" are never knowing when to stop. It's insulting coming from Kallus.

Kallus' motivations are so interesting

I just need to get these thoughts out so I’m throwing this ramble here:

Now, this may totally just be me thinking too much (fork found in kitchen) but I feel like when it comes to how we tend to think about Kallus’ characterization, the implications of Kallus’ experience on Onderon are very overlooked. 

So he goes to Onderon with “the boys”-- which, the term “the boys” has its own set of implications about how Kallus must have really cared for those troopers under his command but I digress– and on a patrol they’re attacked, yada yada, we all know the story. 

But Kallus becomes fully paralyzed. He doesn’t describe the extent of his paralyzation but given that he had to watch as his squad was “finished off one by one” it’s pretty fair to assume that he could not move whatsoever. The fear that any person would experience in that situation is completely indescribable, that is genuinely some shit straight out of a night terror. 

He is– as we know– spared (albeit we don’t get exact details (did the merc try to kill him but reinforcements arrived before he could? Did the merc think that Kallus was already dead? Secret 3rd option?)) and he makes a full physical recovery, but there is no way in hell that he is not coming out of that encounter with some crazy PTSD. 

There’s not a whole lot of info on Imperial mental health services but I don’t think it’s a longshot to assume that they are probably close to nonexistent.

So the empire now has… an ISB agent with field experience… with untreated PTSD… where said PTSDs inciting incident pertained to a Lasat… and they’re looking to make an example out of Lasan……….. Are you picking up what I'm putting down here…...?

If you aren’t; it is BY NO MEANS a wild assumption to say that the Empire– essentially– weaponized Kallus’ PTSD, given that he would be less likely to question the moral atrocities happening on Lasan since he was already biased against Lasat as a whole. 

Now, we don’t really have a solid grasp on what Kallus’ exact role in Lasan was since he’s  kiiiiinnnd of an unreliable narrator– I mean we’re given the line in Droids in Distress where he takes credit for giving orders during the siege, but Kallus routinely just runs his mf mouth whenever he’s throwing hands so it’s like…  that could either be the truth or a crazy exaggeration, we as viewers have literally no idea what’s going on there– but it goes without saying that Kallus is obviously not excused from his participation just because of (likely) untreated mental illness, but that is literally like the whole point of his character so like we all knew that

Now, after Lasan, Kallus does something really bizarre for an imperial to do; he accepts the borifle given to him through the Boosan Keerah, and even though he doesn’t know about the cultural significance of that, he still takes it upon himself to learn how to use this weapon. I think that literally any other imperial would have tossed that shit out on sight, so I think it does kind of imply that Kallus did have a good deal of respect for Lasat culture.

Now we can all recall how Kallus is so annoying and also batshit insane whenever he fights Zeb for the first season and a half of rebels, and ME THINKS that this is because he wants to prove to himself that if he were not paralyzed on Onderon, he could have saved the members of his squad. He had to sit by and watch them die, and I think that he just wants the vindication; now you may be thinking, But Emma, he beat the Lasat who gave him his borifle, why would he still be obsessing over this– say it with me now– he is mentally ill. No victory will ever be enough to prove this to himself. Point blank period. 

To double down on that point, Kallus never actually says anything xenophobic about Zeb or the Lasat as a whole. (At least not that I can remember). He says “Lasat– never know when to give up,” but that’s not like… a crazy thing to say– in fact, in a fucked up sorta way, it almost sounds like a compliment???? Like, Kallus completely sees Zeb (and the Lasat in general) as equals, he’s not operating under the usual xenophobic imperial mindset that other species are lesser than. This weird obsession that he has in seasons 1 and 2 is just there because he wants to outwit and outfight Zeb (and the rest of the Ghost crew… but especially Zeb)

And after the Honorable Ones???? It’s literally never brought up again. He chills tf out so hard after that it is high key uncanny. And like, yes duh that is because– for writing purposes– that’s the beginning of his redemption and they want viewers to root for him as fulcrum, but it also implies that after finding common ground with Zeb, and understanding where he’s coming from and who Zeb is as a person, he realizes that he’s been CRASHING TF OUT for basically no reason. 

And he is SO QUICK to switch sides?? Like, he is fulcrum at least a decent time before the beginning of season three. The whole point is that the second he asks questions and delves deeper into what the Empires motivations are he is disgusted enough that he doesn’t just drop everything and disappear, no, he became a spy for the rebels because he wants to help. I feel like that just goes to show that, at his core, Kallus is a good person. A deeply confused, and hurt, and misguided person, but a good one. 

I dunno, this is just a really long winded way of saying that Kallus is the perfect example of an imperial pawn. Like the Empire is an incredibly effecient indoctrination machine that exploits people at every turn, especially their own soldiers, and I think that Kallus’ relationship with that indoctrination along with his own motivations is just super super interesting and I think about it literally all the time

[thepunkmuppet]

approaching The Confession Scene and what the fuck. this is genuinely tragic like I’ve always seen it as a meme, a joke, an iconic moment in fandom history, whatever, I’m a tumblr user, but now that I’m actually here it’s just fucking SAD

season 15 as a whole is NOT bad. it’s really not. but there’s zero destiel. they rarely speak at all unless it’s plot-related, one (1) episode pairs them together, frankly season seven was ten times more focused on their friendship and that’s INSANE because cas is only in like five fucking episodes of that one. they have a mini arc midway through the season which is very gorgeous and well-done, but it then goes absolutely nowhere and nothing at all is done to make it textually romantic.

by which I mean: no episodes have dean or cas reacting personally to sam and eileen’s relationship, or any other romantic relationship they come across. we’re never shown anything even remotely romantic even in an unrequited sense (no post-realisation awkwardness, no lingering shots of cas pining from afar, etc etc). it reads like a normal season of the show, which, yeah, I think those two are pretty fucking gay regardless, but they’re always textually written as a friendship, with no explicit cues to clue the audience in that there are canon romantic feelings. and that doesn’t change here, at all.

so I guess what I’m saying is the confession scene is purely just a moment of fan service. as stunning as the speech itself is, and as well as it fits cas’s character, the writers throughout the season didn’t actually give a fuck to make destiel ROMANTIC even in a one-sided way. film is a language and as much as misha does in his acting, even from castiel’s perspective they’re still framed as a friendship within the show itself RIGHT up until he says the words I love you. they weren’t interested in actually depicting a (even one-sided) queer love story, just wanted to give fans their “okay here it is we did it guys!” moment at the end, so that way they didn’t have to actually show an explicitly romantic gay love story, they could just say some words, kill cas off and boom it’s canon! here you go people we’ve been leading on, mocking and low-key gaslighting for eleven years!

idk man it’s just so disappointing. I knew it was and I know everyone has been talking about it for years now but my GOD it’s so bad 😭 I can’t even tell you how bizzare it is to have seen destiel confession meme on here and in various fandom video essays EVERY DAY FOR FOUR PLUS YEARS and now here I am, watching it go down in real time with full context, having watched over 300 episodes of this show, invested, obsessed, and REALLY FUCKING UPSET AAAAHHH

EDIT: forgot to mention this originally. the actual concept of cas’s moment of perfect happiness killing him, while kind of stolen from buffy, is AMAZING. and the literal perfect opportunity to have a building textual confirmation of his feelings throughout the season, where he realises what that moment will be, and it ends in the tragic confession of his love. like that’s insane that’s perfect. but no it just comes out of nowhere so oh fucking well whatever I guess! they’re canon so we should all be happy! I hate this stupid bumhole show AUGH no one talk to me ever :(

[thewistlingbadger]

idk if this is a 'hot take' but i see way too much of people lusting after Sevika only after erasing her less palatable elements. in headcanons she's admittedly tough and violent but wouldn't hurt anyone unless she had to (i've even seen one where she "only raises her hands in self-defence"). bitch one of the first things we see her do is attempt to square up to a bunch of teenagers for the crime of trying to free their dad! she's willing to kill children with her bare hands. she personally enacts the edicts of a drug kingpin. she taunts vi and jinx during their altercations with the most provocative, soul-destroying shit she can think of. she's the type of fighter who grins manically as she scalds her opponent's cheek. she is not simply someone who nobly sacrifices her own moral purity for 'the greater good' but is otherwise a soft loving Mama Bear™, she gets *nasty* with it! and don't get me wrong, i give enormous moral lenience to most Zaunite characters because the violence of the oppressed is by definition incomparable to the violence of their oppressors. there are myriad explanations and justifications for every single thing they've done. but beyond that, i NEED it to be ok to say that she's a fucking dick sometimes - both interpersonalliy, and on a greater ideological scale - because regardless of how justifiable we find her actions, we should collectively be in a place where we can thirst for Sevika without defanging her as a character. she's compelling and fascinating and attractive BECAUSE she's imbued with agency, which necessitates the capacity for genuinely immoral actions and unlikable behavior! i mean come on! if the white twitter lesbians can so eagerly embrace the moral greyness of their rich fascha femme, we can do it for our butch freedom fighter!! i believe in us!!!

anyway tldr i love Sevika warts and all and everyone do your thing but if you don't love her warts i think you're missing out

Valid valid and valid. Not a single thing you said was incorrect. Sevika is DEVIOUS point blank period. In season 1 she is a minor character so I can understand why she's overlooked a lot but when you actually do look at her she can be VILLAINOUS at times. "It's just a matter of time before you implode and Silco finally gets the hint that you're just about as good for our cause as you were for your family. Jinx." Like DAMN Sevika!! Okay it's like that!! This rudeness that she showed Jinx is a bit fascinating to me because the only other character in this show that is just about as rude as Sevika is in this scene is Mylo. I made a post talking about how she has some similarities to Mylo and someone responded to that by also highlighting that at least Mylo was a teenager beefing with a child, meanwhile Sevika is a whole ass adult beefing with Jinx. I just think that's interesting and funny.

You brought up something that truly is just a plague to all fandoms. Whenever someone says they like a character that has a negative reputation in the source material, everyone starts coming out the woodwork to say it's bad to like that character. People don't seem to understand that just because you like a villain and find their character to be enjoyable doesn't mean you actually condone their actions and would be ok with someone acting like them irl. There are many reasons to like a villainous character and sometimes one of those reasons is BECAUSE they're a villain. Sometimes you like that a character does bad things because it's interesting and entertaining, and liking that doesn't make you a bad person. You should be able to like antagonistic characters for their villainy. Do I understand what they did was bad? Yes. Do I still like them? Yes, and not in spite of it but BECAUSE of it. And you don't have to erase those parts of a character just go openly admit that. You should be able to openly like a character in their full extent. You shouldn't have to ignore certain aspects just for your adoration of a character to be accepted.

Sevika really always has been That Bitch she has no problem telling people how it is directly to their faces. She calls Vander weak in front of everyone. She tells Vi Vander "had his chance" knowing damn well what Vander meant to her. She calls Silco out on his bullshit SEVERAL TIMES in front of him. Sevika isn't restrained as a character at all she's always being her full self. I feel that season two has made Sevika more popular and because her screentime was limited and the writing was different in season two people have allowed her character to become warped. I definitely think that if someone is ok with justifying and excusing the actions of Caitlyn and/or Vi then they should keep that same energy when it comes to Sevika. Sevika is a tough, loyal lady that has a very fun personality and she's also a criminal who has done terrible things for the sake of the cause and most times? Most times she enjoyed doing those things. Most times she went out of her way to revel in instigating. Silco didn't even know Vi was back yet and did that stop Sevika from almost killing Vi? Did that stop her from whispering "who Jinx? She's like his daughter" and looking dead in Vi's eyes just to see her reaction? No. Sevika is a bit messy like that she likes to play with her food lol and honestly I don't blame her lol

[thecaptainsdeck]

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Admin: Thanks for upgrading your subscription to Tier III! The Captain will want to thank you personally ~ drop your next available hour slot and we’ll set it up. You: 10 PM Admin: Talk to you soon ~

10:00 PM

Captain: Hey doll. I’ve seen your likes and comments around here for a while and I’m chuffed that you finally upgraded. What changed?

You: Truthfully, I challenged myself to save up so I can really treat myself when I felt I needed it. Especially after the last year and four months at work.

Captain:…

Captain: You waited ONE YEAR and FOUR MONTHS before you felt like you needed a break?

Captain: I’m flattered you’ve chosen me as your reward but gat damn girl. You need to treat yourself more often.

Captain: What the hell do you do for a job??

You: I’m an accountant at a small but valued firm, so we’re kind of just always busy! Especially at tax time which is ALMOST over. So I spoiled myself a few days early.

Captain: Congratulations ~ Do you work in a stuffy office with a buncha dorks?

You: Well I wouldn’t say dorks and it’s not a closet! I work in an office building with maybe less than 50 other people. I have a corner office so yay for small wins!

Captain: Aye that’s the least they can do fer’ya!

Captain: Do they make you dress business professional like you’re gonna meet the president every day or is it a normal place that lets you dress like a human being?

You: Haha, nothing so refined. Business casual for the most part, Fridays we can wear jeans, and sometimes during the seasons they’ll do a morale boosting themed clothes week thing.

Captain: 🤔

Captain: Does anyone enjoy that?

You: Some do, some don’t. The bosses buy a big lunch spread though so it’s not all bad.

Captain: Tell me, are the morale boosting bits mandatory?

You: You’re not required to dress up. They don’t technically say you have to be at the luncheon but they do have someone sweep the desks to make sure no one is still working. I think they legitimately think they’re providing a “break” for us but like, a paid lunch hour would be a thousand times better.

Captain: Bet.

Captain: You ever skipped it all together? Just said fuck it and hid on the roof to scroll on your phone and eat lunch?

You: Sometimes my car! We have a secure parking garage and its air conditioned so it’s quiet and not boiling hot.

Captain: Hooray for small victories.

Captain: Have you ever gotten uncomfortably turned on enough that you’ve escaped to your car to get relief?

You: 😳

You: Maybe once or twice. I’m always afraid of getting caught.

Captain: I’d make sure we wouldn’t.

Captain: See I personally fucking hate it when instead of just paying people more, employers make their people do a whole dog and pony show. Leave people alone!

Captain: This is literally a crime.

Captain: If you’d let me, I’d come and save you from those stupid lunches.

You: 🤔

You: I wouldn’t hate that!

You: Not sure you could pull it off though, you would garner a lot of attention just from standing, you’re just that attractive 👉👈🥺

Captain: Relax, I’m nothing if not professional. Want to hear my grand scheme that I cooked up, just now?

You: Oh go right ahead!

Captain: I’d start by doing research into your company and get the lunch reservation details of these luncheons. I would then pose as an employee dropping off the food order/doing set up and while everyone is gathering, I would linger a little, totally incognito, and slip out to find your office if you haven’t already entered the room.

Captain: Should I continue? I’m really proud of this scheme actually.                           

You: Please, I wonder how you plan to get away scot-free and not get me fired!

Captain: You’d not only get fired – you’d get off, repeatedly and it would be a seasonal thing cause I’d never get caught. I think it would be a professional bonus because then you’ll be so satisfied at work, you might even get a promotion or pay raise or some shit😏

You: This I gotta hear

Captain: Where was I?

Captain: Just kidding

Captain: I would then smuggle you to the parking garage under the guise that you’re my ‘job equipment’ or whatever, and then, I’d take you to your car. Ideally, I can convince you to get in the van I rented as part of my infiltration disguise so I can actually sit and stand without breaking my neck. The windows are blacked out, I keep anchors and blocks on the wheels to keep it stable, and then I rock your fucking world.

Captain: Still with me?

You: I am

Captain: You’re probably thinking, ‘but if you’re as beastly as I think you are, won’t I be screaming my brains out?’

You: I was!

Captain: As a professional content creator – amongst other trades – I know a thing or two about sound proofing. There’s always a gag if you’re into that.

You: I could be persuaded…

Captain: I have a lot of things I’d like to persuade you to do in there.

Captain: Do you normally participate in the themed clothes or do you keep it professional?

You: I don’t usually, not really my thing.

Captain: I see.

Captain: Back to my scheme ~

Captain: After I’ve successfully fooled everyone and have you in my clutches, I’d take you to my van where you can have a lunch break actually worth attending.

Captain: I would first take off my disguise and reveal that it was me all along! After you get over your initial surprise, I’d ask you what you’re hungry for.

You: Oh I get options?

Captain: Hell yeah doll. Your choices can range anywhere from a quick snack to a mega meal.

You: Do the options change too?

Captain: I don’t believe in constraints. Unless they’re kink-related.

Captain: I think since you’re the kind of doll that doesn’t splurge too much on ‘erself, I’d start you off with a ‘left no crumbs.’

Captain: What that entails is me, sitting you all pretty like on a seat cushion, starting ngwith something soft and sweet. Kisses up the arm, on the neck, slow, building up anticipation. I’d tease you over your clothes, petting your kitten until I feel your wetness through the fabric.

Captain: Pepper your body with kisses and bites to keep you on edge. When I have you down to just your undergarments, I’d sit you in my lap. Spread your thighs open. Start rubbing your pussy until you’re leaking all over my hand. I’ll let you have a quick orgasm, a small and sweet one. But don’t think we’re done.

Captain: I might take my pants off to feel you a bit better. Push you down on my hard-on as I wrap an arm around your waist to keep you still. I’ll use my free hand to play with your pussy again. Rubbing you, flicking you, lightly smacking you, rubbing your clit, finger fucking you. Rub my big dick against your trembling body to make you even more sensitive.

Captain: Since you only have an hour, I’ll make sure you look presentable before you go back to the office. Where you can spend the rest of the day sitting in the mess I’m going to leave. How does that make you feel?

You: I’m…speechless, in a good way…Shit that’s really hot. It makes me feel devious, a bit dirty, like I really want to do it.

Captain: Damn and I haven’t even finished telling you what’s included in your lunch?

You: 🤐

You: Please forgive me

Captain: I could never stay mad at you doll.

Captain: As I was saying ~

Captain: I can’t let you leave your break without feeling fully satisfied.

Captain: Before you go, I’d spend some time with you against the van wall. If you’re into it, I can use rope to help keep you standing. I encourage it, you’re gonna need it.

You: I’m into it, I’m into it 🤤

Captain: Heh. Freak.

Captain: I’d keep you still and propped up, putting your blouse on, keeping my lipstick stains and bites hidden underneath. I’d pull your panties and bottoms over your ankles, slide your soaked underwear up your thighs…

Captain: And give you dessert.

You: What am I having??!

Captain: Me.

Captain: I’d pull your panties up your thighs but not put them on entirely. Leaving them maybe a few inches from your twitching pussy. Then I’d finally let you see my cock.

Captain: Do you want to touch it?

You: Yesss🥺please let me touch.

Captain: Don’t worry you’ll be feeling it.

Captain: I’ll prod my cock against your clit, slide it up and down your puffy lips, maybe push in a little bit.

Captain: After I get it nice and wet with you, I’d stand in front of you and fuck your body. I won’t go in in, I’ll slide in between your desperate lips, make you clench over my cock with your needy pussy, I’ll hit your delicious ass cheeks, pull back out and rub against your clit until you’re crying.

You: Oh my fucking god.

Captain: I’m not done.

Captain: While I do this, I’ll rub my thumb down on your clit, and I won’t stop until you’ve cum over my cock, frustrated yet relieved.

Captain: But don’t be disappointed just yet because the next part is my favorite part.

Captain: As you’re coming down from your orgasm, I’ll finish myself off. Jerking myself in front of you and finishing right on your cunt.

You: 🥵

Captain: Yeah.

Captain: I’d milk my length to cover you, watching it drip from your vulva and trembling lips down to your underwear and thighs. Whatever falls further down I’d wipe with my thumb and make you lick it off.

Captain: Then I’ll pull your panties up nice and high, make sure they sit on your hips just right, don’t want any of me to spill out. For good measure, I might even rub your underwear against you some just to smear it in you some more.

Captain: I love cum play.

Captain: I’ll pull up your bottoms, wipe your tears, and send you away with a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass.

Captain: How does that sound doll?

You: I would fucking die!!! I want this so bad fuck why would you DO THAT TO ME?!?🥵🤤 FUCK! You’re so hot, all I want is to touch you and be touched by you😩

Captain: Are you touching yourself?

You: If I said yes?🥺

Captain: I’d say me too. Check out the photo gallery later, you’ll see the load I blew for ya😘

Captain: Glad to add you to my harem of Cabin Hoes. I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I think I’m gonna grow fond of you.

Captain: G’night doll. Thanks for subscribing😘

<end chat>

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Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3 Originally posted

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 6: Parallels with Rovickie

Other than the obvious one--being that Vickie has a boyfriend and Robin is jealous/ put between them--there are actually way more parallels to Rockie than I originally thought, which is why I decided to make a whole post about them!

Again, I'm gonna be stating how intentional I think each parallel is. Even if it's not intentional, it's still a proof because it's the fact they are using the same tropes for two pairings shows that they are both supposed to be seen as romantic.

1. Being Between Them

Very very intentional. The framing is the exact same except Robin is not blurred while Will is blurred. AND the fact that it's a queer character between a straight relationship as well what the actuallllll freak. The difference is the fact that Wills blurred but Robin isn't. Robin is shown to be miserable in this scene, while Will is actually happy in this scene because he is seeing El again.

2. Basically the same conversation

I also think this is kind of intentional, it's tooooo similar not to kind of be inspired by Mike's speech. Obviously, Mike is more of a main character than Vickie so I think that they decided to make her do the same thing as him because the writers see this situation as similar. It's also interesting that she, in this conversation, is talking about how much she should have broken up with her boyfriend earlier. Maybe that gives us a little insight into what Mike is feeling too :)))

ALSO ALSO the bit at the end where Vickie goes "sorry I am rambling while there are people suffering" is literally THE SAME as what Mike says when he goes "it's so stupid given everything that's going on", basically showing they both don't view their relationships as important.

3. The Gay Food Jokes

The 'try before you deny' joke is already kindofsus, but it can easily be argued against as just a little throw away line that is just meant to be a lil bit of banter. Then you see the way that Vickie says "I've made a peanut butter on peanut butter monstrosity" while both queer women are talking to each other. You see the way this kind of sounds similar to Mike going "That's blasphemous, putting fruit on pizza" before the people around him go "Try before you deny" like HAJHDGAJHSGD..... So they have the potential to make queer jokes do they??? Ones that are kind of subtle enough that only queer people pick up on them?? Yessir

4. The Same Look

I don't know if this is totally intentional but it's so perfect <3 Just two gays giving a little smile before looking away quickly teehee giggling kicking my feet.

(im not even adding analysis at this point lmao)

5. 'Cool'.

(also couldnt get a caption for this one but u know what they're saying)

Oh my god I literally yelled when I came across this while watching the scene, not expecting anything else to come up ADGAHJSDG

This is intentional to me. I think the way that the camera is right on Robin's face, the way she says the words, she just seems so IN LOVE and you can definitely see the same (if not more) in love look on Byler's faces when they say the same words. If you can see Robin saying this to Vickie as romantic and as evidence for reciprocated love, then you should definitely see the same for when Mike and Will both say it to each other.

Now that we have gotten confirmation that Robin, Vickie, Will and Mike will all be in the same scenes during season 5, I am even more excited for more parallels between two different flavours of queer couple living their best lives <3 thankyew

GUYS IVE DONE SO MUCH BYLER ANALYSIS TODAY HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY BRAIN IS FULLLL EVERYONE CLAP ME ON THE BACK AHDGAHSJGDHA

[chaosinstigator]

Daniel had a special helmet planned for Austin he’ll never get to use… Esteban had a special helmet for Abu Dhabi he’ll never get to use… from the bottom of my heart;

FUCK THIS SPORT

[oshaskell]

it's so SO fucked up that the buddie thesis of the show has been there since s02 e08 with Thomas telling Buck "you don't find it, son, you make it", and ever since then Buck has found person after person and has kept reaching and reaching for one of them to love him, not understanding why he can't make it work, while at the same time building a home, a haven, with Eddie. he's been making it this WHOLE TIME and 6 seasons later, he STILL thinks he doesn't have it

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

This is how you do it if you wanna do it, you take the BEST, change it up and OWN it, don't emulate shit, don't copy the miss, just the hits, and then ELEVATE 'EM. Otherwise, you're just a bad copycat who does not even own her own style and those are the STYLIST'S job and RESPONSIBILITY precisely. To see that vision and make it happen, that is exactly what they are actually getting paid to do. If they fail at it and it becomes more about whether or not the look worked or about what can be salvaged out of it, like maybe accessories or hair or make up, and not about being even more iconic and event-appropriate (timing matters) than the muse that inspired that outfit herself, then THE STYLIST simply failed to do their job. Period.

Danielle Goldberg is fully inconsistent and never puts her client's broader fashion perception at the top of her list of priorities. She dresses her clients to cause a commotion or to fly under the radar but never to be unequivocally and consistently praised across the board, without compromising versatility, of course, because we are talking about fashion. Her colleagues try to do that with their clients though, because they know it's not about their careers but their clients'. Law is the best example, that is why Zendaya doing with Cher (AND FUCKING NAILING IT) what Ayo tried to do with Julia, is in the pics I chose to illustrate this.

That is HER decision —Danielle's, on how to handle HER OWN career and she has been consistent with that career approach for years, she doesn't care, because her clients are the ones who take the heat, not her directly. That is why her ideal client is the new kid on the block, young Hollywood rising stars with 0 fashion expertise prior to working with her, no seasoned star would ever go for Danielle Goldberg and when her clients reach that status, they outgrow her AND LEAVE HER. THANK DOG.

CAN'T FUCKING WAIT!

I spend a day away and come back to an absolute gag! Zendaya and Law have done it once again!

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.

It’s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but it’s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.

Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after he’s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. He’s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ‘hurry up’ and ‘get him his stuff’, and sure he’s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if he’s alright. Steve clearly wasn’t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didn’t? Nor his “friends”?

They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and it’s a casual interaction. He’s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices he’s dropped the price significantly for Steve when it’s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesn’t. They both just laugh and part ways.

The next run in is tina’s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They don’t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after he’d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he won’t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.

Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he won’t make eye contact with Eddie, and he’s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesn’t let him, though, since he’s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steve’s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so he’s definitely not. They’re not really friends, but Eddie’s not an asshole.

— “Did you drive?” Eddie asks

“Yeah”

“Well, you’re drunk, Steve. You can’t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. I’ll take you home.”

Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. “Yeah, yeah, alright! Don’t thank me yet, Steve’o. This is not for you, see, I’m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, let’s go hot stuff.” —

Eddie takes Steve home. They don’t talk much. By the time they reach Steve’s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he didn’t really plan this far, so he’s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says it’s ‘relationship troubles’, and he’s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but he’s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ‘yeah, for sure. It’s no problem.’ And Steve goes home.

After that, it’s a little different. Steve, doesn’t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school he’s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesn’t approach Eddie when there’s too many people around, though. As much as he’s grown, Steve Harrington still carry’s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesn’t bother Eddie too much. It’s not like they are really friends, they’re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddie’s ‘not so bad’. So that’s a win.

Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steve’s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each other’s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And it’s fun, so they do it again. Still they’re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.

He doesn’t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him it’s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. It’s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesn’t approach him to ask questions, because they don’t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesn’t see Steve again after that for quite some time.

Then it’s summer, Eddie isn’t graduating again, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and there’s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldn’t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasn’t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like he’d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so it’s been a minute since Eddie’s seen him. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. He’s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea he’d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesn’t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because they’re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. That’s all. He doesn’t go back, and he doesn’t really plan to. Steve’s nice, and he knows Eddie’s around if he needs to buy from him again, and that’s really as far as their relationship goes. That’s all it ever was. It’s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought he’d say it, but Harrington wasn’t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.

Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And it’s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddie’s ever seen it. And he wasn’t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddie’s help.

What the fuck?

[saragrosie]

As promised, incredibly stupid s4-5 drawings